#to be giving their best political performance and acting like we SHOULD just SMACKS of respectability politics

[timeisacephalopod]

Admittedly I don't know much about the Israel Palestine war but I keep seeing news articles that refer to it as the Israel Hamas war and no it is not. After all Israel has done it gets to be referred to by it's country name and not "terrorists who kill babies and children at the speed of light" but Palestine gets reduced to Hamas?

It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth that the struggle of the Palestinian people keeps getting reduced to the existence of Hamas, but at no point does the ongoing state violence of Israel define its existence when by all means it should when my understanding is that the creation of Israel was stealing land from Palestinians. Why is Israel's violence ignored while Palestine is defined by the admittedly shit group that only arose out of decades of occupation and imperialism? Those two things are not the same and ignoring Israel's violence to act like Hamas came from nowhere just to hurt the poor Israeli government who acts like they've done nothing wrong is ridiculous to me.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Swedish Fish

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: at an awards show where you and Tom are nominated for a lot of awards together, you poke fun at the rumors about your relationship

Masterlist

“Hello!” A journalist greeted you and Tom as you approached her on the red carpet of a low stakes award show. “You two are looking amazing.”

“Thank you.” You beamed, feeling the excitement of the night settle in with your first interview.

“Thanks so much.” Tom nodded in appreciation as he rested his hand on your back.

“So you two are nominated for quite a few awards tonight. How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?” The journalist asked before holding her microphone out to the two of you.

“I’m really excited to be here. I’m more excited to be Y/n’s date, though. Look at her in this dress.” Tom stepped back so the camera could get a better look at your long red dress. “She’s better than any award.”

“Stop it. I don’t want to be flushed in the interviews.” You leaned against him as you briefly buried your face in his neck to hide your blush.

“Aw.” The journalist pouted at the camera. “So you two came here together?”

“We did. Almost all our nominations are together so it seemed like the right thing to do.” You explained as you kept one hand resting on Tom’s shoulder.

“That was my excuse for why I asked her.” Tom joked. “I really did it because I wanted to make everyone jealous that I had the prettiest date.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “He just wanted me as his date because he knows I bring snacks.”

“You brought snacks?” The journalist laughed into the microphone.

“I did.” You nodded excitedly. “I have like 6 types of candy in my bra. I have cookies and chocolate in my purse. You don’t even want to know where I’m hiding a granola bar.”

“I really want to know now.” The journalist raised her eyebrows at you.

“I’ll find out later and let you know.” Tom winked and you smacked him playfully.

“It’s the Nature Valley kind though so I’m scared to eat it.” You laughed. “They’re so crumbly.”

“Maybe you can step outside and eat it. Like a little snack break.” The journalist suggested.

“I could. I’ll do it during one of the boring speeches.” You joked.

“Who’s speech would you leave during?” The journalist asked you.

“Probably Tom’s.” You stated and he nodded along it humor you.

“Yeah. I tend to ramble.” He shrugged, making you laugh.

“Alright well I’ll let you guys get to the rest of the carpet.” The journalist said. “Thank you for chatting.”

“Thank you! Enjoy the night.” You waved goodbye to her as Tom picked up the train of your dress to make walking easier.

“She didn’t ask if we were a couple.” He whispered in your ear as you posed in front of the photographers.

“Are you upset that she didn’t?” You laughed as you looked at him.

“Frankly, I’m a little offended.” He said through a smile while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Don’t be. I’m sure we’ll get asked soon enough.” You told him. As far as the public was concerned, you and Tom were just friends. After being nominated for multiples joint awards for your performance as a couple in Far From Home, you had made a plan to tease the media if you won in an attempt to get them to stop asking if you were together.

“They better.” He grumbled in your ear before the both of you laughed.

He kept his hand on your back as you walked to the next journalist, the train of your dress in his other hand.

“Hi!” The journalist smiled happily at you as you stopped in front of him.

“Hello!” You matched his energy with a bright smile.

“Hey. How are you?” Tom asked politely.

“I’m doing well, thank you.” He nodded. “You two have quite a buzz around you tonight. Apparently you’re the couple to watch.”

“Any couple that’s half Tom Holland is a couple to watch. Haven’t you heard of Gyllenholland?” You raised an eyebrow and laughed.

“But that’s a bromance.” The journalist protested. “This seems more like a romance, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Unfortunately, we’re not together. There’s just something about me that he doesn’t like.” You sighed dramatically and looked away, making Tom and the journalist laugh.

“It’s the face. I can’t get past it.” Tom played along as he squished your cheeks between his fingers.

“So you’re really not a couple?” He asked as if he didn’t believe you. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Nope. Just friends.” You shook your head.

“Best friends.” Tom grinned at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You two are adorable.” The journalist commented. “And you’re nominated for a lot of awards together tonight, aren’t you?”

“We are. And that’s the way it should be. I think people enjoyed our movie as much as they did because of what we created together. It was a two person job and I’m glad it’s being acknowledged as such.” You answered honestly, making Tom’s heart soar.

“Not all of the nominations are for the both of us, though.” Tom brought up. “Y/n is nominated for best actress. And guess who’s presenting that award?” He smiled proudly.

“That’s right! Congratulations.” The journalist praised you.

“Thank you. I’m really grateful for all the nominations.”

“I’m so proud of her. I can’t wait to give you that award later.” Tom looked at you fondly.

“If I win.” You reminded him.

“Of course you’ll win.” He scoffed. “I voted for you everyday.”

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his shoulder momentarily to thank him for his support.

“So if you do win one of the joint awards, who gets to take it home?” The journalist asked you.

“We’ll just have to win them both I guess.” Tom shrugged playfully.

“I hope you do.” The journalist smiled. “I’ll see you guys out there. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Tom shook his hand before leading you towards the entrance of the building.

“Should we find our seats?” You asked him as you checked your lipstick in a compact mirror.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” He nodded before taking your hand and walking with you inside.

~

An hour later after a few performances and wards had been given out, it was time for you and Tom to present an award. You nervously chewed your bottom lip as you waited for your cue, going over your prepared speech in your head.

“You ready?” You whispered to Tom, sensing he was as nervous as you were.

“I’m never ready to read, especially not in front of thousands of people on live television.” He laughed nervously. You gave him an assuring smile as rubbed his back to calm him down.

“Hey, if you can’t make out a word, just squeeze my hand. I’ll help you out.” You told him. Tom smiled back and slipped his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We haven’t started yet.” You laughed at his action.

“I know.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

Before you could respond, a man with a headset came up to you and gave you a thumbs up.

“You’re on in three, two…”

“Hello everyone. We are here to present the nominees for best actor in a horror film.” Tom announced into his microphone. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see any of these films because the ticket guy always thought I was a child.” He feigned a sad face, making the audience laugh. Their positive response calmed your nerves as you held your own microphone up.

“But don’t worry. I made sure I explained the plot to him once I got home.” You added.

“Only two of them made me wet the bed.” Tom read off the prompter, one of the lines he and you hadn’t written yourself. He made a face that you couldn’t help but laugh at, calming you even further.

“I can’t believe you read that line.” You laughed into your mic.

“I know. Who wrote that?” He wondered and the audience laughed along.

“Tonight, Tom and I are nominated for Best Onscreen Couple.” You continued. “Our chemistry on screen has left a lot of people wondering if we’re a dating in real life. We’re not, by the way.”

Tom was quiet for a moment as he blinked in confusion, hesitantly raising his microphone to his lips.

“We’re not?” He asked you as if this was the first he was hearing of it. It wasn’t, of course, as you had rehearsed this many times. Your face fell just like your practiced as the crowd laughed.

“No, we’re not.” You answered him flatly.

“I just - I thought we were.” His eyes darted around as he played dumb.

