#opposite: dj thompson

[chronicxwanderlust]

“Is there, like, a specific wine you’d maybe recommend for an awkward family dinner?”

Judging by the look the liquor store cashier fixed Sawyer with, she was not the first to have asked. It offered some relief, at least. “Vodka.”

“Right, yup. Thought so.” Her head nodded, not needing directions towards the appropriate aisle. She didn’t think there’d be enough alcohol in the world to get her through tonight, the first time the entire family had been together in...God knows how long. Sawyer loved her family, she did--had missed them more than she thinks they realize, which she knows she’s partly to blame for, but there’s no denying that in recent years, there’d been some tension amongst them that didn’t exactly make this a happy family reunion.

What kind of vodka went best with that? Her head lifted from surveying her options to ask, only to find that she wasn’t alone in the aisle. The sudden presence startled her, but not as much as the realization of just who it was standing there in front of her. 

“...DJ?”

@sinsoakedsaints

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites - pt 2

do i have another fic I should be updating? yes

am i?

no.

i like having gifs of poe to stare at dreamily while i mentally scream over my writer's block.

warnings: none, feels, mentions of anxiety, comfort

xox enjoy

@brighterthanlonelywords part 2 as promised!!!!!!

read part one

--------- Episode 2 - Baby steps -----------

You steadfastly ignored him for the next week. Your bruises healed with bacta and time, but the residual terror still had its claws fully seated in your mind. Thompson's glare flashed every time you closed your eyes. The raw, unadulterated hatred still shook you. Never had you seen somebody so cruel.

"Knock knock."

You froze at the familiar voice, back turned to the door. Your seat was big enough, could you pretend like it was empty and hide under the desk? If you sat still long enough, he'd go away. Maybe-

In your pondering of an escape plan, Poe had already rounded the desk and stuck his beaming face into your line of sight.

"Hiya, cutie. Changed the hair again, I see." Your hair was tied up with ribbons, colored orange and black.

"Nice colors," he winked. You flushed.

"They're for BB," you lied through gritted teeth. Poe, unaware or uncaring of your closed-off attitude, collapsed into a chair opposite you and grinned.

"Been a while, I was wondering if you'd forgotten me." He was fiddling with the galactic model on your desk, spinning the Inner and Outer Rim like a DJ disc.

You didn't answer, picking at your skin. He paused, scooting closer. His gaze was soft, imploring.

"You okay?" Poe's voice was soft, intimate. It had been a week since the Thing. Thompson had been decommissioned and General Organa had done her best to soothe the concerns of you and your fellow squadmates.

But still, the fear remained.

You nodded mutely, knowing you couldn't speak the lie. Poe, smarter than he looked, called bullshit and sighed.

"I know I'm not your favorite," he said, "but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. Just a little bit." He held his hand up for emphasis, fingers almost touching.

A faint glimmer of a smile, and then it was gone. You still stared at the floor, willing yourself not to cry. Realizing you needed space, he touched his forehead to yours and left, closing the door gently behind him.

A still warm cup of caf had been left on your desk, with a little BB unit sketched on the side.

Sorry for the trouble. I'd like to see that smile again.

P

You dropped your head on your desk and cried.

It went like that for the next few weeks. You would hide away in your office and Poe would silently walk in, leaving coffee and a note. Sometimes he'd linger, poking around your belongings and tossing out a relayed hello from Beebs.

You never looked at him.

Until a Tuesday in the middle of the blandest week to date. A few officers stormed in, making you spill your coffee, and tossed a very burnt looking pilot into your office.

"Engine fire,"

"Messin' around,"

"Fistfight,"

they all said over each other. Still pissed about your precious caf, you waved them off and toweled your desk down.

"This better be good, because that was my last cup of caf."

"If it's the caf I brought you, does it cancel out?"

Your head snapped up to meet Poe's sheepish grin. He was smoking slightly, the very ends of his hair crisped to charcoal. Ashen grease coated every inch of him, and you frowned to think of the stain he was leaving on your chair.

"What the hell?"

Poe, to his credit, told the story neatly and without embellishment. He'd been fooling around in his X-wing and shot a rogue blast into another pilot's droid pit. A grease fire followed, and here he was. You shrunk into yourself. There was no getting out of this.

"I'll need a full damage report within the hour, and your flight status will be reconsidered for ineligibility. Please-"

"Don't."

You stopped, stuttering like a broken speeder. This wasn't- shit, no, you needed to stick to the script and don't look at him- your eyes met his. Poe was looking at you desperately, eyes shining.

"Please don't ignore me," he pleaded. "I didn't mean to get you hurt and I just wanted-"

"Poe," you stammered, looking at him with raging tears. "I need...I need you to go away. For a wh-while. Please."

He looked like a kicked puppy. "I'm-"

"Please."

Your cheeks were streaking, the mascara you'd carefully applied with the hope of no tears today was pitifully washed away. Just like yesterday, when he'd faked an argument with Rose to end up in a disciplinary meeting with you.

Or last week, when he tried to tell Organa that you needed to interview him for a recon debrief.

Or every single other time he'd tried to apologize and you'd shut him down.

It hurt you, too. You missed him, and you wanted to accept his apology and hug him and wipe the mopey look off his face. But it made your heart quake and your breaths come short.

It was scary. You could be cold, you could shut down, that was familiar. But the new thing with friends and a fuzzy feeling inside made you cower with fear. You didn't know what to do with that. Where did it go from there?

You curled up in your bunk, shuddering in the darkness. It didn't feel comforting anymore - it felt like you were a little kid hiding from the monster under your bed.

Driving a stake through your heart, you wrapped a comforter around your shoulders and padded down the hall.

Your voice was soft when his door shhfffed open.

"Can I have the R2-D2 light this time?"

Your legs swung off the edge of his bunk. Poe sat gingerly across from you, cradling his night-light so that both of your faces were lit. As promised, R2-D2 sat comfortingly on the bedside table.

"Why are you scared of the dark?" You asked suddenly.

He perked up at your voice and smiled. "Dunno. Just never got over the idea of something hiding in the shadows."

You nodded, burrowing into your blanket. Poe was anticipating your next question, rocking slowly on his heels.

"Why'd you change your hair?" He asked, timidly. Not sure if you'd bite or run away.

You poked your nose out of the blanket burrito.

"I missed you," you blurted, tears welling again. Containing his monumental relief, Poe settled a hand on where he thought your arm was under the duvet. Me too, his gentle caress said. More than you think.

"I-I'm sorry, Poe, I didn't m-mean to..." you trailed off into tears as he soothed you, wiping the tears from your face. The warm glow from his nightlight was dimmed by you being pulled into his lap. He leaned against the headboard, your head under his chin.

The hug was messy and uncoordinated; what with you being wrapped in a comforter and his hands being entangled in your hair. Your heart had broken into shards, and it wouldn't be easy picking it back up. Poe knew. He knew enough to stay quiet, letting you wring yourself dry in the safe circle of his arms and the halo of R2D2's glowing form.

Poe was in agony. He knew this would take time. A single night of closeness wouldn't shatter the sky-high walls you'd built around yourself. But he was losing his mind with the urge to pound them down with his fists and skip to the i love you please love me back and fly into the sunset.

But he could wait. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets to prevent from touching you, almost tearing his flightsuit with the strength of his grip. You sat stiffly next to him, so distant he wanted to cry.

He wanted you to look at him. To say something, even if it was a tease or a scathing remark for his tardiness. He'd purposefully strode into the meeting late to attract any kind of attention from you, but your eyes stayed shut.

So he laid his chin on his hands and tried to pay attention. He was never good at these kinds of events. Too much talking, too many pictures and pages of information. He needed time to read and think and doodle and do something other than just sit there.

Poe knew his fidgeting was distracting, so he tried to keep it to a minimum. You weren't acknowledging him directly, but he could feel your mild irritation every few minutes.

General Ackbar was still talking, but the buttons on his suit were so tempting to snap and his hands were bored-

A sharp jab in his ribs made him yelp. Whipping around, he was prepared to cuss out-

oh.

Your hand was outstretched, hiding under the table. A small silver ring was in your palm, attached to a thin chain. He took it slowly, gauging your face. You stayed turned towards Ackbar, but inclined your chin subtly and returned to writing notes.

His heart trilled at the small gift, turning it over to inspect it. There were multiple bands, and they spun together nicely. Poe fiddled with it, grateful for the distraction. A gentle whirring sound made him grin. It was a neat little toy. The rest of the meeting fell on his deaf ears, totally enraptured with the ring.

As soon as the debrief was adjourned, you sped off before he could return it.

Oh well, another excuse to see you. Not that he wanted to give it back, but he did want to see your face. Poe hung it around his neck and tucked it under his collar fondly. It clicked against his mother's ring, right over his heart.

That night, in his bunk, he sat awake. His gaze was focused on the door, awaiting a timid knock. He'd made sure both the night lights were charged and waiting.

A small ping on his tablet and he was scrambling to pull it off the charger.

Notes from today, read the message, and your familiar scrawl filled the screen. He grinned, settling down to peer through your looping handwriting. You'd drawn diagrams, which he knew you hated but helped his brain connect the dots. The sections were even color-coded.

He studied the drawings until his eyes fluttered closed, hugging the glowing remnants of you close to his chest.

One step forward.

Poe was back to his chipper self the next day, revived by your small act of kindness.

He engaged in a raucous round of sabacc with the Gold squadron, still laughing even after being thoroughly trounced.

"Good to see you again, Black Leader," Rose jibed, nudging him in the ribs. "I was afraid that last engine fire mighta smoked your brains out."

"Yeah," Gold Two chimed in, "what's up with your record, dude? Got some kind of unlucky streak?"

Poe's ears were flaming. "Uh, whaddya mean?"

Rose's eyebrows were dancing a mirthful tango. "Oh, nothing, we've just noticed your tendency for clumsiness has...increased. I mean, I knew you were a mess but damn-" she pulled up his record. "Two grease fires in a month? Sheeeesh, those HR officers must be sick of you."

Gold Two's eyes glimmered. "Unless....it's one officer in particular?"

He was certain his cheeks were blistering from the heat pulsing under his skin. "It's been a rough while, alright? Until I see you complete a barrel roll without pissing yourself, shut your mouth."

Two guffawed. 'Low blow, Dameron, low blow."

Having barely dodged that bullet, Poe laughed. "Hey, at least I'm not walking around with wet boxers."

"Boxers? Who said I was wearing any?"

Rose made a gagging noise and shoved away from the howling men. "Y'all are nasty," she said, screwing up her face, "I'm out." Another raucous round of laughter followed her out. Poe chuckled again, poking at his food, but the familiar nagging in his chest was beginning to return.

Just go say hi. Wave. Walk past her door. Maybe peek through the blinds?

He wanted to toss his food at the wall. This was so stupid. You were both adults, you could have a normal conversation without stumbling around each other like emotionally repressed apes.

Before he could lose the nerve, Poe stood up and strode out, jaw set. Gold Two looked up quizzically but made no comment. You were most likely holed up in your office, buried under paperwork and meetings and Important Things that permanently framed your face in a pout.

But he wanted to see you. And because he was also Important and desperately in love with you, his attention took priority over all else. Well, he thought it should at least.

To his shock, you were leaning back in your chair with a holovid playing quietly on your tablet. You looked up, but didn't tell him to go away. Poe hovered, waiting for a dismissal.

It didn't come.

Like trying not to spook a bluurg, he carefully seated himself next to you and slid his gaze to your screen. It was some action flick that had been released a few days ago. It looked awful, in his opinion, but your shampoo smelled nice and he liked the domesticity of watching a movie.

You had a penknife in your hand and were flipping it around. It was mesmerizing; the nimbleness of your fingers as they twirled around the glittering blade. Poe's hand went to the ring you gave him, gaze glued to your gentle expression. He wanted so badly to hug you.

"Hey," he whispered, mindful of the vid.

You swallowed and he saw your lips twitch.

"Hi."

"How's it been?" God, it felt like an awkward first date.

You looked at your hands. "Okay. Not too bad."

Poe nodded, picking up on your hesitant tone. You didn't want him here. He hung his head, biting his lip. Maybe next ti-

"How...about you?" You added softly. He looked up, surprised. Your head was tilted to him, hands stilling. A tiny sliver of hope begun to shimmer in his chest. Maybe...

"It was good," he said, "did a bunch of drills, some reports-"

"I saw," you blurted. "I...I um, I saw your scores. You did a good job."

Poe sat back, awestruck. you were talking. to him. nicely. was he dreaming?

"An honest to God compliment," he breathed. Immediately, he clapped a hand over his mouth. Fuck. It was so immediate; that comfortable banter from Before. he'd forgotten.

But you didn't hide this time. He saw it, the instinct to cower, but you fought it. "Don't get used to it," you poked drily.

A grin brighter than the Yavin suns split his face in two. You gave a tentative smile in return, subtly leaning closer to him. Your gaze returned to the movie, but Poe's stayed firmly on you.

Baby steps.

His hand twitched, inching closer until he looped his pinky with yours. His heart preened when you linked tighter, brushing your palm against his hand.

Baby steps, one at a time. You'd get there. One day.

do you guys like it??? idk how to feel oh well xox

also I will die on the hill that Poe is ADHD. 100%.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@krakenkitty

comment to join the taglist

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[carolinapanthersfrance]

#10 2020 SEASON: AUTOPSY OF A FAILURE

5-11 Record

Exit Ron Rivera. Exit Cam Newton. Luke retirement. Welcome HC Ken and GM Chris.