“Tom. We talked about this.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“But…but we make out all the time.” He said and the audience erupted with laughter. “Like what about that time in your trailer?”

“That was strictly platonic.” You shrugged.

“And in the elevator?” He asked.

“You had something stuck in your teeth. I was just being a good friend and getting it out.” You smiled smugly as you looked out at the crowd.

“All those times in my car?” He emphasized, making even you laugh.

“I was method acting.” You said simply.

“But - but it was months after production wrapped.” He reminded you, earning some applause as the audience caught on to what you were doing.

“I like to get really deep.” You insisted.

“Oh.” Tom looked at the floor for a moment before snapping into a smile. “And here are tonight’s nominees.”

You paused and let the audience laugh at your bit before reading the nominees off the prompter. Tom put his hand on your back, making you look at him. You smiled widely at your successful joke and he smiled back before taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.

~

You were sitting in your seats once again, impatiently waiting for the first category you were nominated for to be announced.

“I’m kinda nervous.” Tom leaned over to whisper in your ear among the buzz of the crowd.

“Would bra candy make it better?” You chuckled as you pulled a small Swedish Fish out of your décolletage.

“Has this been on your bare body?” He laughed in disbelief as he took the candy.

“Maybe?” You said sheepishly, looking around for anyone who might overhear.

“I can’t stand you.” His whole body shook with laughter as he popped it in his mouth. “It tastes like how your perfume smells.”

“Really?” You grimaced. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Me either.” He sucked it out of his teeth. “Can I have another piece?”

You shoved his playfully for the bad joke before fishing another out for him.

“Here.” You placed it in the palm of his hands. “Wait, shhh! They’re announcing the winners.”

“This is really chewy.” Tom commented ad he struggled the swallow the candy. You ignored his problem as you excitedly gripped his arm. He continued chewing but managed to slip his hand into yours and clutch it anxiously as the nominees were read.

“And the winners for best onscreen kiss are…Tom Holland and Y/n L/n in Spiderman: Far From Home.”

The audience erupted into applause for the two of you, but all you could hear was Toms incessant chewing.

“Stop chewing. We gotta go.” You giggled as you pulled him out of his seat.

“Mhhhfh hmhph.” He said through a mouthful as he pulled you into a celebratory hug. You held hands on the way up to the podium as the infamous kiss played on the enormous screen. You hugged the presenter before standing in front of the microphone and beaming at the crowd.

“Hi! Thank you so you much for this award. Its always such a huge - - woah.” You trailed off and looked at Tom up and down, gulping loudly into the microphone.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you.

“There’s a lot of sexual tension up here.” You blew out a breath and fanned yourself. “Whew.”

The audience laughed at your bit but you were determined not to break.

“I was about to say.” Tom tweaked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. You both fidgeting with your clothing in an attempt to look busy as you avoiding eye contact.

“Um.” You laughed awkwardly into the microphone and gripped the podium. “What was I talking about?”

“I believe your last word was ‘huge’.” He said weakly, finally making eye contact with you. A chuckle went through the crowd as more caught on to the joke. You held each other’s gaze for a moment before quickly looking away.

“Right.” You nodded. “This is such a huge…a huge… sorry, what’s this award for?” You pretended to wipe sweat of your forehead as you turned around to read the screen.

“I believe it was Best Kiss.” Tom said before taking a deep, dramatic breath. You stared at each other for a long time, the only sound in the room now being your swallow breaths.

“Are we - - are we about to kiss?” You asked through a forced laugh before making your face completely serious. Tom raised his eyebrows before nodding and beginning to lean it. You leaned in to and right before your lips could touch, your heads snapped towards the crowd.

“Thank you so much!” You held up the award with a huge smile. “We love you guys! Thank you!”

This got a much bigger reaction than the last time as people cheered and laughed at your performance.

“That went well.” You gripped Toms sleeve in excitement as you walked back to your seats. “We got a lot of laughs.”

“I got a lot of laughs. You were a little flat.” He teased, pretending to flip hair behind his shoulder as you sat down.

“Mmm. Love you too.” You cupped his chin and narrowed your eyes at him. The actors and singers around you congratulated you on your first win on the night, all saying you got them with the fake out kiss.

The evening continued with an elated cloud over your seating area as you and Tom soaked up the win.

“Is it just me, or are the cameras hovering around us?” He said suddenly, calling your attention to the many cameras pointed in your direction. You waved at one and the camera man waved back.

“Trying to catch a stolen kiss I presume.” You shrugged as you gripped the award.

“Like we���d ruin the surprise.” He scoffed and put his arm around your shoulders. The second award you were nominated for together was next and your leg was already bouncing.

“I’m gonna be more disappointed in not doing our acceptance speech than I’d be in losing if we don’t get this award.” Tom said, practically reading your mind.

“I know.” You squeezed his knee anxiously. “Fingers crossed.”

“Good luck, darling.” He pulled you in closer and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I don’t need luck when I have the best screen partner in the world.” You raised your eyebrows at him as you leaned into his body. You stayed in that position as Vanessa Hudgens read the nominees.

“And tonight’s winners for Best Onscreen Couple…Tom Holland and Y/n L/n!” She announced with a smile.

“See?” You smirked at Tom as you stood up.

“Guess I should tell you you’re welcome.” He teased as he scooped you into a tight embrace. He gathered the train of your dress in hand and helped you out of the aisle.

“I’m shaking.” You whispered to him as you made your way to the steps of the stage. “I’m gonna fall.”

“I got you, darling. I won’t let you fall.” He said as he took your hand with his free one and helped you up the stairs. You hugged Vanessa tightly once you got to the podium, whispering in her ear about being a fan.

“Thank you so much for this award.” Tom began your rehearsed acceptance speech. “I’ve always wanted to win best couple.”

“Onscreen couple.” You leaned towards the microphone to correct him. He looked at you in confusion but kept a smile on his face.

“What?”

“We won for best onscreen couple.” You pointed behind you. “Not best couple.”

“Oh.” He nodded like he understood. “So what did we win Best Couple for?”

“We didn’t, since we’re not a couple.” You said slowly, bringing back your joke from earlier in the evening. The audience chuckled as Tom made a show of reading the award and the screen behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked suddenly, as if he didn’t believe you.

“Oh My God.” You groaned as you rubbed your eyes.

“Cause I feel like we are.” He gestured between the two of you. You shrugged a little and scooted closer to him while batting your lashes.

“I mean…do you wanna be?” You feigned shyness as you tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know.” He fumbled with the buttons on his suit jacket. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and looked away. “What do you want to do?”

“I could get my mom to text your mom and they could set something up.” He suggested as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay.” You smiled and picked up the award. “Maybe later we could like, you know.”

You shrugged and he laughed shyly.

“Uh Huh.” He nodded eagerly. “Or we could do like whatever.”

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky breath. “Whatever.”

The two of you smiled in appreciation at the crowd before walking off, award tucked in the crook of your elbow and hands intertwined.

~

“This is the one I’m most excited for.” Tom told you as you waiting for Best Actress to be announced. Tom was the one presenting it, which only made your anxiety spike.

“But it’s just me.” You laughed as you looked at him.

“I know.” He shrugged bashfully. “You don’t need me to win. You’re the real reason people voted for us.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shook your head and put your hand on his bicep.

“Cause it’s true.” He insisted. “You got this.”

“Thanks for voting for me.” You answered sincerely, dragging your fingertips along his cheek.

“How could I not?” He tilted his head before getting tapped by one of the stage assistants. “I gotta go. Good luck.”

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before following the assistant backstage.

You ran your hands over the arm rest, wishing Tom was still beside you to calm your nerves. You only had to wait about twenty minutes before Tom walked on stage with the envelope in hand.