For the first season of Ken Niumatalolo, the Panthers showed great things but finished only with 5 wins. The owner Ben Navarro renew is confidence in Ken for next season.

The flop: Teddy Bridgewater

After only a year, the Panthers no longer want Teddy Bridgewater as starting QB. His statistics his so tiny. Change is to be expected in Charlotte. Sam Darnold is expected at Bank of America Stadium in next days. The General Manager has announced that he is actively looking for a veteran QB as well. The competition at the next summer camp must be important at QB position. Without forgetting that a QB can also arrive by the Draft. The Panthers will have the seventh pick.

The Panthers have talent

The Panthers have talent in O and D. For sur, we think to CMC but not only. The running back is one of the best players in the league at his position when is not injured. He missed 2 games this year and finished just 22 yeards below the 1000 yards rush (978 yards, 4 TD). Mike Davis is a good complement to the former Standforb RB, particularly in goal line situation. He finished with more TD than McCaffrey (301 yards, 6 TD). DJ Moore combined 1638 receiving yards and is two solid weapons for the next quarterback. The O-Line need improvement with just Mike Iupati have an average season and Tyler Moton a good season. This guy hasn't missed a game in the last three seasons and will signed a new contract for the next 4 years and $72 millions.

Shaq Thompson have a great season with 103 tackles, 7 for loss, 4.5 sacks (personnal best), 3 interceptions (personnal best) and 9 pass deflections (personnal best). This is the defense' leader of the team and one of the last survivors of the Super Bowl team.

Josh Norman is still good

Josh Norman is back in his native Carolinas and Panthers uniform. He earns the starting CB job along Donte Jackson. The Panthers needed experience on defense. Josh Norman was there to mentor the younger ones and bring some size to the opposite of Donte Jackson. But not only.

He showed that he was still a good defensive player. He broke his record for tackles in one season (76) which had stood since his rookie season in 2012. He also made 3 interceptions. With 10 interceptions for the Panthers, he passed Captain Munnerlyn (8 interceptions) and Jon Beason (9 interceptions) in franchise history. He will extend his contract to Charlotte for the next two seasons.

Build a strong and tough defense

The Offense had a lot of trouble. It's normal with a poor QB and a rebuilding phase. The first thing who want Chris Norway and Ken Niumatalolo, is the team play hard and in particular defense. Josh Norman and Shaq Thompson were two of those guys. Vontaze Burfict too.

The controversial player had a solid year, without controversy. He played hard, gave big hit, but respecting football rules. He achieve his season as Inside Linebacker with 104 tacles (6 for loss) and 2.5 sacks.

Those veterans guys like Norman, Burfict, Thompson but also Short, must take in their way young guys with good potential like Brown, Chinn, Burns, Gross-Matos...

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[livvibee]

Out of the Gutter

Pairing: Starker, minor Peter/OMC

Rating: Explicit (E)

Notes: Uhhh I apologize in advance for this one y’all. 😂

Length: 5.5k~

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Extreme Dubcon, Underage, Incest, Underage Drinking, Drug Use, Minor Violence, 

Read here or on AO3.

“Peter! Peter, this is amazing!” 

Ned’s excited voice knocked Peter’s attention out of the textbook he was reading in the library during an impromptu study session with MJ. Peter shrank in his seat, feeling dozens of eyes staring them down. He shot a pleading look at Ned and watched as he slowly exhaled, tension running out of his shoulders, before he slid into the seat across from Peter at the table. 

“Guys!” Ned whispered excitedly. “They came!”

“What came?” Peter stared blankly at Ned. 

Ned looked around furtively, leaning forward to be closer to Peter and MJ. “The fakes.”

Peter felt a jolt of excitement run through his body, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his best friends as Ned started to draw a plain envelope out of his backpack.

“Stop!” MJ hissed. “After school- Can we meet at yours, Ned?”

“Totally!” He replied, wide smile gleaming.

Peter practically vibrated in excitement through the last period of the day, shooting off a quick text for permission to his father, and sighing in relief when he received the okay just as the dismissal bell rang. It had been a rough couple of months since his Dad caught Peter red handed at a club (how was Peter supposed to know his Dad’s date would end up there?), drunk as a skunk, confiscating his fake ID and grounding him severely in response. Thank God Peter hadn’t been high that night, or he probably would still be grounded, or maybe even shoved into one of those stuffy private schools for misbehaving rich kids. 

Ned and MJ met up with Peter by his locker, and they walked to Ned’s house together, rocketing up the stairs to his room with barely a word to Mrs. Leeds. Once safely inside, Ned flipped open the envelope and pulled out the plastic cards, handing one to Peter who examined it closely. 

“Ned,” Peter gasped, “this looks incredible! It’s so much better than the last one!”

“Right???” Ned said incredulously. “They look just like a regular ID, I can’t believe my cousin managed to get ahold of these.”

“You know what this means?” Peter asked.

“What?” Ned said, still clutching his ID in hand and staring at it in disbelief. 

“It means we’re back!” MJ crowed. “Good luck to anyone who tries to confiscate these babies!”

Peter suppressed a wave of unease as Ned and MJ whooped together in excitement, before dissolving into laughter as Ned’s mother yelled up the stairs for them to quiet down.

Finally it was Saturday night and their plan was in action. Get to the club, become appropriately socially lubricated, dance, maybe even find a hookup, then get back to their beds before parents were awake in the morning. Sneaking out of the Tower would have been impossible (and boy had he learned that lesson the hard way one spring evening Freshman year), so Peter and Ned waited at the Leeds’ for his parents to head to bed. Peter helped Ned out of the window with a small grunt of effort, then swung down himself. All those gymnastics lessons were finally coming in handy. 

They met up with MJ at the subway station. “Hey losers, you rolling tonight?” Ned and Peter quickly agreed, receiving the pills from MJ before swallowing them down dry with the ease of long practice. The trio headed downtown, overcome with good cheer and giggles during the course of the trip, dressed in their finest babyslut getups. 

The fake IDs Ned had gotten from his cousin had scanned at the door as genuine, gaining them entry to the club and access to the bar, access they’d immediately taken full advantage of. Peter jumped up and down with Ned and MJ as the beat dropped and the bass of the song vibrated through his bones, feeling open and loose, in sync with the crowd and with the universe. 

“MJ! MJ!” Peter laughed, yelling her name over the music. “I’m having so much fun!” 

Her response was swallowed in the sway of the crowd on the dancefloor, lips unreadable in the flashing strobe lights and fog inside the club. Peter lost himself to the pure joy of dancing with his best friends, heart thumping to the beat, sweat dripping down his face, smearing his eyeliner and leaving tracks through the iridescent highlighter swept across his cheekbones. 

“Hey!” Ned grabbed at Peter and MJ’s hands, towing them toward the bar. “This round’s on me!” 

Peter could just hear him over the music now that they were further away from the DJ. Ned held his cash in the air, clumsily getting the attention of the bartender and ordering them all lemon drop shots. The trio clinked their glasses together before knocking back the sugar-sweet lemon-tart throat-burning liquid with the faint grimace and loud whoop. 

Peter bopped his way back into the crowd of dancers, happily grinding on anyone who came his way, uncharacteristically uncaring about looks or even gender. The overwhelming urge for touch was fully upon him as he exchanged sloppy kisses and careless caresses with any number of partners, letting himself be passed around the dancefloor in a blur, like some glittery party favor. 

Several rounds of dancing and shots later, and Peter felt great. Better than great. Fantastic even. So what if everything was a little blurry around the edges? So what if he wasn’t absolutely sure where Ned and MJ had disappeared to? Peter was having the time of his life, everything was right with the world! He was sweet sixteen, flush with liquor and lust, and from the look of the guy eyeing him from across the dancefloor, attractive enough to fuck.

Peter shimmied his way through the bouncing crowd with loose limbed moves, catching the eye of a dark haired man with attractively trimmed facial hair. (Didn’t that remind him of someone? Peter pushed the thought away impatiently.) Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as they made eye contact, blue eyes catching on brown. Everything slowed down for a moment, the music fading into the background as Peter looked the man over, taking in his muscular arms and trim waist, eyefucking him from head to toe as the lights flashed through the haze. 

“Hi!” Peter yelled above the vibrating beat, watching the man’s lips as he returned the greeting. He didn’t waste any time, turning around and leaning back against the man to grind his ass against him on pure animalistic instinct, craving the pressure against his skin. The man’s hands came down to rest on Peter’s hips, pulling him into an energetic rhythm that matched the beat vibrating through Peter’s bones. 

Fuck, it felt so good to let go. To let the stress and expectations of being Tony Stark’s son and protégé drift away from his shoulders, disappear under the haze of molly, alcohol, and raw desire clouding his mind. Peter lifted an arm and wrapped it behind the man’s head, pulling his face down to Peter’s exposed neck. Score, the guy took the hint and started sucking livid marks into Peter’s pale skin, fueling the pool of liquid heat collecting in his core. The man’s hands travelled up and down Peter’s body, running over the front of his silky mesh shirt, sending a wave of shivery sensation through his skin. His fingers plucked against Peter’s sensitive nipples, dug hungrily against the dips of his defined abs, groped the sides and bottom curve of his ass. 

“Do you know somewhere more quiet we can go?” Peter yelled, spinning around to face the man, who grinned lecherously and nodded, pulling Peter with him through the crowd. 

They squeezed their way out an emergency exit in the back of the club, hands frantically rubbing whatever parts of the other could be reached, Peter’s mouth being enthusiastically penetrated by the man’s tongue as they kissed. Peter slammed the man against the wall, drinking in his noise of shocked surprise before dropping to his knees right there in the dirty alley. He could feel the grit of the city underneath his knees, even through his tight black jeans, and relished the grounding sensation to counteract the floating in his head. 

The man eagerly unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard cock, flopping it right in front of Peter’s face. His mouth was watering, senses overwhelmed by fresh sweat and masculine musk as his lips parted to take the man inside. Peter hummed happily, palming himself through his jeans as he gently sucked, bobbing his head back and forth and licking around the tip. 

“Fuck, your mouth-” The man gasped out, grabbing at Peter’s sweat soaked curls with shaking hands. 

Peter grinned around the man’s cock. All those hate fueled hookups with Flash Thompson had been good for something after all. Peter lost himself in the rhythm and feel of skin against his tongue, sucking harder and groaning at the salty taste of precum, neglected dick throbbing inside his pants. He groped blindly for the man’s leg and pulled it between his thighs to grind against it.

“Oh, that’s it. Fuck you’re a greedy lil thing, that’s right baby, suck that-”

“Hey! Asshole!”

Peter froze around the man’s cock before pulling off with a sloppy pop. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh my God, oh no, oh fuck, oh shit. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Peter screwed his eyes shut as he felt a familiar hand grab at the back of his neck, sending a slow roll of pleasure down his spine, and pulling him up and back from his kneeling position. 

The hand disappeared and there was a dull thud before a series of protests started. “Woah man, ow, what the hell?”

Peter was still half crouched, quivering in shame as he listened to the response, which was growled with menace. 

“I’m going to give you one chance to get the hell out of this alley before I separate your head from your spine.” 

The resulting silence was broken by the sound of rustling fabric, a zipper being closed, and rapid footsteps in the opposite direction. 

“Peter Anthony Stark.” That disappointed voice was like a bucket of ice dousing his lust, better at sobering him up than any greasy burger ever could be. 

“H- Hi Dad.” Peter stammered, looking up at his father, who was dark eyed and puffed up with rage. 

Tony held up his hand, silencing Peter with the familiar gesture. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again Peter. You didn’t learn the last time I had to pull you out of the gutter?”

That peculiar combination of shame and anger rose inside Peter, choking him, contributing to his sputtered denial. “I- I- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to-”

“You were doing exactly what you meant to do. Like you always do.” Tony’s voice was tight as he stared down at Peter, hands clenched at his sides. “Kid, I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct the same way I did.”

Peter shot to his feet, sudden fury winning out over the embarrassment of being caught with a cock halfway down his throat. “I’m just trying to have a little fucking fun! What I’m doing is nothing like what you did! Newsflash, Tony, we’re not the same person, no matter how often you act like we are.”

The echoing crack of the slap across Peter’s cheek seemed to catch them both by surprise. Peter rubbed his cheek in shock, wide eyed and slack jawed, watching Tony’s still raised hand with utter astonishment. 

His father was huffing and puffing like he’d just run a marathon, chest heaving, breath rasping in his throat as he spoke. “You think this is cute Pete? You think this is fun? All this acting out? It’s like you’re six again and throwing a tantrum, screaming out for Daddy’s attention. Well “newsflash” kiddo, you’ve got my full attention now.”

Peter was still speechless, his father had never hit him before. He’d never even been spanked as a kid, let alone slapped. “You- you hit me,” he said, rubbing his smarting face. 

Tony’s jaw tightened as a grudging laugh slid out from between his teeth. “Talk shit, get hit kid. Unfortunately you’re a little old for me to take over my knee. You’re lucky for that, or you wouldn’t be sitting down for a week after this stunt you pulled tonight. You wanna know how I knew you were here? The social media alerts I have set up on you started going crazy, Peter. Practically the whole city knew you were here, grinding like a slut on some stranger, getting drunk and God knows what else.” 

Peter’s vague noise of protest died in his throat as he thought of tomorrow's headlines. He looked at his father desperately. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Tony interjected, “I don’t want to hear it. Save your excuses.” Peter gasped as his father grabbed him with an iron grip by the upper arm, and started hauling him out of the alley to where a familiarly discrete black SUV was idling by the sidewalk. “Get in, and don’t think we’re done with this conversation.”

Peter opened the door and blanched to see a hangdog Ned and wide eyed MJ already in the back. He blushed fiercely as MJ’s perceptive gaze passed over the livid handprint on his left cheek. The ride to drop off his friends was silent, the teens not daring to speak to each other as they each reached their destinations, with only dreading looks exchanged. Even that brief contact brought a sideways and threatening look from Tony, daring them to talk at their own risk. Finally the vehicle was empty, but the silence still weighed heavy on Peter’s nerves. 

“Dad…” Peter spoke into the quiet, voice cracking on the single word. 

“Not now Pete, I’m driving.” Tony’s voice was still rife with irritation, and Peter’s mouth snapped shut in response. 

The utter stillness continued as Tony parked, and as they rode up the elevator to the penthouse. Peter fidgeted nervously the whole way, unable to keep still as the tension rose. He was still rolling, running his hands up and down his thighs, unable to keep still as the urge to touch and be touched seized his body. 

“What did you take?” Tony’s voice was firm as they walked into the living room, not leaving any room for excuses or prevarication. 

“Molly.” Peter muttered to the floor, unable to meet his father’s eyes. He flinched and gasped as his father’s hand lifted his chin, forcing him to make eye contact.  

“Want to try that again kid? What did you take?”

Peter quivered under Tony’s laser sharp gaze. “M- molly.”

Tony’s sigh of disappointment cut into Peter like a knife. The ride back across the city had cooled his righteous indignation, leaving only the shame behind. Peter looked back to the floor, pulling away reluctantly from his father’s hand. 

“I am so incredibly disappointed in you Peter. I’ve always tried to be open with you about my struggles with substance abuse, and hoped you would learn from my mistakes and not repeat them. You can consider yourself on lockdown, no phone, no friends.”

Peter kept looking down at the floor, the film of tears he’d been battling since the slap prickling in his eyes. His dad was right, Peter had really fucked up tonight, in a spectacularly visible way, and so soon after gaining privileges back. “I’m sorry…” Peter whispered. 

“I don’t believe you Pete. I can’t trust anything you say right now.”

Tony’s words stung worse than the slap had. “That’s not fair!” It burst out of Peter’s mouth before he could think twice.

“You think that’s unfair?” Tony scoffed. “Trust me, you’re going to be learning a big lesson on what’s fair and what’s not. Just- Go get ready for bed. I can barely even look at you after what I saw tonight.”

Peter was suddenly furious again, hurt boiling over, too hot to consider the effect of his words. “Is that what Howard told you? After your first sex tape leaked?” He looked up with fire blazing in his eyes to note with satisfaction how his father’s jaw had dropped. “Guess what Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. So what, I like to suck dick.” Peter jutted his jaw out defiantly. “From what I’ve seen, that apple sure didn’t fall far from the tree.” 

“Bed!” Tony practically roared, eyes flashing, pointing toward Peter’s room. 

“Fine!” Peter shouted back, stomping down the hallway with the full power of his favorite Docs. He stormed into his room, slamming the door and hearing the answering shout echo down the hallway. Peter was most of the through angrily stripping, standing in his socks, bare chested with just his black briefs on by the time the door flew open. “Dad!” He yelped, “I’m changing!” 

“Don’t care, as you so clearly pointed out, nothing I’ve never seen before.” Tony’s voice was clipped with irritation. “Finish getting ready for bed.”

Peter practically ran into the bathroom and slammed that door shut too, locking it behind him. He collapsed onto the cool tile floor, chest heaving with frustrated sobs as the doorknob jiggled.

“Unlock the door Pete. I don’t trust you being alone.”

“Fuck you!” Peter hissed venomously through the door. Dead silence was the answer, instead of the explosion Peter was goading for. 

“JARVIS,” Tony enunciated clearly, “unlock Peter’s bathroom door, override code, ‘Daddy knows best.’”

Peter gaped at the door as it audibly unlocked and swung open and his father stalked inside.

“You want to act like a child Peter? I can treat you like a child!” Tony was clearly still furious, eyes flashing down at Peter who was huddled on the bathroom floor by the sink. “Stand up!”

“No!” Peter shouted back, foot kicking down on the floor in defiance.   

Tony reached down and hauled Peter up from the floor, hands under his arms like he was nothing more than a little kid. Peter kicked and struggled the whole way as he was deposited to sit on the counter by the sink. “Stay there!”

Peter huddled in on himself miserably, feeling exposed and small, shivering in his briefs and socks as the cool marble sunk in through the fabric. He watched in confusion as his dad pulled Peter’s toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet, getting the toothbrush wet under the faucet and squirting toothpaste on the bristles. 

“Open.” His father’s voice didn’t leave room for argument, but Peter resisted, giving in to the childish urge to shake his head with his lips pressed tight together. 

Tony caught Peter’s chin with one strong hand and pinched at the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Peter squawked in alarm as his body followed Tony’s whim instead of his own will, spluttering as his father firmly inserted the toothbrush into Peter’s mouth. 

“Dad! Stop!” Peter’s whining protests were garbled by the toothbrush as it slipped and slid roughly over his teeth and gums, spreading an intensely minty taste. 

“Can’t believe I found you in some alley on your knees, gonna clean out that filthy fucking mouth of yours.” Tony was growling aggravated nonsense as he scrubbed harshly inside Peter’s mouth. “Down in the gutter sucking off some Tony Stark knockoff while the real one is at home worried, you think your life is unfair?! You think I like watching you disobey and disrespect and self-destruct?”

Fat tears were swelling up in Peter’s eyes, the ghostly ache of the earlier slap making itself known as his father’s strong grip pressed into his cheek, keeping his mouth vulnerable and open. As Tony continued brushing across Peter’s teeth those tears started running down his face in streams as he hiccupped and choked around the toothbrush invading his mouth. The foam that had built up was dripping out of the corners of his lips and down his chin. 

Peter tried to fire back around the intrusion, he wasn’t disobedient or disrespectful or self destructive, he wasn’t! He just wanted to have a little fun. All Peter succeeded in doing was sobbing miserably and disgustingly leaking out toothpaste onto Tony’s hand. He'd never felt so achingly vulnerable, not when Flash first pushed him against the lockers and forced him to his knees, not the first time his father had caught him trying to sneak out of the tower, not even when the paparazzi caught up with him after a particularly bad day at school, sobbing his sorrows out over his mother’s grave. 

Tony let go of Peter’s jaw and maneuvered him sideways over the sink by his shoulder. “Spit.” 

The touch against his bare skin rocketed tingles down Peter’s spine and to his- Oh no. Peter sputtered the foam out of his mouth into the basin, chest heaving with shame. Why was- How could he be? The more he thought about it, tried to unravel his feelings, the harder his dick throbbed between his legs, tenting the dark fabric of his briefs. 

Drowning in confusion, Peter felt utterly unmoored as his father let go of him, turned on the taps, and cupped his hands underneath to catch the water. 

“Rinse.” Tony said flatly, holding his hands up to Peter’s lips. 

Peter shook his head frantically, needing something, needing just a minute to think- To calm down-

“Rinse!” Tony snapped. 

The roiling combination of shame, panic, and desire bubbling in Peter’s stomach erupted. He shoved his father’s hands away, spilling water all down his chest and stomach. “I’m not a child,” Peter shouted as he tried to swipe the cold water off his skin, “and I don’t know how to prove it to you!”

Dead silence was his only answer. 

Peter looked up in confusion from where he’d been glaring at the floor, waiting for the reprimand for losing his temper. Aw fuck. His dad was staring straight down at his hard-on, which was pointing proudly toward the ceiling like it had nothing to be ashamed of, like everything about popping a boner in this situation wasn’t completely wrong.

“I can see that,” Tony finally replied in a coolly interested voice, anger still present but iced over by something- Something else Peter couldn’t identify. 

Peter started to curl defensively into a ball on the counter, but was stopped by Tony’s hands coming down to rest on the tops of his thighs, fingers splaying out across his sensitive skin. He gasped as the touch set off another rolling wave of pleasure to his core that left goosebumps in its wake, sent shivers up his chest, hardening his nipples to little brown peaks. 

“You wanna prove you’re not a little kid Petey?” 

Peter had never heard that tone in his father’s voice before. “Dad?” He asked in a small voice, head spinning, confused beyond belief, heartbeat racing. 

Tony leaned in and nuzzled at Peter’s neck, rubbing his goatee against Peter’s pulse as his hands traveled slowly up Peter’s thighs. Peter gasped out a shocked moan as the prickly sensation sent heat blazing straight toward his throbbing dick. 

“What?” Peter panted. “I don’t-”

“Shhh,” Tony soothed against Peter’s skin. “Isn’t this what you want? To prove to me you’re old enough?”

Peter tilted his head back against the mirror and parted his suddenly dry mouth. “I- I guess-”

Tony dragged his lips up Peter’s neck and to the shell of his ear. “Good boy,” he said crisply before fitting his mouth against Peter’s and squeezing down on his thighs, digging his nails into Peter’s pale skin. 

Peter’s reflexive protest that he wasn’t a boy was swallowed up by his father’s lips and probing tongue, and turned into a moan deep in his throat as fireworks sparked off under his skin. Though he’d thought the kiss from the stranger earlier that night was good, it was nothing compared to this all consuming experience. Tony’s nails slowly scratched up Peter’s thighs toward his aching cock, making him whimper helplessly into his father’s mouth. 

Breaking the kiss and laughing cruelly at Peter’s confused whine, Tony traveled down Peter’s body with his lips and teeth, nipping sharply and sucking at his pebbled nipples, drinking in the sound of his son’s shocked gasps and moans. 

“Wait, no- You can’t- Dad!” Peter cried out as Tony reached his goal, and mouthed lightly at Peter’s hardness through the cotton of his briefs, sucking at the dot of precum that had dampened the fabric by the tip of his son’s dick. 

“Has anyone ever done this for you before?” Tony asked, looking up at Peter and ignoring his protests.

Peter shook his head wildly back and forth, looking down at his father with wide eyes. “I- I’m usually the one who-”

Tony grinned wickedly up at Peter, then tugged impatiently at the tight elastic waist of his son’s briefs and pulled it down past Peter’s hips and ass, freeing his erection to bob fully in the air. Laving at his son’s leaking tip with a practiced tongue, Tony sucked Peter’s dick into the wet heat of his mouth. 

“Ah- Hah-” Peter was beyond words as his father bobbed his head up and down. He curled around Tony as he was completely overwhelmed by the sensations, by the silken tightness surrounding his cock, by the agile working of his dad’s tongue around the tip on every upstroke. 

Peter lost track of time as waves of pleasure lapped in his core, radiating out to all his limbs, tingling at the base of his skull. He could feel his balls drawing up and tightening, and couldn’t control the rocking of his hips, the perverse urge to fuck up into his father’s mouth. 

Pulling off Peter with a wet slurp, Tony tugged him forward off the counter until his feet met the floor, and flipped him around roughly by the hips, tugging his briefs down all the way to the floor. He stopped to give the perfect roundness of Peter’s cheeks a series of wet nips as he stood, before tucking his head over his son’s shoulder, and meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Peter’s irises were almost invisible, swallowed by the black of his enlarged pupils, surrounded by smeared eyeliner and accented by sooty tear tracks down his cheeks. His eyes grew impossibly wide as he heard the metal of his father’s zipper being undone, and felt Tony’s hardness nestling between his bare cheeks, hot like a branding iron against his skin. It felt huge. Tony flexed his hips forward, making Peter hiss as the head of his father’s cock nudged against his virgin hole. 

“Dad,” Peter began, voice breaking off as Tony ground against him again, making him throb with empty want and abject terror. 

“Yeah Petey?” Tony grunted as he rooted through the medicine cabinet for something slick, hips rutting forward over and over, rubbing the tip of his dick across Peter’s asshole with increasingly slippery thrusts. 

“I- I don’t feel so good.” Peter’s head was back to spinning and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, even as the slide of skin on skin sent electric sparks shooting though him. 

“Shhh baby,” Tony cooed, opening the jar of coconut oil he’d found. “It’s about to feel really good.” 

Pulling back, Tony slicked up his cock with the oil, spreading it with a series of wet schlicks that echoed dimly in Peter’s ears. Peter gasped weakly as his father’s now slickened cock resumed rubbing against his hole, pressing inside ever so slightly with every pass. 

Dad!” Peter cried out. 

“What?” Tony bit out.

“I’m scared,” Peter confessed in a small voice.

“You getting scared like a little kid Petey? Tony mockingly caressed Peter’s hair. “Afraid of what you don’t know? What’s next, you gonna be afraid of the dark again, need me to tuck you in, need a nightlight?” 

“‘M not a little kid,” Peter shot back in a watery voice, holding back a confused sob. Everything felt so good, felt so bad, he just wanted so badly to be touched, just maybe not- Maybe not like this. 

“Just relax, you’ll be fine.” Tony pushed forward again, gripping Peter’s hips and using the leverage to keep constant pressure against the ring of muscle that clung tightly to the tip of his cock. “Fuck baby,” Tony grunted, slowly forcing himself inside of his son. “Been waiting for you to grow up a little, out sucking on lookalikes when you could have been here sucking on me instead.”