“Nice to see you all again.” Tom greeted. “I know it’s strange to see me without my partner in crime, but she’s busy running through her acceptance speech in her head. Have I pissed off all the other Best Actress nominees? I bet I have.” He joked, earning a few laughs.

“Here are tonight’s nominees for Best Actress.”

You clapped for very nominated actress, noticing the wink Tom sent you when your name was displayed on the screen. Finally, it was time to announce the winner.

“And the winner of Best Actress is…” Tom’s eyes flicked up from the card before looking down again. You shut your eyes tightly and it felt like there was no air in the entire room.

“Y/n L/n.”

Your eyes flew open when you heard Tom call your name. You looked at the stage first, seeing him clapping and whistling for you with a proud smile. The people around you congratulating you, patting your back and rubbing your shoulders as you walked towards the stage. Tom had tears in his eyes as he met you at the top of the stairs, helping you stay balanced in your way to the podium. Tom got there first and took the ward off the podium and held it out to you.

“Here you go, baby.” Tom handed you the award.

Before you could take another step, he took your face between his hands and kissed you firmly. He smiled softly at you once he pulled way as you touched your fingertips to your lips in surprise.

He stepped back and let you move towards the microphone, still feeling flustered from the kiss and the win. You looked at the crowd and felt your mind go blank and they roared with applause. You looked over your shoulder at Tom, who gave you an assuring smile and mouthed “go on.” You blew out a breath and turned back to the audience, having a better grasp on what you wanted to say now.

“I can assure you, I was expecting that as much as you were.” You let out a breathy laugh and the audience laughed too.

“Thank you so much for this. This award means a lot to me.” You held up the award to punctuate your sentence. “I went into this movie thinking it would be a great opportunity to do something different than what I’m used to. I certainly didn’t go into this movie thinking I’d meet the love of my life.” You paused and smiled as a hush fell over the crowd. “Tom and I fell in love over scripts and cups of coffee at midnight, so much in love that I’m not sure I deserve this award because I wasn’t acting. Every soft touch and stolen glance, that was just me being in love with my scene partner.”

You stopped and let the audience clap for your statement, looking over your shoulder at Tom before continuing.

“I guess the secrets out now.” You laughed as you shook your head. “We had a running bet on who would accidentally reveal it first. So in addition to the three awards I won tonight, I will be getting twenty dollars.”

You heard Tom chuckling from behind you and felt compelled to finish up so you could hug him.

“All jokes aside, the number one person I want to thank tonight is Tom. I couldn’t have done this without you. And I’d never want to. I hope I spend the rest of my career sneaking Swedish Fish into award shows with you. Thank you.” You held up the award one last time before turning to Tom. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you around as he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself. I was too proud of you.” He smiled as he set you down. You began to walk backstage together, hand in hand.

“It’s all right.” You assured him. “I always appreciate a romantic gesture.”

Tom stayed quiet as you made your way back to your seats, a strange look troubling his handsome features.

“What is it?” You asked as you sat down again. Tom pursed his lips as a shy smile lit up his face.

“That was the first time you said you loved me.” He said timidly as he scratched behind his ear. Your mouth opened and shut as you found yourself at a loss for words. In the excitement of the moment, you hadn’t even realized you admitted your real feelings for him. You’d only been dating two months and while you loved him whole heartedly, you had never had the guts to tell him. Tom looked at you expectingly as he awaited your answer. Knowing there was no going back, you shrugged it off.

“Well I do.” You said finally, making his smile grow. “Is that all right?”

“Is that all right?” He laughed and took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Yeah. That’s all right.”

“Good. Because I do love you.” You leaned into him and rubbed your nose against his. He scrunched his nose as you made contact, still holding tightly to your hand.

“I love you too.” He said for the first time, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Congratulations, darling.”

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[jesslockwood]

Photo Opportunities

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF with a slightly (barely) suggestive sentence towards the end 

A/n: damn I can't write anything except actress reader? smh but this is for @londonspidey ‘s sit-com Writing challenge (ik I'm early lol) but I was so excited I wrote the whole thing in one go lmao the prompt is bolded!

Calling yourself a fan was an understatement. You were obsessed with anything and everything marvel. And oddly enough, you could after today say you were in the club. It wasn’t a public fact yet, until later that day actually, at the Marvel panel at comic con that you were being announced as the actress for the character, Felica Hardy and no one else knew except for the people who cast you and your best friend who signed an NDA. You were technically still a known actress for your roles on television mainly as Thalia on the PJO Disney + series and a couple of still decently sized films. 

You were currently wrapping up signing autographs for fans of yours for today. Your team had planned it out so it wasn’t suspicious that you were at the con with a few of your castmates scattered doing other junkets and press so people wouldn’t guess who they were acting as the cast for new marvel projects. 

You had been planning to go meet your best friend, who wasn’t in the industry before getting a text that she bought you both a photo-op with someone and she wouldn’t tell you who. You couldn’t only assume it was a marvel actor that you would indeed, freak out. 

Y/b/n: btw I brought you a mask. I get the wig lol.

You: please tell me it doesn’t cover my full face. Also, how are we posing?

Y/b/n: I bought as many photo ops as I could so a lot of different ones, And if I tell you the poses it’ll spoil it.

You: is this with the money I pay you to be my assistant with? Lol fine I’m omw with security

Y/b/n: maybe… 

Y/b/n: and they’ll need more backup security for who we’re getting a photo op with than you do for your hellfire.

You roll your eyes before taking your stuff and exiting the booth, before heading out the backways with staff security and your detailed security for the day. You only had security because you wanted to explore the con when you weren’t needed.

Your best friend had also been your assistant for the con weekend, but you didn’t want her to be confined to you the whole three days so when she could, you would let her explore it, at least she could experience it as a fan, right?

When you made it to that part of the building, you wanted to wait in line with her, which your security didn’t agree to so she texted you when there were about five people ahead of her. She was one of the last in line, with you asking her to be kind, so others would get their chance to be first with whomever it was. 

When she texted you and your detailed exit, getting a few stares and others taking their phones out to either take photos or tweet, you wave at them before joining your best friend in line.

“Here,” she says before handing you none other than a black cat mask before she puts on a red wig. 

You glare at her slightly trying to not make a scene, before putting it on. 

“I’m assuming you're Mary Jane?” you laugh figuring out that it had to be someone from Spider-Man.

“How’d you- never mind.” She laughs with you.

She then explains how she’s going to pose for your five photo ops, joking in between how she should “get a raise for this”.

You catch sight of him before sucking in your breath. This was either going to go down amazingly or terribly, there was no in-between with you. 

“Excuse Me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

You turn around and are met by some fans who were standing in line behind you.

“I am! How’s your con going?” you ask politely to the two of them.

“It's going amazing! We love you as Thalia! Could we maybe get a picture? Only if it’s okay?”

“Of course! Thank you for supporting me!” your best friend grabs their phone to take the photo, before you take off the mask, and stand between the two fans, and your best friend snaps a few photos. 

“Thank you so much! And Are you fans of Tom?”

You start slowly walking back to catch up to the line. 

“Yeah, I love him as Spiderman, but I also enjoy his other roles. He's very talented, I'd love to work with him one day!” 

“Have you seen him in Uncharted?  We love Him as Nathan drake!”

“I have, he was amazing per usual! How are you two posing with him?”

They show you their innovative pose. You laugh and tell them it's great before you have to wish them goodbye before heading up for your turn for the photo op. 

“How do we want to pose- hang on, I recognize you!”

You freeze slightly before your friend mouths for you to flirt. You look down at the mask in your hand before getting into character and saying “Of course you do Spidey, I'm always causing you trouble.” you put on the mask and wink. 

He seems slightly stunned, laughing, feeling like he’s seen you somewhere, not only because he found you extremely gorgeous, while in his peripheral vision he sees his brother/ assistant, Harry waving like a madman on the side. 