Peter cried out as Tony’s dick slowly slid inside his clinging hole, bringing with it a stinging ache that radiated out to his lower back and thighs. “Stop! Dad, it hurts-”

Tony reached around and tugged at Peter’s cock, which was still hard enough to pound nails. “Can’t hurt that much.” He said dismissively before returning his hands to Peter’s hips, holding him in a bruising grip. “Now shush- Man up,” Tony grunted as his hardness forced inside fully, “and stop your whining.”

Tears were welling up in Peter’s eyes again as the pain built, feeling like his insides were rearranged inch by searing inch. He started crying again in earnest, fresh tracks tracing down his cheeks as Tony pulled back glacially slowly, then slid home again, pulling on Peter’s hips for leverage as Peter clung to the bathroom counter for support, fingers scrabbling against the cool marble surface. 

“You wanted to play grown up games, you’re going to win grown up prizes,” Tony said breathlessly as his strokes increased in speed, balls slapping rhythmically against Peter as he experimented with the angle of his thrusts. 

“Oh!” Peter warbled as his father’s cock brushed against his prostate. “Fuck- Fuck!”

Tony grinned sharkishly in the mirror. “There we go,” he crowed, and added power to his strokes, mercilessly grinding his shaft against Peter’s stinging rim with every push, hammering against his sweet spot. 

“Dad-” Peter sobbed, pain and pleasure mixing up in his system like a hurricane, dick leaking where it hung between his thighs, drooling a long shining string of precum toward the floor. 

“That’s right Petey, you take this cock,” Tony growled lowly. 

As the minutes passed, the stinging was beginning to subside, leaving only lapping waves of warmth in its wake. Peter could see his body glistening with sweat in the mirror, curls plastered down to his forehead as his sobs turned into hitching moans. He was beginning to lean back into the thrusts, pushing his hips and arching his back to meet his father’s powerful pumps. Peter reached between his legs and grasped his aching dick, hissing in pleasure as he spread slickness from the tip down to his balls and back up again, jerking himself with fervor. 

Leaning his head down to pillow on his braced arm, Peter moaned quietly, “Dad?”

“What?” Tony panted between flexes of his hips. 

“Can you- I need-” Peter’s body quivered as he tried to speak. 

“Adults use their words,” Tony said harshly as he reached up and pulled Peter’s head back by his hair, forcing him to make eye contact in the mirror. “What do you want?”

“Please, fuck me harder!” Peter blurted out, flushed cheeks darkening with shame as he watched his father’s face. 

Tony laughed darkly and let go of Peter’s hair, letting his head fall back down to his arm and resuming his clawing grasp on his son's hips. “Who knew I raised such a fucking slut?” 

Peter gasped in shock and stroked himself harder as Tony’s thrusts sped up to a blistering pace, moaning like a cheap whore as his father’s cock pistoned in and out of his hole, slamming against his sweet spot on every stroke. His balls were tight with need, the heat in his core raging like a wildfire. Peter just needed- He didn’t know what he needed, but he needed it soon, he needed it like, now; he needed it like, yesterday.  

“You like that baby boy?” Tony reached in between their bodies and traced Peter’s reddened rim with his fingers before slowly pressing in a single digit, stretching Peter’s hole even further. 

Peter cried out fiercely as his ass began to burn again, white heat overtaking his vision.

“You like being all grown up?” Tony asked breathlessly. “You like being Daddy’s big boy slut?”

His father’s words hit Peter like a bolt of lightning, making his legs shake and back arch uncontrollably. Heat erupted from him as his cock jerked in his grasp and shot out long strings of cum onto the bathmat. His ass clenched, hard, around his father, muscles rippling in rhythmic pulses to the timing of his tsunami of pleasure. 

"Fuck, Pete-" Tony cursed, hips stuttering behind, into, out of Peter, finally coming to a lurching stop as a liquid heat spread inside Peter's ass. 

The bathroom was silent for long moments, except for their slowly calming breaths. Peter watched his father in the mirror, questioningly tracing the lines of his face as he pulled his cock out of Peter’s sloppy hole. 

"Dad?" Peter asked in a small voice. 

Tony sounded utterly spent as he replied, rubbing absently at Peter's hips where his fingers had left livid marks. "What Petey?" 

"Am I still grounded?"

[some-lists]

My Favorite Movies & TV Shows About Sisters

I already did a list of my favorite movies and tv shows about best friends. As I was compiling that list, a number of movies and shows about sisters popped into my head. I didn’t include them because I thought, “Well, they’re sisters, not friends.” So, now I present a list of my favorite movies and TV shows about sisters!

10. Switched at Birth

Switched at Birth is about two teen girls who discover they were switched at birth. They both choose to meet their biological families and become forever connected. Though Bay and Daphne are not actually sisters, they become sisters as they now share parents, siblings, and homes. They come from different walks of life. Bay is wealthy while Daphne was raised by a single working Latina mother. What’s especially great is the inclusion of deaf and hard of hearing leads and the use of sign language.

9. Sense & Sensibility

Pride & Prejudice is usually the most popular of Jane Austen’s novels (and movie adaptations), but I personally like Sense & Sensibility more. The 90′s version has an excellent cast that includes Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant, and Alan Rickman. Marianne Dashwood (Winslet) is the hopeless romantic who wears her heart out on her sleeve. Sensible, dutiful Elinor (Thompson) keeps all her feelings to herself. They fall in love, have their hearts broken, and have each other’s backs even if they don’t totally understand each other.

8. Fuller House

The original Full House is a better show than Fuller House, but I like the female trio of DJ, Stephanie, and Kimmy in the sequel series. Kimmy isn’t a sister, but she essentially becomes one of their sisters and officially Stephanie’s sister-in-law. They all have their different personalities that align with the original male trio in Full House. DJ is the goody-goody, slightly OCD supermom (Danny). Stephanie is the fun loving aunt (Uncle Jesse). Kimmy is the wacky best friend (Joey). We get to see them go on girl nights out, plan parties, serve as bridesmaids, and more. Full House may be the classic, but I think Fuller House is more fun.

7. Charmed

I haven’t seen the new reboot of Charmed, so this is about the 90s-00s version. I’ll admit the current drama between the two casts has left a sour taste in my mouth. But the original show was one I looked forward to watching with my two sisters each week. We loved that each sister had their own distinct magical power and their own successful careers. I preferred when Shannen Doherty was in the cast as oldest sister Prue over Rose McGowan’s Paige. But watching either trio combat demons while navigating their love lives was good entertainment.

6. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before

Even though To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is mainly a rom-com about Lara Jean’s love life, it’s also a sweet story about sisters. The sister relationships were especially wonderful in the books, and one of the things I really loved about it. We see even though Lara Jean has had some sadness in her life, she is supported by her loving family. It’s nice that they are not jealous of each other or resentful towards one another. They may bicker from time to time, but ultimately the love between the three of them is clear.

5. 10 Things I Hate About You

One of my favorite movies of all time! Just like To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, 10 Things I Hate About You is a rom-com that happens to feature a great sister relationship. Kat and Bianca are total opposites. Kat is anti-social while Bianca is a social butterfly. In the beginning we see resentment between the two due to their differences in personality. Bianca thinks Kat is a bitch. Kat thinks Bianca is shallow and conceited. But by the end they grow to respect each other. We see that Kat is actually a very strong, driven, independent woman. Bianca grows from a spoiled rich girl to someone who sees past vanity and stands up for her sister. Also, Heath Ledger.

4. Wish Upon a Star

Someone brilliant took the concept of Freaky Friday and applied it to sisters. The younger bookworm sister swaps bodies with her older, popular sister. While in each other’s bodies, they both grow into better people as they walk in the other’s shoes. The younger sister becomes more confident. The older sister becomes less superficial and a better student. They both learn to like themselves for who they are and grow closer as they have to rely on each other to switch back.

3. Hocus Pocus

In the spirit of Halloween, I had to include the Sanderson Sisters. Even though this movie isn’t exactly about sisters, it features one of the best sister trios ever. Winnie is the bossy one, Mary has hound dog-like sniffing abilities, and Sarah is the sexy airhead. They are so entertaining and funny. Classic!

2. Little Women

I haven’t seen the newest version of Little Women -- though I really want to. The 90′s version was one of my all time favorite movies. It had an all star cast with Winona Rider as feisty Jo, Claire Danes as shy Beth, Kirsten Dunst as young Amy, Christian Bale as boy next door Laurie, and Susan Sarandon as Marmie. They are all wonderful. We see the sisters play together, fight, and grow up. It sticks pretty close to the book, and it has a warm, charming Christmas vibe to it. Now I just have to see the new one!

1. Sister Sister

Two identical twins discover they were separated as babies after being adopted by different people. They find each other again and move in together. Tia is studious while Tamera is a party girl. They have a pesky little neighbor to deal with along with other high school adventures. Their parents, especially Tia’s mom Lisa Landry, are hilarious. Sister Sister was just a really cool show.

[pickybearcub]

Getting to know Spiderboy: Chapter 15

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC (platonic) Genre: Friendship/ Adventure/ Family Story summary: Ten minutes. Ten minutes was all it took. She found his backpack in the alley and left before he got there. Now, before Peter knows it, Ned thinks he has a secret girlfriend and Spiderman has to be her kibble runner.

Chapter warnings: Flash is still a jerk. Cuteness and fluff near the end. A/N: Made some art for this chapter (will post later). GIFs not mine, story dividers by @whimsicalrogers​

Catch up here

Ned: Liz invited me and Peter to a party at her house!

Nadia was a little surprised. Why wasn't Peter the one texting her this? A thought later and she chuckled. The teenager was probably still freaking out slightly.

Nadia: You know, I'm actually going there tonight too. Liz ordered some cupcakes for her party.

Ned: Oooh! What kind?

Nadia: That's a surprise. :)

She typed out the text and sent it to Ned before getting back to wiping down a few tables. Her phone buzzed again, but she finished cleaning up and headed to the back room of the café before she took out her phone again to read the text.

Peter: You're going to Liz's party? I thought you agreed to swap patrols today?

Nadia: I told Ned I'm delivering cupcakes.

Nadia: Don't worry, I'll be long gone before you even get there.

Peter: Oh, ok.

Nadia: It's going to be a party full of high schoolers. Why would I stay?

Nadia chuckled before shooting one last text to Peter and getting back to work.

Nadia: Have fun. You deserve to relax after dealing with Ned the whole day. And talk to Liz!

Nadia: The cupcakes are one of the recipes we made for the bake sale. I give you permission to share it. ;)

Nadia prepped the cupcakes and tied the boxes together, three in each hand. She pulled up a Google street view of the address she was given on her phone. Since the party was in the suburbs, she could easily open a portal somewhere she wouldn't be noticed. The sun was just beginning to set when she arrived at the house. Knocking on the door, Nadia was greeted by the smiling face of a short blonde-haired girl.

"Hi!" The girl chirped.

"Hey. I'm Nadia Capelli and I brought over some cupcakes for Liz Allan." Nadia replied, holding up the boxes in her hands.

"Oh! Here, let me help you with that!" The blonde hastily took one set, before stepping back and calling over her shoulder, "Liz! The cupcakes are here!"

Nadia noticed that a few other students had already arrived and were loitering around the living room, hallway, and backyard.

There was a bit of shuffling before the familiar face of Peter's crush popped out from where Nadia assumed the kitchen was. "Nadia!" The younger girl smiled and rushed to the doorway, taking the second set of boxes from the older girl.

"Come inside! Uhm, the pizza won't get here 'til a bit later, but we have some soda in the kitchen." Liz invited, stepping aside.

Nadia shook her head and gave an apologetic smile. "Oh no. I couldn't. Besides, I'd be a bit out of place with all of you kids." She chuckled.

"You make it sound like you're fifty." Liz laughed. "You can't be that much older than us, Nadia. Aren't you eighteen? Nineteen maybe?" She guessed.

"Older, actually." Nadia grinned. Liz looked a bit surprised.

"Really?" She shrugged. "I swear you don't look like it. Anyway, how much do I owe you again?" She asked while reaching a hand into her pocket. Her brow furrowed before she turned around. "Betty! Is my purse in the kitchen?"

"Hey, actually," Nadia called Liz's attention. "Just give the payment to Peter. He can hand it to me tomorrow or I can get it from his aunt." She held out a piece of paper listing the prices of the different muffins and the total bill.

The girl seemed a bit unsure, "I'm not really sure if he's coming to the party, though. He's been a bit busy lately with his Stark internship. Ned mentioned he was thinking of quitting the school band too." The same blonde girl from earlier appeared behind Liz, holding a purse. Betty gave Liz her bag and took the boxes of cupcakes in exchange.

"Really? I didn't know." Nadia frowned. One of the reasons she'd agreed to take turns going on patrol was so that Peter wouldn't feel the need to quit his extra-curricular school activities.

"You seem really close to Peter," Liz said casually as she pulled some bills from her wallet.

"Hmmm?" Nadia was pulled from her thoughts. She smiled fondly after a second. "Yeah. He deals with me badgering him into running a few errands every once in a while. He's sweet."

Liz paused while she counted the money before she handed it to the older girl with a smile. "I think it's nice he has someone else other than his aunt watching over him. He mentions you a lot during decathlon practice. That's how I remembered the cupcakes you sold during the bake sale a few months back. Thankfully, my mom still had your card."

Nadia nodded, "I think both he and Ned try to talk me up a little too much hoping they'll probably get a batch of free pastries in return." Both girls chuckled. "Thanks again for ordering from me. Just shoot me a text again if you ever want to buy some cookies or brownies too." With that, Nadia waved and started down the driveway. "Have a good party!"

"Thanks! And take care!" Liz waved back before going back inside. She left the front door open because a few more of her friends from school were walking up the driveway.

"Who was the college girl?" Flash Thompson asked from the doorway of the kitchen as he poured himself some soda. "She was pretty."

Liz rolled her eyes slightly. "Peter and Ned's friend."

He almost choked on his coke. "Y-You mean she's Parker's babysitter?" He shook his head before saying disdainfully, "That's totally unfair."

Liz sighed and ignored Flash, pulling another pack of plastic cups from a cabinet.

Peter's nerves only grew worse as they drove up to the house in the suburbs. He would rather be training with Nadia or going on a split patrol with her rather than be here. Music was playing loudly in the background, lights were flashing from inside the house, and a lot of people were milling around.

"This was a mistake. Hey, let's just go home." He pleaded with May, but then she started lecturing, and he jumped out of the car not really wanting to hear more of how he was "flowering". He cringed at the word.

He felt like a hypocrite when he used to tell Nadia that she had a responsibility when it came to using her powers, yet here he was with his suit under his clothes. All for the sake of popularity.

His resolve to just be plain Peter Parker during the party was wavering, but he slowly conceded to his fate when May drove away and they walked up the path to the house. Seeing Liz made another part of him made him rethink the decision and maybe just show up for a bit as his vigilante self. However, the thought of how disappointed Nadia would be really bothered him.

Peter began to argue with Ned about "spidering it up".

Whatever resolve he had to just be himself that night crumbled to dust when Flash called him that stupid name and started spewing taunts from the DJ booth, loud enough for everyone, even the neighbors, to hear.

Before he knew it, he was on the rooftop of Liz's house, practicing what he would say when he showed up as Spider-man.

"God this is stupid…" Peter muttered to himself, running a hand over his face. "What am I doing?" He looked down at the living room, where Ned was looking around, waiting for him.

 Responsibility.

Using the suit as a party trick was the absolute opposite of that word.

Happy already didn't take him seriously. If he found out, and he definitely would with all the social media, that he made an appearance at a party as Spider-man, it definitely wouldn't help his case.

And Nadia… Peter wouldn't be able to face her. She was always understanding of him, but she would still be disappointed. Peter didn't want that. She was one of the only people who treated him like he could handle himself.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when an abrupt explosion caught his attention.

"The hell?..." He wondered to himself, pulling on his mask. He was just starting out to the site of the blast when his phone started ringing, Nadia's teasing face on the screen.

::Hey, Peter… I know you're at a party, but-::

"I saw it." He huffed as he ran across a sprawling lawn of grass, the sprinklers going off. "I'm on my way to check it out."

::You're on your way?:: There was a pause before Nadia came to a conclusion. :: You had your suit with you… Why would you?…:: She trailed off, suspicion in her tone. :: Nevermind… The priority is recon right now. That blast looked powerful, be careful. I'm also on my way.::

-----

Nadia had conjured a portal based on her best estimations of where she'd seen the blast. Luckily, the explosion left a hum of energy in the air that she could track. The second blast that crackled through the air helped too.

She had hoped that her choice of location to wait for the arms deal to happen was closer to the actual site.  That was the catch with knowing things. You knew general plot, but not exact times or locations for a lot of things.

She did her best to get to the site of the explosions as quick as possible, but when she got there, Peter was already getting dragged off by a van that seemed to be filled with weapons.

Thank the gods she'd practiced racing with Peter, otherwise, she would have been completely left behind. Chasing was not really something she was adept at.

"Spider-man!" She called after him as he was dragged down the street, cringing every time he crashed into something.

The vigilante looked to the side and saw glimpses of Nadia sprinting and portalling after him every few seconds.

She'd tire herself out quickly if she kept it up.

When a man inside the van started shooting at Peter, Nadia narrowed her eyes in determination. Not having enough time to levitate something as she kept following, she conjured a large sphere of magic in one hand before launching it forcefully at the back of the vehicle.

The car jerked roughly, most of the sphere hitting the inside wall, but some magic making contact with the man holding the weapon. It disoriented him enough to make him lose his grip on the alien gun. It tumbled out, onto the street, then into the yard of some house.

Peter continued to collide with trash cans as he was dragged on with the driver of the van steering erratically to try to shake the vigilante off.

It was then that Spider-man slammed forcefully into a small brick structure at the side of the road, forcing him to let go of the line he had connected to the van. When he tried to attach another to the back of the vehicle, the door broke off.

"Great…" he said sarcastically, putting up his arms in frustration.

Nadia appeared beside him immediately, panting slightly. "I can't keep up a chase like this. I'll find a way to get ahead and make a barricade a few streets over."

"Good plan. Okay, I'll take a short cut."

They shared a nod before they quickly went their separate ways, Peter leaping over an iron gate and Nadia once more portalling away.

The young woman had to conjure several more gateways before she put enough distance between her and the van to have enough time to start a barrier spell. The trap was just about ready when she heard Peter yell "Surprise!" as he leapt from the roof of a house. However, his voice was drowned out by the sound of what Nadia could only describe as the roar of engines.

The partially erected wall she was building dissipated as the van drove through it. She watched in horror as Peter was lifted high into the air too quickly for her to do anything but scream.

Peter struggled against the metal grip on his body, panicking at the height he was being carried to. Below him, he could barely make out the sparks of Nadia's magic as she tried to portal after him… Then, he was too far up to distinguish between the lights of the city and the signs of her sorcery.

He couldn't fly. It wasn't a power he had. Even physically enhanced, a fall from this height meant that he would be dead. There was a series of beeps coming from his suit before he was dropped headfirst. A parachute deployed just as he started falling, tangling him in the material as he fell through the air.

Helplessly, he struggled, trying desperately to untangle himself. Panicked yells and panted breaths left his mouth.

He saw glimpses of the sky, the surrounding city, the blackness of water below him. He thought he saw wild flashes of green over the lake before the parachute blinded him again.

There was some relief in his mind that he would land in water, but a part of him knew that falling from over a thousand feet high, even into water, was like landing on solid concrete.

A warmth suddenly enveloped him, accompanied by a bright green glow that lasted a few seconds. His freefall seemed to slow. The next split-second, he hit something solid, though nothing close to what he expected.

He felt his body being re-positioned in the air before there was a loud splash and he was surrounded by cold and darkness.

The plunge into the water was a shock. He struggled again to free himself from the material of the parachute, however, the task was a thousand times harder under water. Helplessness was beginning to flood him as he continued to sink.

There was another bright flash of green and for a moment, a sound similar to rushing wind met his ears before he was free of the parachute. The material was ripped to a thousand tiny shreds that were floating in pieces in the water around him. He swiped his hands around frantically to clear his field of vision.

Even though his mind was a bit foggy from the lack of air, he had enough sense in him to grab hold of the white-masked form that was being weighed down by her robes.

He held her arm tightly as they both kicked up towards the surface of the water, desperate for air.

Something dove in after them and the two would have attempted to attack on reflex if they weren't so drained. It took a moment for them to process that it was Iron Man. The hero had the two vigilantes sandwiched together, back to back in its grip as he flew over the water.

Metal hands were secured underneath Peter's armpits and Nadia was behind the teen, arms clinging around Iron Man's neck.

They were set back down on top of a dome-shaped jungle gym in what looked like a children's play area. Nadia immediately huffed and slid down to the ground, lying flat on the grass.

Peter would have panicked again, but Nadia put up one finger and groaned faintly. "Fine. Tired…"

She barely heard Peter recounting what happened, only to find out that he was talking to an empty suit.

:: You should be thanking your little trainee and the fact that this place has WiFi, otherwise, you'd be toast.::

Drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, she caught snippets of the two arguing about taking down the man with the wings, the weapons dealers, and something about college.

The suit turned to Nadia, scanning her. :: Sabrina's vitals are stable, but it looks like she conked out.::

"Wh-What?!" Peter hopped down to the ground and knelt next to where Nadia was splayed on the grass.

:: Mr. Stark is no longer connected.:: A female voice reported.

Peter jumped up, "W-Wait!" he tried as the suit turned and flew off.

His shoulders dropped, "That's awesome…" He grumbled before turning back to Nadia's sleeping form. "H-Hey, Nadia…"

"Mmmm…"

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned. He pulled off her mask gently, noticing that the right side was cracked.

"Just… just tired." She mumbled, eyes half opening. Peter was glad to see that her hazel orbs were mostly clear.

"Can you stand?"

"Mmmm…" She hummed softly in reply, holding out a hand which the teen used to pull her into a half-sitting position.

"H-Hey, Nadia! S-Stay awake!" He raised his voice when he noticed she was leaning into him with her eyes closed again. She was still soaking wet from their fall into the lake. "We need to get you home." He whispered mostly to himself, noting how she was shivering.

Unlike him, Nadia didn't have a heater in her robes. He shook her shoulder, relieved to see that it seemed to wake her up for the moment. "Can you conjure a portal?" She nodded tiredly.

It took longer than usual and the portals sparked out twice, but the third one was stable. Stevie was barking from her living room on the other side. Peter pulled Nadia's arm over his shoulder when she didn't make a move to stand on her own.

"I can walk…" The young woman complained, though her eyes were barely open.

"Sure you can." Peter chuckled, walking slowly through the gateway, grass turning into soft carpet. It was a good thing Nadia's apartment was somewhat warm compared to the playground.

"Couch… you need to get back." She ordered as firmly as she could, feeling exhausted.

He did as directed and set her down on the sofa. The teen looked at her a bit worriedly as she leaned her head back on the couch, sighing deeply.

"Just exhausted. Swear… Few minutes…" She made a rolling motion with her hand. "Go…"

"I will, but…" He walked to her bedroom first, then her bathroom, coming back with one of her oversized shirts, flannel pants, and a large towel. He draped the shirt and pants on the back of the couch and the towel on Nadia's head, ruffling the cloth to absorb the water in her wet hair.

"Peeeeeterrr…" She slurred, putting her own hand on the towel and looking up at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "I can do it..."

He shook his head and continued drying her damp locks. Nadia gave up grumbling and just let him do as he wanted. After a minute, he stopped, pulling down part of the towel to around her shoulders. There was a pause, and they were both still. "Thanks… For-for you know… for catching me." 

Nadia only smiled softly and nodded.

"Any time. Now, I can do it." She repeated her earlier statement. "Go…" She swatted at his arm and weakly kicked the side of his leg toward the still-open portal.

Peter put his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back. "Stevie, make sure she dries off, okay boy?" The dog barked before jumping onto the couch and nudging his mistress with his nose and paws until she sat up. Her posture was incredibly slouched, but she still managed to glare at Peter. The heat of it was dampened by her drowned look and the fluffy purple towel wrapped around her head and shoulders.

Satisfied, Peter waved, smiling, and walked back through the portal.

---

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[oscopelabs]

Telling Lies In America 1985-1995: The Joe Eszterhas Era by Jessica Kiang

“Written by Joe Eszterhas” is a phrase that has not had much of a workout on US cinema screens in over twenty years—and it’s arguable whether the 1997, 19-screen nationwide release of certifiable shitshow Burn Hollywood Burn: An Alan Smithee Film exactly qualifies as “a workout.” But for those of us who had the parental training wheels come off our theatrical filmgoing in the late ‘80s or early ‘90s, there were few individuals more central to our cinematic coming-of-age. And with perhaps the sole exception of Shane Black, a different animal in any case, none of the others—the Spielbergs, Camerons, Tarantinos—were exclusively screenwriters. For over a decade, the Hungarian-born, Hollywood-minted superstar writer of Basic Instinct bestrode the adult-oriented commercial screenwriting mainstream like a smirking colossus in a tight dress wearing no underwear. And given that Hollywood is primarily how the USA, the most loudly, proudly self-created of nations, expresses itself to itself and to the rest of the world, by the man’s own bombastic standards it’s only a slight exaggeration to suggest that America, between the years of 1985 and 1995, was written by Joe Eszterhas.

But for all the dominance he exerted, the rules he rewrote and the sheer money he made, examining Eszterhas’ heyday today feels like an act of paleontology, even for those of us who lived through it. 1992 is not so very distant; in a variety of ways it is still with us. It was the year Quentin Tarantino, whose latest film is in theaters right now, broke out with his first, Reservoir Dogs. It was the year the current loathsome, racist, tinpot President of the United States made a cameo appearance in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, back when he was merely a loathsome, racist, tinpot property tycoon. It was the year that the number one box office spot was taken by Disney’s animated Aladdin, which felt close enough in time that the live-action remake which—and I’ve checked my notes on this, apparently was a thing that happened to us in 2019—felt entirely too soon.