Your friend directs you both through the poses, first, one both him putting “webs” onto you as she looks over his shoulder, the second one, both of you kissing his cheeks, the third, all jumping in the air in your best superhero poses, the fourth one she gets a photo op alone and the last one she gives to you,

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your Wildest dreams, baby,” you say, taking off the mask. 

Your best friend yells “freestyle” from the sidelines before Tom dips you, gently, with you shocked, holding the mask out with your free arm and the photo captures that moment. 

 He gently helps you stand back up fully, not before you drop the mask.

“Nice moves Spider-Man.”

“Not so bad yourself, Black Cat.”

You laugh before, taking off with your best friend, well more her dragging you to the printing station leaving the mask behind. Tom picks it up before shoving it in his back pocket to hopefully give back if he could find you. 

-

`You were sitting in the green room, trending on Twitter before you were actually supposed to be trending on Twitter, and god knows where else.  

Someone had snuck a video of you and Tom, up till him dipping you, and a video of you interacting with the fans in the line.

Your Y/b/n was currently reading off some tweets out loud

“‘A kind queen we stan.’  I agree, I also agree with ‘Date her if you can't date me tom!!!’.

‘THALIA AND PETER PARKER??? My two fandoms have collided.’ same, same. Oo this one says, ‘if she ain’t playing black cat I will sue marvel.’ I'm dying at the reply ‘She needs to post the photos or I'll sue her!’. This one’s funny, ‘she could squash him like a bug in heels but he liked his queen like that.’.”

She pauses watching you texting.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“What? Sorry I was only half listening. I was texting my publicist. She said to stay on the DL until tonight. 

“Well we should get food, you haven't eaten since this morning.”

“By the way, your show has shot to number one on Disney +. Also, you have like three times the followers you had before, probably cause you're trending on every platform, even Tumblr!”

“Wow you should just become my social media manager now.” you joke trying to ease the joy yet weirded out feeling in your stomach.

“Does that come with a raise? Because after today I've spent way too much of what I'm paid.” she jokes back.

-

After finishing his photo ops Tom asked Harry who she was and to find out. By the time he finished autographs for the day, Tom and Harry walked to the panel room in the back for announcements, one that included him for the new Avengers movie, while Harry gave him the rundown.

“So she’s an actress, she plays Thalia on Disney plus’ Percy Jackson series, and that's her most known project. The other girl with her is her assistant best friend, and now she's trending everywhere. People dug up some old photos of her being a marvel/Spider-Man fan, so there's that. And she's here at the con for the rest of the weekend. She's doing photo ops tomorrow at one, and yes she's single from what I gather since you were looking at her like this.” he makes a weird face before tom smacks him.

“And plus you have time in your schedule to get a photo op with her, that is if you eat lunch quickly.”

That gave Tom an idea. 

“Harry I’m going to need you to book me one, oh and help me find a Spider-Man costume!” He says, before leaving harry to do ‘assistant’ work. entering the green room for the announcements, watching them announce a new movie.

“We are so excited to announce to the Marvel Universe, and spider-verse-” that perked tom’s ears, “-directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, and today we are announcing our amazing Miss Felicia Hardy, please give a warm welcome to the stage, Your Black Cat!”

You suddenly emerged in an aisle way, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, black ankle boots, and of course black sunglasses indoors.

The music is marvel music until it suddenly changes after a recorded laugh from you into “I can’t be tamed by Miley Cyrus”.

You start owning the music while saying hi and touching fans’ hands. You decide to take off your sunglasses and throwing them to a fan, for them to keep, before getting on stage.

“What a Performance from the one the only Y/n Y/l/n!”

You laugh, being met with the loudest applause you had heard all con before being handed a Mic. 

“Thank you but I'm a terrible dancer.” You Joke.

Tom was staring at the screen stunned. You had been the black cat all along. You were in the marvel universe and spidey one,  so he'd definitely be seeing more of you. The hard part is that you seemed so genuine when you talked, interacted with fans and was no doubt, stunning. 

“Better close your mouth or the flies will get in.” Tom turns around to find the voice of none other than his friend slash bully, Sebastian Stan, along with Anthony Mackie.

“Looks like the kid has a crush!” Anthony laughs, pointing to the screen you were on.

“I-I don’t! I don’t even know her!” Tom tries to come to his own defense, hopelessly.

“She’s got you whipped already don’t even deny it.” Harry comes in, joining the teasing of one, Tom Holland.

“Maybe we can invite her out for drinks tonight, then fanboy over here can meet her, and then probably scare her off!” Anthony mentions.

“You haven’t looked on the internet? They’ve already met.” Seb says, before showing Anthony twitter. 

Anthony stands there slightly shocked before bursting into laughter.

“Well, she’s damn well a keeper for Tom since she obviously likes him.”

A staff member peaks their head in the green room to tell Tom he’s up next.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave you two!”

On the other hand, you were on an adrenaline high from being on stage, and seeing all the fans. You knew tomorrow was going to be crazy, as you expected people to book your photo op left and right since the announcement. 

You had decided to decline an offer from your fellow marvel universe castmates, Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, which they so graciously told you that whenever you’re free, the offer still stood. 

You had gotten to your hotel room seeing your phone blowing up on the social media apps for the second time that day. 

You responded to the important stuff, before heading to bed, knowing it was going to be hectic.

-

You had been right, it was absolutely insane, the number of people who showed up. You had fully booked all your time slots for photo ops. You had seen so many people dressed up in marvel cosplay, ranging from Loki to Ironman, even some people dressed up as your character, which was wildly insane to see.

You had been nearing the end of the line and had enjoyed every moment with the fans, and you couldn’t wait for your autographing session later that day, to truly get a chance to talk to the fans and connect with them and how they felt about you being their beloved Black Cat. 

After a few more photos, posing how they wanted, you see a fully dressed, head to toe, mask and all, Spider-Man. You had seen some spider-mans but most took off their masks to snap a picture. The person was the last in line. 

“Hey Black Cat.” The southern American accented voice tells you, seeming very familiar. 

“Hey, Spider, what poses do you have up your sleeve?” you ask kindly.

“I bought a few, Cat.” they laugh.

“Okay, You can do whatever a spider can right?” you pull out a line out of the comics jokingly.

“I can do flips if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.” you laugh. 

“I really can, but this is one.”

He gets down on one knee, holding a black cat mask instead of a ring. The photographer captures the shocked expression on your face.

“I- Don’t- What- Spider I-” 

“Ow My feelings…” Suddenly their voice changes into a British accent before they pull off the mask to reveal-

“Tom?”

“I guess you don’t have a spidey sense darling?” The photographer captures the moment without warning eating the moment up. 

You laugh at that. 

“I guess you found out my true identity Spider. And it’s nice to officially meet you, Tom.”

He laughs, just as nervous as you, he notices he has gotten closer to you and a strand of hair loosely is blowing in your face, so naturally, he pushes it behind your ear. Another snap of the camera can be heard. 

“NOW KISS!” a voice belonging to your best friend yells from the side, mid-eating a churro.

You both laugh really hard at that.

The both of you calm down, slowly leaning lost in the moment. The camera snaps again. You both look at the photographer weirded out, and they just shrug.

“Wait can you actually do a flip?” you ask, pulling away, not wanting prying eyes aka the photographer, to pry in your business. 

“I can, though I’d show you later, maybe in the greenroom?”

“That sounds naughty, but, sure.” you joke around. 

He laughs before, you both take off from the area going to grab the photos.

-

After spending most of the day together when you could, you get Tom’s number, before heading back to your hotel room. He texts you as soon as you get back. 

Spider: I had fun today, minus finding our assistants making out.