But it was also the year of Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct, the sine qua non of Eszterhas-penned films. And if Sharon Stone’s lascivious leg-cross (Verhoeven’s invention, incidentally, not Eszterhas’) provided posterity with the most iconic upskirt of a blonde in a white dress since Marilyn Monroe’s encounter with a subway grate, that is largely all that remains to us of it today. Well, that and the instantly forgotten sequel (sans Eszterhasian involvement) that already seemed wildly anachronistic in 2006. The original film, its writer, the erotic thriller genre it exemplified, the dunderheaded sexual politics it upheld while attempting to subvert, the whole idea of a mainstream screenwriter having a brand at all (even one as loosely defined as “writer of films you don’t tell your parents you snuck into”), all seem like ancient relics. These are the artifacts not only of a bygone age but of an extinct genus, a whole evolutionary branch that was nipped in the bud so comprehensively that even now scientists might argue over how closely the skeletons of certain bird species resemble the bones of Basic Instinct.

This containment, however, is what makes looking back at the Eszterhas era so fascinating. His brief Hollywood hegemony is a microcosmic event in cinematic history, one with a beginning, middle, and an end (barring some late-breaking epilogue, or a post fade-to-black pan down to an ice pick under the bed). And it didn’t start with his first produced screenplay, for the leaden Sylvester Stallone truckers-union drama F.I.S.T. (Norman Jewison, 1978), although the glimmer of future feats of financial alchemy was already present in the reported $400,000 he received for the novelization. Dawn really broke for Eszterhas, as it did for three of the only other people who could legitimately be termed his peers as purveyors of massively popular, high-concept, low-brow ‘80s sensationalism (producers Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer, director Adrian Lyne), with 1983’s Flashdance.

It was an improbable success, less a film than an aerobics video occasionally interrupted by some awkward sassy banter and Jennifer Beals’ popping-flashbulb smile. Its vanishingly thin story, which Eszterhas co-wrote, is of an 18-year-old welder in a steel mill, who moonlights as an exotic dancer while aspiring to become a ballerina—a logline that sounds like a hoot of derision even as an unadorned description—and is full of Eszterhasian hallmarks. There’s the high degree of preposterousness. There’s the gym scene, during which the ladies of the cast grimace and lift weights in full makeup, and while here the frictionless unreality of Lyne’s TV-commerical aesthetic makes the sequence abstract, the peculiar faith in the erotic potential of a workout would recur in the squash sequence in Jagged Edge (Richard Marqund, 1985) and the ludicrous gym date in Sliver (Phillip Noyce, 1993).

And Flashdance also prefigures almost the entire Eszterhas oeuvre in being a story that centers on a woman’s experience and that laudably—if here laughably—positions her career ambitions as at least equal to her romantic aspirations in the mechanism of the plot. But, as elsewhere, it’s a view of women constructed by a proudly unreconstructed man, directed and photographed by men. (Eszterhas’ hard-drinking, womanizing, hellraising, Hunter S. Thompson-of-the-movies persona is enjoyably self-mythologized in his memoir Hollywood Animal.) If anything, what comes across most strongly in Eszterhas’ conception of a “strong woman” is his bafflement when tasked with imagining what such a woman might have going on inside her brain. His filmography may be full of female-fronted titles, and may contain the most famous mons venus in film history, but most of Eszterhas’ work could not be more male gaze-y f it were written from the point of view of an actual phallus, like the closing chapter of his 2000 book American Rhapsody, which is narrated by Bill Clinton's penis, Willard (I am not making this up).

This powerfully eroticized dissociation, this sexualized incomprehension of women as people with interior lives, is the animating idea behind the most Eszterhasian of Eszterhas scripts. But it’s a blank space in which directors, and especially actresses, could sometimes find room to create for themselves. Sharon Stone is genuinely, in-on-the-joke fantastic in Basic Instinct—who else could have delivered “What are you going to do, charge me with smoking?” as if it were an unreturnable Wildean riposte? Costa-Gavras’ Music Box (1989) is by some distance the sturdiest and least dated of Eszterhas movies, a lot due to its comparative sexlessness, but also because of a great, warm, real performance from an Oscar-nominated Jessica Lange. Debra Winger just about wins out in her more thankless role in Costa-Gavras’ first Eszterhas collaboration, Betrayed (1988). And Glenn Close imbues the heroine of the superior thriller Jagged Edge with such shrewdness that it’s almost a liability to the believability of the central deception.

But live by the sword, die by the sword, and when the director/actress combo fails to operate in similar sympathy we get Stone horribly miscast as a… sexy wallflower?… in Sliver, or Linda Fiorentino visibly flailing as a… downtrodden femme fatale?… in Jade, or poor Elizabeth Berkley thrashing wildly about in the neon-lit swimming pool of kitsch that is Showgirls. In these failures, the writer’s almost panicky vision of women as vast, dangerous cognitive black holes is best revealed. But then, mistrust of the opposite sex is only one aspect of the wider mystery that underpins even Eszterhas’ outlier titles: his entire output is preoccupied with how little any of us can ever know anyone.

In Eszterhas’ semi-autobiographical Telling Lies In America (Guy Ferland, 1997), a teenage Hungarian immigrant (Brad Renfro) is dazzled by Kevin Bacon's smooth-talking DJ, but blindly unable to work out if he is friend or fiend. Music Box details a lawyer’s dawning disillusionment over her adored father's murderous past—eerily mirroring Eszterhas’ discovery of his own father’s collaboration with the Hungarian Nazi regime. Betrayed has Winger’s FBI agent falling for Tom Berenger’s farmer only to discover he is, in fact, the neo-Nazi she insisted to her bosses he was not, in similar vein to Jagged Edge, in which Close’s lawyer discovers that the lover she successfully defended actually dunnit after all.

Oftentimes, the credulity-stretching ambivalence of these characters is all that powers the suspense, as in the is-she-gonna-kill-him-or-is-she-just-orgasming moments in Basic Instinct. In the misbegotten Nowhere to Run (Robert Harmon, 1993) Jean-Claude Van Damme plays a ruthless ex-con turned valiant protector, his blockish inertia apparently meant to signal that inner ambiguity. More often, it leads to final-act fake-out twists so unmoored to anything like recognizable motivation that they become weirdly weightless, as in Sliver when Stone’s Carly does not know if she’s killed the right man until the final four seconds of the film, and where, had the coin-flip gone the other way, it would still be equally (un)believable.

If it’s part of the egotistical remit of the writer to believe they have an insight into human psychology, it’s remarkable how much of Eszterhas’ oeuvre pivots around how fundamentally unknowable people are to one another. And while that schtick, by which you can’t tell if someone cares for you or is simply a talented sociopathic mimic, resonated briefly at the exact moment when the grasping, solipsistic ‘80s were segueing into the untrustworthy, PR-managed ‘90s, it proved not to have much long-game sustain. Critics had always been sniffy about Eszterhas, who clearly mopped up his tears with massive wads of 100 dollar bills. But when audiences started staying away, like in the Showgirls and Jade-blighted annus horribilis of 1995, the inflationary bubble that allowed Eszterhas to command millions for two-page outlines scribbled, one suspects, on the back of strip club napkins, abruptly burst. The idea of screenwriter-as-auteur, or rather as reliable bellwether of commercial success, proved a fallacy, an expensive experiment that began and ended with Joe Eszterhas, its earliest progenitor, luckiest beneficiary, and biggest casualty.

Glossy, vacuous, adult-themed thrillers were not the only thing going on in Hollywood, and Eszterhas was not the only big-name screenwriter. Shane Black, writer of Lethal Weapon, also commanded astronomical sums for his early ‘90s scripts, but the key difference is that Black wrote in the register of the franchise-able action-spectacular blockbuster that would eventually trounce all others as the Hollywood model for the future. Black has gone on to become part of the Marvel machine as a writer and director, while aside from one Hungarian-language period film, Children of Glory (Krisztina Goda, 2006), Eszterhas’ contribution to the pop cultural landscape post-2000 has been in the form of self-aggrandizing memoirs, or highly public fallings-out with celebrities, like Mel Gibson, of a similarly corked vintage.

The tastemaker point of view has historically been to consider Eszterhas among the worst things that ever happened to Hollywood—so much so that disdain-dripping sarcasm seems to be the fallback for critics summarizing his impact. But while no one is going to make the case for the man’s filmography as some sort of artistic landmark, the Eszterhas era did represent one of the last gasps of a Hollywood that believed, however misguidedly, in personality over product, when the idiosyncrasies, idiocies and ideologies of a single person—a writer at that—could, with studio backing and a 1,500 theater release strategy, influence the cinematic development of an entire generation. That might not have seemed like a good thing but retrospect, like cocaine, is a helluva drug and in 2019, with blandly anonymous, market-tested content churned out by mega-corporations bi-weekly to siphon your hard-earneds away, the kind of salacious tackiness Eszterhas represented feels oddly adorable, even quaint. Now that singular talents—even the obnoxious and objectionable ones—who could make decent returns on mid-budget, adult-oriented mainstream fare, have been steamrollered by infantilizing, monolithic billion-dollar mega-franchises, it’s hard not to be a little nostalgic for the vanished hiccup of time when Hollywood briefly uncrossed its legs for Joe Eszterhas, and Joe Eszterhas told us all what he saw.

[hollyoaksloversx]

Breda in Bother...

Rounding up a week in Hollyoaks (21st-25th October 2019)

It was the week where Breda’s odd behaviour finally caught up with her and saw her confess to murder! With Breda still making frequent trips to the pig farm, Goldie began to get suspicious, especially when she realised that her Mother had failed to put the farm on the market like they’d agreed. Things came to a head when Sylver and Goldie caught Breda sneaking out of the flat with a load of food and Goldie demanded that her Mother see a psychiatrist. Enraged at the idea, Breda stormed off to see Tony and ranted at the very idea of speaking to a professional. However, when Tony pointed out that it could be the only way of getting her family off her back, she agreed to see someone. However, things went badly wrong for Breda at the appointment when she ended up revealing far more than she planned to, and the psychiatrist told Goldie and Sylver how concerned she was for their Mother...

With the family worrying that Breda could have dementia, Goldie refused to let her leave the house alone, which was very bad news for both Breda and Tony. When Breda kept trying to escape, Goldie fitted her car with a tracker, and was later furious to learn that her Mother had gone back to the pig farm. Goldie decided to follow her, and was horrified when she discovered Harry’s blood stained wallet in a bin on the farm. With Goldie wanting to alert the police, Breda knew that she had to come clean, and she admitted to her daughter that she thought she’d murdered Harry. Playing up to the psychiatrist’s concerns, Breda put on the performance of a lifetime as she claimed to have killed Harry, believing him to be her late Father...

Meanwhile, there was a shock for Diane when Tony’s estranged Father, Edward, arrived on the doorstep, completely out of the blue. Despite Diane initially sending him packing, Edward refused to give up, and told Diane that he wanted to help in Tony’s absence. Cindy was impressed when Edward managed to sort out her bird problem, and convinced Diane to give him a chance. Diane relented, and Edward was welcomed into the family by everyone but Finn, who was suspicious about his motives for turning up. Realising that Diane could do with a break, plus some adult company, Edward arranged for Leela to have the kids, and then invited Cindy, Mandy, Nancy and Darren round, who were just as impressed by him as Diane had been. But this is Hollyoaks, and it’s surely only a matter of time before he’s revealed as a psycho...

Elsewhere, Brooke and Ollie had their first meeting to discuss the adoption, but it was clear that Ollie was having second thoughts, especially when he discovered that the baby could be placed 100s of miles away and any contact would be at the discretion of the new parents. Not wanting to completely give up the baby, or Brooke, Ollie suggested that Brody and Sienna become the adoptive parents, that way he and Brooke could still be in the baby’s life. Brody and Sienna agreed to give it some consideration, but it soon became clear that they would face opposition from Luke, who was determined that his first grandchild should remain with the family. Luke and Ollie argued over the situation, leading to Luke falling off the wagon again. Cindy discovered Luke in a terrible state the following day and tried to get him sobered up before anyone could see him. However, Ollie walked in and was shocked to see that his Dad was drinking again. Luke decided to take some time out from the village, but was stopped in his tracks when Ollie decided to tell him that he was DJ’s Father...

Finally, determined to get her ‘Cunningham’s Grande Bizarre’ off the ground, Cindy called in the services of Woody, who at first glances, appears to fit the very definition of cowboy builder. The pair headed down to the tunnels below the village, and Woody informed Cindy that she would need a structural survey done to make sure the tunnels were safe to build on. Realising this would delay her plans, not to mention interfere with next week’s stunt, Cindy tried to convince Woody to go ahead with the building work anyway, not realising that Charlie had found his way into the tunnels and could hear everything. The following day, Tom was concerned to discover that £30000 of his money was missing. Charlie told Tom what he’d overheard in the tunnels, but Tom refused to believe that his sister could be so reckless with health and safety. However, after speaking with Woody, Tom was furious to realise that Cindy had bribed him to start building without the necessary checks.

5 Things We Learned This Week:

1. Furthering the plot is more important than actual logic. Breda, there are such things as shops. Why not just buy food for Tony rather than smuggling it out of the house and risking your family catching you? Oh, yeah. Because the show need your family to believe you’re losing your marbles! Silly me!

2. According to Breda, a storm is coming. No, Breda. That was last year. I think you’ll find a crane is coming...

3. A poor diet is the biggest cause of hospital admission, according to Edward. I thought it was merely living in Hollyoaks village that was most likely to land you in hospital?

4. Edward has a severe lack of respect for his Grandchildren’s school teachers. What kind of monster fills three kids up on cake before sending them into school?

5. Woody is so relatable. I don’t like to miss the final chase either...

This Week’s Cast:

Anthony, Breda, Brody, Charlie, Cindy, Cleo, Darren, Dee Dee, Diane, DJ, Edward, Finn, Goldie, Imran, Jack, Joel, Liberty, Luke, Mandy, Marnie, Nana McQueen, Nancy, Oliver, Rose, Sally, Sienna, Sylver, Tom, Tony and Woody.

Blasts From The Past:

Nico Blake, Sebastian Blake, Sophie Blake, Victoria Hutchinson, Carmina McQueen, Hunter McQueen, Prince McQueen, Alfie Nightingale, Ellie Nightingale, Nathan Nightingale, Jill Osborne, Harry Thompson, Tessie Thompson.

[elgblimited]

3 Days 2 Go

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[thepresspodcast]

Week 6 @ Cleveland

The Press w/ Chris[tian] and Spense[r] Week 6 - @ Cleveland 

By the skin of their teeth, Seattle escaped prime time with a victory fit for neon green, an outfit choice which was one of many bad decisions made in this most recent Seahawks game. I’m still irate over Pete’s choice to kick a field goal at the end of the first half, leading to an eventual 7 points the other way, but man, talk about a game for the ages. I’m not sure which was better between Wilson’s throw or Lockett’s catch, but you can’t forget a redemption-worthy interception from Tedric Thompson or a legendary next-man-up battle between Aaron Donald and Jamarco Jones, filling in for the hurt DJ Fluker. And we’ll need to see more of that from him, maybe more than any other solid performance from these guys, because although Seattle handily took care of Arizona on the road before this, we find ourselves in a perilous position with a decimated offensive line going into a trap game on the road against the Browns. Duane Brown will be out. Ethan Pocic just hit the IR. Fluker isn’t 100% yet. While Clowney has looked better every week, and Ansah is hopefully ready to go from here on out, we’re starting to see the short-term problems that could become long-term if this game looks similar to the one at home vs. the Saints. In the episode preceding that one, I mentioned Drew Brees’ comments on momentum, how to gain it back when you don’t have it, how to keep it, and what it does for a team looking to win. Seattle never had enough momentum or time in that home game, and the Browns never had any in San Francisco. However, if anything, the way momentum carries itself through an individual game is directly inverse to the way it carries itself on a week-to-week basis. Right now, every team is looking to shock the world with an upset against the Patriots--sure, the Patriots are an elite team, but everyone knows that, and prepares as such. No matter what anyone says, nobody prepares for a game against the Dolphins with that same mentality (except, you guessed it--the Patriots). 

The Browns were expected to be good this season, maybe even great, with the playoffs almost expected after big acquisitions in Odell Beckham Jr. and the rookie Greedy Williams among others. Things have not gone their way, and after virtually opposite prime time performances, the Browns are backed into a corner. Sure, the Steelers have all but collapsed, the Bengals are winless, and the Ravens have nosedived after an impressive 2-0 start (with one loss coming at the hands of Baker and the Browns), but the Browns know this might be one loss they can’t come back from. On the other side--Seattle is looking great offensively, passable on defense, and comfortable at 4-1 after beating the Rams for the first time in what feels like forever. You would like to believe that an undefeated 49er team would keep these guys hungry, on edge, and bitter over what might turn into being passed over in the eyes of the league and media as a team regaining their division for the Sherman-led San Francisco squad. And there are worse trap games to lose--an out of conference game with a depleted offensive line isn’t bizarre to lose, and it’s preferable to a lot of other games on the schedule. But right now is the time to press harder on the gas pedal, not let up. It doesn’t matter who wins this weekend’s game between the Rams and 49ers so long as Seattle takes care of business against a very talented Cleveland team. Their coach might make questionable decisions, but Nick Chubb is just as versatile as Alvin Kamara, and if one mistake turns into three, and Seattle finds themselves playing from behind for most of the game, don’t be surprised if they leave 4-2. It can happen. Maybe we should say it enough times for the team to hear us just so they prepare better? Cleveland has their own injuries to deal with as well at the cornerback position, but that won’t matter much if Seattle plays sloppy. Much like in the Saints game, our mistakes eventually will come back to bite us; it’s time to stop making them. 

I see the ‘Hawks taking care of business this week. Chris Carson will score first with a big, physical goal line carry while Clowney will continue to show Houston made a mistake in letting him essentially walk with an early sack. Seattle wins 38-23. 

From there, we will be 5-1, and I’m anticipating being 6-2 after this second quarter of the season, with a tough home loss against the Ravens and a bounce-back road win against the Falcons. We always have their number in the regular season...let’s be thankful they no longer look like a playoff team. Jarran Reed will soon be back, and hopefully Seattle will be healthy offensively just in time to handle the mysterious Bucs and the dangerous 49ers before our bye. 

Japan has made it difficult to get into the recording studio with Spense--so we’ve got our first article of the season. Hopefully he figures it out. -C 

- - - 

The Seahawks are 4-1 after a thrilling (terrifying, horrendous, amazing, joyful) victory over the Rams. The defense is streaky, Russell is having his best season to date (so-far), and similar to the meetings last year, it was a close hard fought game. 

As good as the Hawks felt last week, the Browns felt equally the opposite. They had a terrible primetime performance, and their season is quickly becoming on the line. They already have three losses, and play the Seahawks and Patriots the next two weeks. In this sense, this has the makings of a very difficult game, as the Hawks will be playing against a talented Browns team, who can’t afford many more hiccups. Will the Browns come together and look like a playoff caliber team? Or will the Browns look laugh out loud Brownsish? This isn’t a game the Seahawks can lose in the first quarter, but it is a game they can win. These Cleveland Browns will tap out if you press them, they will fold, they will run, and they will lose. 

This is a game where I want the Seahawks to have the ball first. I want the ball, I want some tempo, I want a couple 4-5yd passes, and I want to get things moving. This game is there for the taking for the Seahawks, but as Chris mentioned, they can’t make dumb mistakes early, that feed the Browns and their fans. Stomp on the throat quick, make them earn it, and if the past few weeks results continue—the Hawks will win. This is a game where the Hawks have to attack their corners, and I think we’ll see 10 different Seahawks have receptions. Jaron Brown will score first, Bobby with the sack (I expect four sacks on Mayfield in this game, with one being a strip-sack), and the Hawks will win 38-17. The Seahawks will then go onto win at home next week vs. Baltimore, win in at Atlanta, and lose against the Buccaneers to be 7-2.

[fernlom]

Complete List of My Characters: With Snippits **EDITED**

Hood- Johnathan Satlin, the universe Guardian. Lazy, married to Liz Wright

Liz Wright- Wife to Hood, ultimate Mom with a control over fire and a ghost body guard

Aaron Nitishino- Number 42, The God Killer, adorably fluffy, married to Beth Wright

Beth Wright: Aaron’s wife, will kick your ass, adorable with a kind personality. Will gladly fight for her husband

Tiggs Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. 9 foot tall black and silver four armed tiger man. Total mad scientist.

Jasmine Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. Shapeshifter, lynx lady, pan, will stab you and flirt with you in the same minute

Pinstripe: Mafia Hit man possessed by ancient assassin god

Sheriff Waters: wild west sherriff and time displaced Pinstripe.

Sheriff McCreed: immortal western zombie sheriff, total nonchalant asshole.

Deputy Colt 45: super futuristic robot sent to the wild west. Deputy to Waters and McCreed.

Guilty’s Gang: Guilty, Thomas Ralz the pianist, and old man Joe the banjoist. And their swamp monster.

Scorpio: bandito given powers by the zodiac spirit scorpio,

Cheif Kitchi: Blackfoot indian chief.

Vessal: bronze golum, protecter of Kitchi’s tribe, host to hundreds of warrior spirits.

Argon and Neon: nova kids trapped in the Wildwest, brother and sister.

Nobilis Krypton: Anodyne, roman themed, trapped in wildwest with Argon and Neon

Stephan and Justin Wright: Little Brothers to Hood and Aaron respectively. Adopted by Tracey Wright and Hail Tartalgia. The bridges to the multiverse. Cinnamon roll and sin-namon rolls.

Tracey Wright: Hail’s wife and the mother to Justin and Stephan, tired of everyone’s shit and the power over darkness.

Hail Tartalgia: Second Youngest of the Tartalgia family. Shy, ice powers, twin brother to Zana, cinnamon roll. Married to Tracey Wright.

Lightening Tartalgia: youngest Tartalgia, power over energy, super speed. Energetic, outgoing, friendly.

Fog Tartalgia: Middle child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Storm. Power over all gasses and vapors. Quiet, kind, wise.

Storm Tartalgia: Middle Child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Fog. Power over weather. Loud, arrogant, secretly a cinnamon roll.

Kujo: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Zoey. Blunt, dry, helpful. Can know everything about an item  by touching it, and will know expertly how to use it.

Zana: Second youngest of Tartalgia family, twin sister to Hail, power over water and liquids, equally as shy as Hail if not more so.

Zoey: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin sister of Kujo, control over plants and animals. Mischievous and naughty, but still someone to trust.

Hero: eldest of Tartalgia family. Power of adapting to any situation (nearly infinite powers). Outgoing, positive, conceited, loves himself.

Pops: Possibly immortal old man, Looks like 60, but is as healthy as a 30 year old. Street brawler, travels with Launa.

Launa Dandies: Descendant of Waters. Can’t be harmed. Sociopath, angry at everything.

Taurus: Minotaur like being, greatest enemy is Hood, wants to envelop the world in eternal night.

Number43: almost clone of Aaron. An attempt to repeat the success that is Aaron in making ultimate weapon.

Grave Digger: older than time, is death, grim reaper, and the grave all at once. Always drinking.

Arnold: The Graveyard Cat. Zombie cat with the power of decay. Experiment of 100 Project

Ronny: The hellhound, control over darkness and fire. Experiment of 100 project

Damian: Giant Golden Flying Fox, A big ass fruit bat. Kind, gentle, not sure where he is. Clings to Digger

Marty: a mothman, silent, thinking, will fight you.

Vet: time traveling immortal redneck doctor getting into shenanigans

Uncle Sam: ultra patriotic American bald eagle robot. Made by vet

DJ Giz: super sleek robot covered in speakers. Makes noise. Made by vet

Livewire: robot with tendrils coming from his back. not made by vet but saved by him

SARAH: vets body guard. Ultimate fighting robot girl. Very curious about the world and open to learn.

Leao: Wizard cat!

Farmer John Stidham: first of Shattered Six, hard working, blunt farmer

Don Lomas: Second of Shattered Six, mob boss, mysterious, dangerous.

Poindexter Carter: third of Shattered Six, genius, scientist, nerd

Smiley Joe Stidham: fourth of Shattered Six, mixer, dancer, happy.

Dr Dean Lomas: fifth of Shattered Six, doctor, muscular, pretty boy

Agent Carter: Sixth of Shattered Six, agent, fighter, dangerous.

The Fivefold: The Pastor, Prophet, Evangelist, Teacher, and Apostle.

The Big Three: The three who made everything, Austin, Chance, and Fernando.

Curly Satlin: Giant lumberjack with bigger afro. Works for Don and Brigitta Vigarin.

Kristopher Krins: towns person of Keypers Cove, might be santa, definitely Santa, necklace is two candy canes which he uses when fighting.

Galve: flaming skeleton goat man in a robe, comes out from November to February.

Sir Issac Wells: real name of Johnny Rockers. Large bulky man, from Arkansas, used some enhanced cocaine, permanent other personality emerged, sophisticated man of class, still an absolute psychopathic serial killer.

Mr. Hicks: Henry Hicks, CEO of large tech company, travels the world joining fighting tournaments, boxer.

Lord Harlston: Victorian era gentlemen revived as a half plant, half zombie, very kind and polite. Hates rude un-gentlemanly people.

Pedro Gonzalez: former CEO, current Hero of Mexico, very strong boxer, rival to Mr. Hicks.

The Matador: Alfonzo Rivera, fighter, uses a sword and two bull fighting spears.

Wechidna: Immortal butler and warrior, butler to Mr. Hicks, neighbor to Tracey Wright.

Ashura: Ghost of formally immortal warrior, bonded to Liz Wright

Foxcrest: perfect maid

Wolfthorn: perfect Butler

Hawkridge: Perfect butler,

Ursa: Tigg’s main maid. Super strong

Lea: Tiggs’ main gardener. Mastered every last known martial art

Shaun-Li: Tigg’s cheff, poison touch.

Pastor Smith and Juddeep: World traveling Southern Pastor and his Saudi Arabian friend/ex-airport security guard.

Romulin: Son of Anubis, permanent rival to Uncle Sam

Valz: Greek titan of love, passion, erotic pleasure, and drinks.

Issac: Son of Hood, inherited all his powers.

Tommie: Daughter of Aaron, inherited all his powers (and looks)

Tedd: living teddy bear, adopted by Hood.

Ishmael: ancient warrior and shaman. Rival and big brother figure to Issac

The Mesh: large, jumbled robot, created by a deceased boy genius, roams the world looking for a new owner.

Abra: Alternate pinstripe, unknown female who’s theme is magician.

Ringmaster: Circus ringmaster with reality altering abilities

Chuckles: Alternate pinstripe, unknown female who’s theme is clown.

Ragdoll: Hood from a forgotten universe, a patchwork ragdoll like being of pure evil.

Snap: the alpha hood, the original who snapped upon seeing the multitude of various deaths.

Corruption: alternate Aaron. Put on Hood’s sweater, old programming resurfaced, Went crazy.