You: we should ‘snog’ too, it’ll gross them out ;)

You: I had fun too btw. Are you leaving tomorrow?

Spider: lol we should. And yeah an early flight, 6 am to be exact. Hbu?

You: Yeah me too... another day another dollar lol

Spider: ill miss you, Cat.

You: stop talking like we’ll never see each other again lol. As a matter of fact, come to my room, we’re watching a movie!

Spider: alright, I’ll order snacks. 

  You sigh smiling at your phone. You haven’t felt this giddy in a long time.

Your phone pings with a few Instagram notifications.

Tomholland2013 has started following you.

Tomholland2013 has tagged you in a photo.

You open Instagram to find the photo of him “proposing” to you posted.

“Ow, my leg, my- feelings...Welcome to the Universe, Cat.” the photo is captioned. You decide to post, the photo of him dipping you.

“So what do you say, Spider? Wanna help me pull off the Heist of the Heist of the Century?” you caption it, Before getting comfortable to watch a movie. 

What an opportunity ;)

Tags:

@lolooo22 @webmeupspiderdaddy @harryhollandsgirlfriend @spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @queenofthepouges @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27

[aerois]

Remarried Empress: Sovieshu Contextualized and Navier the Unreliable Narrator (SPOILERS!)

So recently I started reading Remarried Empress on WEBTOON. Honestly the whole premise wasn’t my cup of tea and I was solely reading it because it was part of an event where I could get free coins (lol). But then... I got hooked. I got invested. Started drinking in chapters whenever and wherever I could, and even now I still crave more. I wanted Navier to have some semblance of a happy ending (and, let’s be honest, I wanted to drag that precious little bitch Trashta by her fucking hair across the yard). At first it was mostly that. Raging at Trashta and her Simperor, pondering at Heinley’s true intentions, drooling over Kaufman. 

And then, I noticed something odd. I noticed-- the strangest thing-- Sovieshu seemed to be... not as enamored with his mistress as meets the eye. And there was even some hinting that his feelings for Navier weren’t what we assumed.

I have to preface this: I don’t condone Sovieshu’s crappy actions. He’s an idiot, and acts very poorly as a husband. And there’s no excuse for cheating. Absolutely not! So I don’t want this post to come across like In Defense of Sovieshu, because it’s not. But I do think that our view, the reader’s view, of Sovieshu, is warped. And this is mainly because we see the story through Navier’s eyes of course, but we forget that every individual person is fallible. Every person, at some point, harbors false assumptions that color their concepts of truth and reality. Put shortly, Navier is human, and therefore is not a reliable narrator at some points. Especially concerning her husband. We see Sovieshu entirely through the eyes of his wronged wife in the webcomic. Pin that: in the webcomic. Did you know the webcomic is actually based on a mobile game? Yes, it is! And I downloaded it! And I’m playing it! And... I’m actually... hating Sovieshu less?????????? 

Ok, ok, put the pitchforks down! Hear me out! I’m not saying any of the stuff he did was okay! But Navier’s narration of the story paints him as this cold, detached man who grew to hate his wife so much that he flew into the arms of some hussy for warmth and then just cast his wife aside and deliberately acted like a jerk just because he wanted her to suffer.  And there’s a grain of truth to that. There are points where Sovieshu feels bitter and does or says something waspish. But it’s not as black and white as you might assume. I played the mobile game, and decided to take Sovieshu’s route out of spite. I opened this app, saw it was an otome with this garbage-fire, cheating sack of shit for a romance option and thought “Hah! The nerve. Probably some semi-abusive dirtbag route aimed to appeal to girls who like men who treat them badly. You know, that mutually abusive relationship appeal that some girls like because drama.” And I needed to rack up in-game currency anyway (it’s like usual mobile games, where when you wanna make cool choices you gotta cough up cash unless you “diamond-mine” on crappy stories to save up the meager bits of free currency the app gives you for playing) so I figured I’d blast through the Sovieshu route and skip onto my darling Kaufman in playthrough 2.

And then the smoke genuinely compelling character development got me. So I could run y’all through Navier’s version of the events, but you already know that. For Sovieshu though? Here’s the kicker: this idiot has had a raging passion for his wife slowly building up for years throughout their entire lives, and only realizes it about halfway through the events of the story. This idiot, this buffon, this absolute brain-dead dolt... didn’t even realize he was pining over his own wife until he was about to explode from the desperation from it all. God, I wish I was joking. Lemme break it down for you:

Sovieshu’s POV: He and Navier are introduced as kids and are told they’ll be married someday. Life partners. They are raised in tandem to respect and care for one another. Kinda smacks of grooming (go mom and dad!) but whatever, that’s the background. These kids are mentally regarding each other as spouses their entire conscious lives. And Sovieshu, as he grows, quickly comes to realize his intended is a selfless girl who holds everything inside. The first spark of his affection for her is wrapped in this: that Sovieshu longs for Navier to take off her “perfect princess” mask and let herself be vulnerable with him. He admires her intellingence, her grace, and her devotion to her country. He looks at her and sees someone that inspires him. He craves the opportunity to comfort and protect her. He waits, and these opportunities come in small instances. But they get older, their burdens get heavier, and like most young women, Navier gets better at pretending nothing is wrong with her and putting everyone else first. Sovieshu feels more distant from her. But that desire to break through her wall still stands.

They marry, but Navier, in her infinite wisdom, makes the assumption that this marriage is entirely political (despite...the fact... that they were raised together??? they were literally best friends their entire lives??? are y’all seeing how this could be confusing for him???) and that there are absolutely no feelings involved on Sovieshu’s side. Expect there’s that little problem. That little problem. Of Navier’s absolute inability to be vulnerable. And so she starts this marriage all Elsa-Conceal-Don’t-Feel convinced that her husband (whom she is secretly in love with, shocker) holds no warmth for her because she’s never received any from him. 

Now I’ll acknowledge that this is a two way street, where Sovieshu fails as well. Should Navier have made a mature decision and asked for love and support when she needed it? Yes. Should Sovieshu have offered anyway, despite not knowing that she wanted it at all? Yes. They’re both in the wrong here. They’re both too passive, too afraid.

So the first few years of their marriage pass by like this. And Navier kinda melts into more of a depressed state over it, while Sovieshu becomes frustrated. But he doesn’t know why. He hasn’t quite put his finger on the fact that HE’S IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE, GEE WHAT A SURPRISE BUDDY. And then... the little ingenue comes in. Trashta, with her crocodile tears, oversharing of emotions, co-dependent as all get-out. You see where I’m headed, right? It’s not just that she’s the opposite of Navier that gets Sovieshu hooked. It’s that she gives him that opportunity to unburden all this pent up romantic frustration. He can comfort, and protect, and wipe away the tears of a woman who loves him... And for a while, it’s intoxicating. That itch is finally being scratched.

Or so it seems. Because sooner or later, Sovieshu realizes that this woman is not his wife. And she’s a bit clingy, and clueless, and she’s... well, she’s not his wife. She’s not his wife. 

“Oh, dear God...” the idiot finally realizes. “I don’t want this hussy. I want my wife!” 

Ding ding ding! You did it! And it only took you--what? 20 years? After all this time, Sovieshu (and the audience playing his route) realizes. He’s not cheating because he’s bored, or because he hates his wife, or because he’s Inherently An Asshole And That’s What Assholes Do. He’s cheating because he’s using this woman as a stand-in for his wife. He’s been looking straight through this woman and seeking his wife the entire time. He’s cheating because he’s stupid and repressed and misguided and human. And again, that doesn’t excuse it. He still cheated, and that’s something he needs to spend a life-time making up for. It’s a mistake, and a big one. But it’s not fueled by a malicious hatred or a desire to hurt her. It’s fueled by confusion and fear. And, strangely enough, a desire to perform love for his wife.