The Pinstripe Corps: multidimensional assassin group of alternate Pinstripe’s

The OFFKeys: a group of six musicians from Keypers Cove, each represents a different music genre

The entire town of Keypers Cove: hoh boy. Their necklaces has powers

Thunder and Zora Tartaliga: Parents of the Tartalgia Family and founders of Tartalgia.

Ultra42: Alternate Aaron, true ultimate weapon

Omega42: Zombie Ultra, mindless animal, afterwards a depressed former hero.

Aaron+: alternate aaron, controlled with nanites, killer.

Amalgam: an amalgamate of Pinstripe, Fatality, Legion, Patient Doe, Mr Thompson, Scorpio, from a computer world.

Scrap: all of Vet’s robots, mashed into one, torn to shreds by Aaron+ individually before reforming and killing him.

Virus: Vet’s true opposite. Body is home to every last disease, fungus, and bacteria in the universe, complete control over all disease.

Schism: the true embodiment of chaos and order. True equality. A god pretty much.

EL: The elemental. Splits into six main elements, Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Machine, Nature, Light and Dark. Then they fuse into four sub elements. Fire and Water make Energy. Air and Earth make Decay. Nature and Machine make Time. And Light and Dark make order. Then they fuse to make two. Time and Decay make Death. Order and Energy make life. El, the final fusion, is the element of Humanity

Error53: a mix of science and magic, a demonic computer virus.

El guillao: Puerto Rican Gansgter, uses soul flame and machetes.

Fatality: embodiment of fear, true monster.

Legion: former youth pastor turned host to millions of demons.

Train Man: Wildwest Zombie, enforcer of death, rounds up souls Digger doesn’t feel like finding.

Dr. Isotope: former Cold War Scientist, imbued with the power of ten atoms bombs

Xalarn: flaming spikey skeleton man, makes more flaming skeletons for army.

Damian Weaver: form an alternate universe, survivor of zombie apocalypse. Thinks he is edgy, is not edgy,

Justin Carter: from the same forgotten world as Ragdoll. Another patchwork ragdoll man, with a flaming chainsaw for a hand, a hero.

Patient Doe: unknown. A patchwork person trying to make themselves the perfect body, might be alien, no facts known.

Mr. Thompson: really friendly serial killer, animals love him, everyone loves him, everyone knows hes a killer too.

Silver Heart: given a robotic heart that replaces all damaged parts with robotics.

Bob: robot from the future meant to be sent to 1950’s America. Sent to modern America. Typical 1950’s dad but is actually killer liquid metal robot.

Rex: very large man with brain of hyper intelligent dog. Loyal, works with a pirate, but always dressed in a suit.

Leon: demon lion man. Crazy, violent, evil

Captain Longbeard and Shiv: Pirates. Longbeard is very intelligent, pilots a ship from the far future, Shiv is his malfunctioning robot fighter/first mate.  

Clove: Skeleton Wildwest gun for hire. Known as the Gunslinger.

Beryl and Obsidian: Gem people. Servants for the Gods.

DOTcom: a program and nanite cloud created by Vet, pilots his TAURTOS.

Talli and Mingan: Talli cant die, Mingan is his giant grey dire wolf who is the real brains of the duo.

Blachidna: Alternate version of Wechidna, evil, arrogant, ruler of planet of factories.

Employee18: leader of worker revolution against Blachinda, favorite weapon :picaxe

Ashuraos: alternate Ashura, driven mad with power, being of pure chaos, body is half liquid energy

The Lounge Singers: 1920′s era smokey ball room band, actually hitmen, Ricky, Big Al, Betty, and Li.

Lukas Muler: Swiss cowboy living in Treasure Canyon. Earth bending powers, loves rocks.

Kopano Pillay: South African mercenary, true soldier, gun for hire.

Malware: a corrupted, computer virus infected Justin, wants to recreate his family using the glitches.

Trojan: a corrupted, computer virus infected Stephan. Wants to make Justin fix their world then kill him, willing to destroy whatever stands in his way.

The Televnagelist: former big name preacher turned serial killer.

The FRESHfold: the fivefold, but Fresh.

Vetster: Vet and Gaster merged together.

Aroodamate: Hood and Aaron, amalgamated

Civilian: mysterious unknown vigilante, no powers.

Galaxes: angelic being made of red space dust and stars, watcher of the world

The Four Angels: A Roman Centurion, a Holy Knight, A Western Sheriff, and a US WWII Soldier. Angels, and patron guardians of The Fivefold

El Monstruo: Mexican Super Villain, villain to Pedro Gonzalez. Basic super powers of super strength and speed. Only wants to bring Mexico to World power status, going about it very wrong.

Cowl: Underfell Aaron

Cloak: Underfell Hood

Charger/Camaro/Mustang: super soldiers made by Group 100 project, large, strong, hate Aaron.

Moses Shamalyan: the Great Devastator, Aaron’s rival, dog man.

Golgatha: parasite, cannibal, mercenary, master chef.

Y’All: parasite that turns people into hillbilly’s

Thomas Burgens: crazed pizza place owner with an army of killers and animatronic suit.

Retro: pixelated knight traveling the world

Fenrif: Old Norse God living as a cowboy in Montana

Mabel Brown: wizard cowgirl, alchemizes her own bullets, each being a different spells.

Rodrick Black: magician, bank robber. Enemy of Hood. Possible real magic? unconfirmed.

Gabriel: angel made of rusted scrap metal, joins Retro on his adventures.

Agent Tell: Government agent infected by alien millipede parasite. Covered in spikes, has flame thrower.

Agarom: former hero, turned demon, back to hero.

LUCAS: comes from the same world as Retro. A humanoid figure made from a random assortment of different sized and colored pixels. Friendly, wants to help.

Emmanuel Rodriguez: Mexican assassin with an affinity for throwing knives.

The Untracables: Robert Gonzales and Shaun Findly, hitman contractor and loser turned killer duo.

Vinny: a business man infected by a parasitic lily that has taken over his body with vines.

Ausham: ego of darkness, creativity, and passion

Chanter: ego of emotions, morality, and love

Eclecious: ego of logic, spirituality, and intelligence

Parsure: ego of depression, anxiety, and writers block

Glossy: ego of encouragement, ambition, and responsibilities

Blake: ego of neutrality, boredom, and disinterest.

Cole: ego of mischief, rage, and hatred

Dull; ego of distraction, absent mindedness, and randomness

Author: ego of humor, nostalgia, and regret.

Buddy Lilly: Ego of music, talents, and boldness

Staliel: Ferns Guardian Angel. Nervous train wreck

JM Drew: former cartoon studio owner turned inky psychopath

Dr Alexander: former life of Ausham, dangerous surgeon and assassin

Chanzer: a twisted corrupted Chanter

Plush: a felt plush filled apex predator

Ratio: TV head in charge of directing messages and asks to the egos and other characters.

Publisher: anthropomorphic cat man made of stars and darkness, lives in the thrift shop.

Officer Lupe Rodriguez: a normal lapd officer who has an instant healing factor making her invincible.

Oasis: a being made of sand that wanders the Mojave desert.

Glitch Angel: A humanoid being made of multicolored corrupted pixels with two large pixel wings.

Black Bishop: mysterious man in a black hooded robe with a staff shaped like a bishop chess peace that can pierce any material and summon minions made of that material. Actually an absolute dork.

Magra: bishops main general. Flaming jackolantern head on a titanium and gold body with vines, hot plasma, and liquid energy wrapped around his body. Also an absolute dork.

[nerdywrites]

The Summer Soldier (part 12)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Even though Tony fights to keep (Y/n) out of prison, Secretary Ross may not be let the matter be up for negotiation. Meanwhile, Midtown gets a huge surprise.

Warnings: Language

A/N: Anyone else excited for Far From Home?

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

It had been two months since (Y/n)’s accident, and the same amount of time since Tony told her she could go to a normal high school. Secretary Ross, however, wasn’t about to let her walk free out of the tower she had been locked in for the past two months.

(Y/n) had gotten used to overhearing the arguments between her dad and the Secretary of State, and they all consisted of the same thing. Just like today’s. 

She was currently hiding in the kitchen, wishing she had her suit to spy on the conversation a few floors below her. But since Ross controlled what she could and could not have access to, that wasn't a luxury she had at the moment. 

Her wrist felt empty without the red and gold bracelet she had worn since she got it.

Even without her tech, (Y/n) figured out that the vent in the kitchen allowed you to perfectly hear whatever was going on in the living room that sat directly below it. It was total a coincidence that Tony met Ross in the same room every time.

“Look, Ross, she’s a kid-”

“I don’t care how old she is, Stark! She broke the law, that’s that. Doctors have cleared her, and it’s time to-”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on the fact that you have no idea where the others are? Didn’t they all bust out? And besides, yes, the doctors have cleared her, but she still can’t walk! Not without help. All I’m asking is for you to just let her be normal and get away from all this Avenger stuff. She can’t fight anymore anyways.”

(Y/n) heard a deep sigh “Fine, she can go to school. But, we’ll be keeping a close eye on her, and the minute anything bad happens, we will send her straight to prison.”

(Y/n) couldn't help the smile that spread on her face, and it wouldn’t disappear for the next few days.

Tony walked up the stairs to see his daughter standing there looking as excited as ever, and threw his arms around her.

“I take it you heard that”

“Of course”

--

Peter Parker was doing sit-ups on an old gym mat as his best friend Ned wouldn’t stop asking him questions about his alter ego, Spider-Man, and even some about the Avengers.

Peter didn’t answer any of the questions, only telling him to be quiet so no one else heard. Then Ned started talking about being Peter’s “guy-in-the-chair.”

That’s when they heard Liz Allen’s conversation with her friends as the girl admitted she had a crush on Spider-Man. 

Ned couldn’t help it as he blurted out “Peter knows Spider-Man!”

The whole gym went silent and everyone stared as Peter looked at Ned, giving him a “what the fuck” look, and jumped to his feet to explain. “Uh, no, I don’t. I-I-I mean...”

“They’re friends” Ned went on “And (Y/n) Stark too.”

The gym went, if possible, more silent, and Peter’s neck became pink as he glared at his friend once more. No one could believe the (Y/n) Stark part. 

For one, she was one of the most famous teenagers in the world. How can you not be with a last name like Stark and the Avenger status? 

Second of all, no one had heard anything about her in the past few months, they hadn’t even seen her walking around the city. Most people assumed she had died in the famous fight at the airport. Others said that they would know if she was dead, and that she was probably locked up with the other Avengers who were also on Cap’s side.

Flash jumped down from the rope he was climbing “Yeah, like coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.”

“I-I-I've met them, yeah, couple times, but it’s um, through the Stark Internship.” he glanced back at his friend “Yeah, I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”

Flash kept walking toward Peter “Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite them to Liz’s party.”

Peter looked at Liz as she nodded her head “Yeah, um, I’m having people over tonight, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“Y-you’re having a party?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope” Flash answered for her “You should totally invite your personal friend, Spider-Man. And maybe (Y/n) Stark if she’s willing to be around you.”

“Well, party sounds fun, so thanks for the invite. I’ll be there. But based on how you seem to treat people, I’m going to guess that you’re the one no one is willing to be around.”

No one had noticed the door open, and no one had noticed someone walk in. But now, everyone looked in the direction of the voice, and saw none other than (Y/n) Stark standing there, looking like she normally did, aside from the metal cast-looking things on her legs that appeared to be helping her walk. 

“Oh my God” came a kid who was standing on the opposite side of the room, who no one turned to look at because their attention was still on the girl in front of them.

“Nice guess, but I’m just (Y/n)”

--

Tony was not jumping at the chance to let his daughter go to a high school party. He had been there once, he knew what happened, and he didn’t want her having any part in it. But, he promised her a somewhat normal, high school life. Parties were part of it.

So he gave the job of driving her to Happy, and watched the black car with tinted windows drive out to the streets of Manhattan, before he got on his plane and took off to another country.

--

When (Y/n) got to the party, she took a second to look around before stepping out of the car and slowly making her way up the steps. As she opened the front door, she watched as all faces turned to her, most with expressions of pure shock.

She was used to this, and it was easy to ignore, so she smiled at the people she passed by, and tried to find the one person she knew. Peter Parker.

As she was looking around, she unfortunately passed the DJ, who she didn’t see was Flash Thompson.

“Well, hello there. I didn’t think you’d show up, but I’m glad you did.” he had a flirty look on his face, but (Y/n) just responded with her own look of disgust. She could tell that Flash bullied Peter, and decided to take her chance.

“Well, Peter’s my best friend and he said it would be fun. I’m here for him. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” she saw his shocked face and pushed past him, not finishing her sentence, and continued look for Peter.

That’s when she saw Ned, who she hadn’t known about until recently, but he was Peter’s best friend.

“Hey, Ned”

His eyes grew wide “H-Hey, (Y/n)”

She gave him a warm smile “I like your hat”

“Thanks!” he seemed super excited, but then his expression grew more serious “Do you know where Peter is?”

“I was about to ask you that same question”

“He went out to-” Ned stopped short, not wanting to tell what Peter was actually going to do “Well, I don’t really know, but he didn’t come back. I’ve been calling him, but he isn’t answering.”

Now she was worried “Thanks Ned. I’m gonna go look for him.”

He nodded, and before she knew it she was out the door and walking down the street, out of the neighborhood. 

--

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