So anyway, this stupid dweeb finally wakes up and realizes that no matter how much he plays around with the Town Skank, it doesn’t slate that thirst for the woman he’s spent his life growing to love. And that he actually, truly loves her to begin with. Now at this point, Navier was away travelling, doing queenly stuff. And he gets a message from a servant-- his wife is home. This boy books it. This man throws down what he’s doing, sprints across the imperial palace, to stumble at the feet of his wife; red-faced and breathless, absolutely undone. This man is screaming for his wife on the inside and now nothing he can do will quiet it. And his wife, ever the perfect pinnacle of a monarch, just raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him and wonders what’s got him in such a tizzy.

This is where the difference between the narratives hits especially hard. Navier has absolutely no clue that her husband is a hair-thin thread of self-control away from all of this just completely spilling out of him. She looks at him and sees a tormentor; someone who’s treating her like a used doll. And he sees this Goddess that’s been hiding in plain sigh the whole time. He sees his sins and repents before this, his wife, his almighty Goddess. But he doesn’t know what to do. She’s still been hurt by him, Trashta is still in their lives, and damn it all, he’s still frustrated. He still feels bitter and abandoned because even after everything, even after the years of marriage, his wife just seems so unaffected by him. This is where Navier’s “perfect queen” image that she tries so hard to curate really bites her in the ass.

These two dumbasses are hopelessly in love with each other but they’re deadlocked in an endless cycle of letting their prides get in the way. Navier doesn’t want to be vulnerable. Sovieshu doesn’t want to compromise, doesn’t know how to not lash out in anger when he’s really feeling sad. Unlike Navier, he can express emotions-- but not in a heathy way. So he says something mean, does something kinda shitty. And Navier thinks it’s because he delights in her suffering. So Sovieshu’s over here in his head like a cranky little child that’s mad at mommy because she’s on the phone, and Navier is over there in her head wondering why on earth her husband can’t notice a love that she’s never actually expressed to him. And it’s just terrible. But kind of hilarious. Mostly sad and terrible. But defintely hilarious.

To further illustrate this: even a lot of Sovieshu’s actions, for that matter, get warped by Navier’s unreliable narration. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! In the chapter where Trashta is stabbed, Sovieshu immediately screams for guards to surround Navier. So I’ll sum up their thought processes here.

Navier: Oh my God, I can’t believe this asshole. Calling the guards? He really fuckin thinks I did this?! Jerk! Asshole! He really thinks I’d arrange for a pregnant woman to be stabbed!! He’s probably deliberately framing me too, so he can get me out of the way and live happily ever after with her!

Sovieshu: OH MY GOD, MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE COULD GET STABBED NEXT SOMEONE HELP well actually maybe she had something to do with it? nah. prolly not. but even if she did idgaf I LOVE MY WIFE, I’LL COVER FOR YOU BABY I’LL FORGIVE WHATEVER. GUARDS, FIND WHO DID THE STABBING SO THEY DON’T STAB MY PERFECT WIFE NEXT

Like I wish I was joking, but that’s how it read. Anyway, I’m not done with the comic or the game yet. But Sovieshu’s motivations aren’t all as they seem. And while he’s not a perfect husband, he has the capacity to mature, let down his pride, and make steps toward atoning to his wife. I honestly and genuinely believe this marriage could be salvageable if they could come clean with each other. A lot of people want to root for Kaufman or Heinley, and I get it. Those two would probably treat her well. But the fact stands that these two are married, and surprisingly, they both actually still hold a spark of love for one another. If Sovieshu could genuinely repent, and demonstrate this to Navier, they would attain the happy marriage with each other that they both strive for. Anyway, I find myself surprisingly hooked on the story now that I see Sovieshu’s POV. He’s not a hero in this story by any means, but I’m somehow, against my better judgement, rooting for him. I’m rooting for him to make the right choices and repair his marriage. 

It’s a bold strategy, folks. Let’s see how it pays off.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Gimme a K Street Job

leverage 5.05

lemme just start by addressing the episode synopsis: “to take down a competitive cheerleading company which profits by putting teenage girls at risk, the team must tackle their most corrupt foe yet: congress”

y’all they went SO HARD for 2012 and I stan them SO HARD for that

- - - - -

Parker (into video camera on phone): Do you hate me? You hate me. Is that why you’re making me—

[Leverage Headquarters]

Parker (on display): —do this?

Nate: No, Par-Parker, these girls... they need a coach, and you’re the best gymnast I know.

Hardison: Besides, it puts you on the inside at Pep H.Q. In D.C. They’re running cheer camp for the next week up until championship.

Parker: But they’re teenage girls. What do I know about teenage girls?

Nate: You were a teenage girl?

Parker: Only sort of

parker I guarantee you’ll be in your element soon enough

but, in the meantime, parker complaining to nate like an offended child to a parent is everything

- - - - -

Sophie: Look, did you know about this? Girls being dropped from 20 feet. It’s unbelievable.

Parker: I know, right? 20 feet? Psh! Walk it off.

Sophie: Parker, you do know that normal people don’t just “walk off” a 20-foot fall, right?

Parker: So... all those times I pushed Hardison off a building and he was all “aah!”... he wasn’t just being funny?

(Hardison shakes his head)

Eliot: I thought it was funny, Parker.

Hardison: No way in hell was it funny.

Eliot: You’re always upside down, man.

Hardison: I fell off a building. I was upside...

Eliot: Like a Himalayan tree frog.

Hardison: You calling me a frog? You calling me a damn frog? Say it again. Say it to my face

I’d die for this chaotic ot3

eliot “I thought it was funny” spencer made sure to both reassure parker and fuck with hardison in the saME B R E A T H

- - - - -

Nate: Ah, there’s the crux of the problem right there. Technically, legally, cheerleading is not a sport. It’s an activity.

Sophie: What’s the difference?

Eliot: A sport has legally mandated safety standards.

Nate: Yes, and a for-profit company cannot run a sport, which is why pep wants to keep Competitive cheer from becoming a sport.

I don’t know why I was expecting someone to bash cheerleading the show had never ever let me down and I should have known better

- - - - -

Sophie: Ah, I love government. Shady deals, back-room meetings... It is grifter paradise.

Eliot: This is wrong. We work outside the law, not smack-dab in the middle of it.

Nate: Relax, Eliot. Elected officials are the easiest marks in the world. Between their ego, the greed, and the politics... More hooks than a bait shop

another fucked up government episode let’s go

- - - - -

Eliot: Right. Assuming it passes.

Hardison: Assuming what? It’s a bill to keep high-school girls out of wheelchairs. Who’s gonna vote against it?

[Congressional Meeting]

LeGrange: Ladies and gentlemen, this bill is a staggering... I say a staggering overreach of government power.

Eliot: You were saying

eliot is smug and loves proving hardison wrong on principle

- - - - -

LeGrange: Now, I was a quarterback in high school, so I think I know a thing or two about cheerleaders. And one thing I know is that they do not want big government getting all up in their business.

(Barron and Snyder enter the room)

LeGrange: Cheerleaders are strong, independent young women. They don’t need a bunch of white-haired old men from Washington telling them what to do. They don’t need a nanny state dictating their every move

this whole thing was so gross wtf

- - - - -

(Hardison uses his phone to create feedback on the sound system. A technician struggles to fix it while Hardison hands Eliot his phone)

Hardison: Just press this button.

LeGrange: I said, who knows what...

(Eliot presses button and the feedback gets worse)

they lowkey grinned at each other when they did it ,,,

they’re a chaotic duo that thrives on fucking with people and I stan them so hard for it

two words: assholery boyfriends

- - - - -

Nate: No, not... not marks. Elected officials. We do this right, we’ll have them eating out of our hand by dinner.

(hours later, Hardison enters looking exhausted. The others are seated around looking tired as well)

Eliot: “Eating out of our hand by dinner,” huh?

Hardison (sits down): Anybody else feel like we’ve been chewed up and spit out

and that’s government, people

- - - - -

Sophie: I like stealing things that are real. Cash... of course. Land... sure. Art... yes, please. Corn subsidies? Not so much.

let sophie steal expensive art from rich snobs pls it’s what she deserves

- - - - -

Girl: Um, coach?

Parker: Right! Okay, who’s up for some basic gymnastics drills?

(Parker presses a button and LASER light lines shine between orange cones. A girl in the back raises her hand)

Parker: Yes. You. What are you called?

Madison: Madison. Can I be excused? I don’t feel well.

Parker: But... We have... laser grid, Madison. Laser grid. Huh?

(on phone call)

Parker: They’re so jaded

I hope they still learned how to dodge lasers at the end

also ,,, THEIR PERFORMANCE WAS SO GOOD AT THE END PARKER TAUGHT THEM SO WELL

- - - - -

LeGrange: No, no. Listen carefully, son. Now, people don’t donate to me to buy my vote. People donate to me because they already know how I’m gonna vote. People donate to me because of my integrity. Now, if your people are interested in me, I’m happy to have your money. But if you think you can buy a vote off of J.J. LeGrange, well, you got another think coming.

[Empty Office]

Sophie: You mean...

Eliot: Yeah, I mean the guy’s got integrity. Elected official or not, you can’t con an honest man

congressman: *is honorable*

eliot:

sophie:

hardison:

nate:

*team collectively embodies the surprised pikachu meme*

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, so what’s your next play?

Eliot: Well, you’re supposed to be the mastermind. He doesn’t want power. He doesn’t want money. Maybe he really is an honest man.

Nate: Everyone has a hook, Eliot. Everyone has a weakness you can exploit.

Eliot: Do you?

Nate: No. You?

Eliot: No. Look, maybe this doesn’t fit into your world view, Nate, but there are some people out there that just want to serve. Trust me. I served with them.

Nate: Okay. Well, if all they want to do is serve, you can exploit that, too.

they totally have hooks and it’s the team but smh act like y’all are untouchable whatever

- - - - -

(Parker turns on a light in Ashley’s face)

Ashley: Madison talked to me in confidence.

Parker: A big word for a little girl.

Nate: Where’s Madison?

(Parker leans down into Ashley’s face, growling)

she literally G R O W L E D LMFAO

- - - - -

Parker: Madison? Madis... (sees Madison) Madison, hey, what are you doing down here? (helps Madison up) Everybody’s freaking out. Come on, we got to get you to the competition.

Madison (jerks away): I don’t want to compete.

Parker: What? Why not?

Madison: I don’t want to mess up again.

Parker: What are you talking about? When do you mess up? You’re great.

Madison: Seriously?

Parker: Oh. You were Marcy’s spotter.

Madison: I don’t know what went wrong. We’d done it a hundred times. Everything was going perfectly. (sits down) I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.

(Nate clears his voice. Parker sits beside Madison)

Parker: Look... I’m not afraid of heights or falling or... Anything I probably should be. But do you know what I am afraid of? Letting down the people I care about. Look, you don’t have to compete if you don’t want to compete. But I think your friends are gonna feel a lot safer knowing that you’re there, instead of having no one there.

(Madison nods)

Parker: Right? Did, uh, that work? Because I kind of got to get all the way up to the roof, so... (leaves the area)

parker NEVER would have been able to be vulnerable and understanding like that in the earlier seasons and we are SO PROUD of her and her character growth

+

“But do you know what I am afraid of? Letting down the people I care about.”

SHE LOVES HER FAMILY SO MUCH AND NEVER WANTS ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO THEM

also ,,, nate’s fond look at her when she’s saying this ??? im soft

- - - - -

Cheerleader: Ready! Ready!

Announcer: Let’s hear it for the MHS Badgers!

Announcer: Ready! Ready! Let’s go!

Nate: Ready?

[Congresswoman Berkus’ Office]

Hardison: Ready.

[Sophie’s Office]

Sophie: Ready.

[Hallway]

Eliot: Ready.

[Pep Athletics Headquarters]

Parker: Ready.

Nate: Let’s go.

they’re so extra I love them

- - - - -

Ashley: Where’s coach?

Madison: She’ll be here. She won’t let us down.

Man: Wolves, you’re up.

Female announcer: Let’s give it up for the Wolves.

Parker: I’m here! I’m here! I’m here! All right, let’s huddle up. I bet you guys could use a pep talk right about now, huh?

(cheerleaders agree)

Parker: For Marcy?

Madison: For Marcy.

Parker: Go, wolves.

All: Go-o-o-o, wolves!

(cheerleaders perform an outstanding routine. Barron approaches Nate as he watches)

parker THRIVED during this episode and you can’t change my mind

- - - - -

parker watching over the cheer team with pride is my religion

- - - - -

also BIG PROPS to the producers that showed male cheerleaders too

- - - - -

LeGrange: Hi. (to Parker) How are you? J.J. LeGrange.

Parker: I don’t vote.

parker is chaotic and we love her for it

- - - - -

Hardison: And what was that about?

Sophie: Huh? Oh, I was j... I was, um, just planning a little trip to the gulf. The military are breaking ground on Fort Devereaux.

Hardison: Fort Devereaux?

Sophie: Mm-hmm. I love government.

Parker: Missed you guys this week. Good game.

I WANNA SEE FORT DEVERAUX

also parker wrapping her arms around sophie and hardison, happy to have her people and admitting that she missed them? the pOWER

- - - - -

Nate: Good job on this one.

Eliot: I know what you’re trying to do, Nate. You could have told me how to hook LeGrange the whole time, but you wanted to see if I could figure it out on my own. I trust someday very, very soon, you’re gonna tell me what kind of game you’re playing.

Nate: Good job on this one.

(Nate walks away. Eliot smiles, but watches him walk away)

eliot’s bashful little smile at the end is everything

[fifielady]

Something; Love

@hetaliamondaychallenge​‘s “If you meant it, kiss me” prompt challenge

Rating: T

Ship: USUK

Note/s: My internet connection suddenly cut off just as I finished this up last night ;-; but at least it’s working now. I know it’s a bit late and this is a bit rushed but I hope you guys enjoy this.

Acting is a distinguished art that involved elements crucial to the point that if done right, everyone involved will be completely enthralled and would forget for even a moment they were a mere spectator detached from the wonderfully different world onstage. Arthur Kirkland, a junior, loved it. The stage, the power, the act. He relished being both on the stage conquering the attention and the hearts of the spectators and out of their view making very sure that the play would go exactly as he instructed them all like the 'theatre tyrant' as he is. (Christened to him ever since he stepped foot inside their highschool's exclusive theatre troupe-- err, drama club.)

However! Oh God, in all things he thrived in his world, how Arthur hated improv. Well... fine, he didn't outright hate it. Improv is an art and he would not drag that down. But, oftentimes, it would drag the whole detailed and scripted act. Worse, it could undermine the whole premise of the plotline! And Arthur would outright shove the person who even dares to deviate from the scene into hell and torture them with his endless taunts to force them to utter the name of that Scottish play every single time they enter his theatre. In actuality, it was the school's theatre, then again, Arthur knows that he'll be stage director his senior year next year so he may as well call it his now anyway.

Hmm, wait... Where was he going with that train of thought exactly--

"Why?!" Alfred shouted as he deflected Arthur's lunge with his sword, every word that came out was further intensified by the clash and clang of their improvised broom-swords."Why do all this when you had it all?!"

-- Ah, yes, this. Arthur spun left when his 'enemy' thrust his broom inches from Arthur's stomach. This was one of their club's monthly destress-from-the-current-play-we-are-doing-this-spring activities. Their current stage director, Elizabeta, was a god-sent in Arthur's eyes to let everyone in the club, techies included, engage in impromptu dramas and stories; competition was always there, of course, and the club was divided into two groups.

"Ha! I had it all?" Agh, Damn it all! He pivots and strikes Alfred's upper thigh just to spite the man who caused this mess. "It-it seems you are mistaken, I have nothing. Nothing!"

Usually, Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F, Jones, would be separated into their respective groups named after the feuding families of Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers (They had personalized red and blue shirts and all). Usually. Also usually, Elizabeta happened liked to mix things up and then proceeded to regroup everyone.

That was how Arthur ended up 'dueling to the death’ against their club's upstart but excellent freshman actor during their impromptu plays. Alfred Jones was the kind of person who devoted himself to the character he portrayed. The kind of person that was so very kind, sometimes naive, and wouldn't hurt a soul to gain notoriety on the stage (which was done quite often in these kinds of environments). Arthur liked that. It didn't hurt him to like like Alfred as well as he liked Alfred's compelling air onstage.

But his feelings for the other won't alleviate the fact that he was angry because someone had the nerve to switch Arthur's 'best-friend-betrays-and-kills-the-crown-prince-because-of-politics' impromptu plot to something that of a dramatic romance just because he forgot his line and muttered something completely different in context in the middle of the fight! And Arthur was left to quickly bite a response and then his character's motives suddenly changed. ("I love my father's kingdom but you have my heart! You know this." "Lies! If you loved me as much, you would've stopped your father from attacking my family!) Someone just had the nerve to throw him off his balance and now--

The traitor used all his strength as he flung his enemy's sword, throwing it far away from the other's hands. It thunked near their audience, almost hitting a student, but both of the actors never took their eyes away from each other. Arthur growled and pushed Alfred down the dusty floor on his ass. The fallen crown prince lay there with his broom-sword meters away and the tip of his former friend's sword centimetres on the left of his chest, where his heart should be. Both of them were panting. sweating out the tension that suddenly overcame the room.

Arthur thinks it was both a wonderful and terrible scene. Wonderful in a sense he's bested the other and continued to his planned narrative for their act. And terrible in a way that if this were the reality they both lived in, the best of friends torn by society's expectation, it would hurt not only the prince but also his heart.

With steely eyes, Arthur uttered the last line of their act, "I have nothing left. Nothing to lose." He thrust his broom and Alfred shouted as if someone had really pained his heart physically and emotionally.

Arthur’s heart clenched.

But in true Alfred F. Jones fashion, he smiled a smile Arthur saw when it was only them alone under the mostly atmosphere of the library with blue eyes untainted by their acting, never lying, and completely threw Arthur's precise and thought-out chess plan in the trash. He gripped Arthur's broom, muscles quivering for effect, and whispered, "You had me... and my... love...!" Alfred went lax.

Applause.

Once again, Alfred won over the narrative and his heart.

------------------------------

Arthur listened to the last goodbyes and see-you-laters of the exiting students. His group won this month's supply of cheesecake reserved in the cafeteria thanks to their performance. It was mostly him and Alfred but he recognizes the efforts of his groupmates into contributing to their act. Personally, Arthur thinks his performance was sub-par today; he may be overly-critical of himself but he knew that when Alfred forgot his line and did improv ruined his tempo.

Alfred. His acting today almost wasn't acting at all. Those eyes and that watery smile that had held his emotions for all the world to see. Was it... love?

No. Arthur shook his head. It couldn't be. Alfred was an actor just like Arthur was going to be a stage director. Excellent and good at what they're supposed to do in their grand world onstage. Flawless.

It was upsetting, somehow. Arthur wouldn't lie that he wished it was real. Not the stab and kill my love part but the one that what Arthur was spared from the pain of unrequited love. It would be lovely, "--If he actually meant it, that he loved me."

"And if I did?"

Arthur spun around faster than his cues onstage. There was Alfred, leaning on the doorway with a no-nonsense look on his face. The intense red of the setting Sun illuminating and heightening every line he’d said and say. "What...?"

"And if I did? If love you, what would you do?" Tight, Arthur’s lungs felt like someone was choking him in the inside.

"Alfred, the activity is over, there's no need for you to continue the act." He deflected, frowning. A mix of dread something else he couldn’t describe fluttered in his chest. Suddenly, he knew this feeling; it was hard to breathe.

"What if I stopped 'acting' when I improvised my line and confessed with my real feelings. What if I told you that I meant what I said. That I love you." Alfred strode to him, purposeful and his face looking a little flushed. "What would you do, Arthur?"

Alfred doesn't lie, he acts. But not right now. Alfred was telling him, Arthur Kirkland, that he loves him. Bleeding hell, yes. He knew the other man wasn’t planning on letting him go any sooner if Arthur didn’t give him a reply in this very moment

"Well, if it were true that you love me," he licked his lips, "If you meant it, kiss me. And maybe, I'll say I love you too."

Alfred pouted but then the corner of his lips curved to a smile. "'Maybe'? Aren't you being too mean on me today? You just stabbed your best friend with a broom."

Arthur smiled back and chuckled, happiness made fluttered in his heart and warmed his cheeks. "How about a kiss for the prince for his troubles?"

"Mn, yeah, that's acceptable. A kiss for your prince from my boyfriend, right?" He leaned down a bit and was wiggling his eyebrows so much, Arthur was tempted to smack him instead. Tempted indeed.

However, a kiss on Alfred's lips was a million times more tempting. Arthur leaned a bit up into those lips and did just that.

They had something. Love.

end

[dvp95]

seen but not heard

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: mature

warnings: none

tags: memory loss, amnesia, hurt/comfort, introspection, established relationship, domestic, an annoying amount of communication

word count: 7,070

sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr) and so easy to come back into you (on ao3 and tumblr) and is that as good as it gets? (on ao3 and tumblr)

Bingo squares: forever home + breakfast bar + advocacy + emergency contact + instagram stories + frottage + picnic + movie plot au (yep. you read that right.)

read on ao3 or here!

Phil's hair is getting so long. The somewhat damaged ends curve around his ears, pieces of fringe falling into his eyes several times a day before being impatiently brushed away. It's soft, lazily pushed off his forehead, because he hasn't quite gotten the hang of quiff styling just yet. Dan almost wishes he'd helped Phil with it, Before, so that he could be more useful now.

There's a lot of things he wishes he'd done Before. He's dealing with one of them now, watching Phil run his hand over the cool, diamond tiles of an island counter that doesn't belong to them.

"It's nice," he says, noncommittal, but Dan isn't going to be polite for their real estate agent's sake.

"It's ugly," says Dan. "We don't want tile, we want granite. Or marble."

Phil blinks over at him with that carefully neutral face that Dan hates. "I mean, it's fine. It's just the counters. The rest of the kitchen is still nice."

It isn't. Dan can spot at least a dozen details that would have had Phil catching his eye with a sardonic little smile just a handful of months ago. The drawer handles are the knobby kind that Phil tends to knock his shins into, the hanging lights over the island counter are downright tacky, and everything's a little bit dated in the way that screams time and money spent renovating.

Their agent is nodding, though, because she had already gotten very familiar with their weird mish-mash of a wishlist before she needed to be reintroduced to Phil.

"I know that this room isn't ideal for you," Ellie is saying, tapping on her phone with a little stylus pen. "But the rest of the house has some great features, and the outside space was too good to ignore it altogether."

While she isn't looking, Phil lets some of his mask slip. It isn't what Dan wants to see, it's his 'why are you making a scene' eyebrows, but he still feels a slight comfort at being able to clock it. Sometimes Phil is impossible to read, on purpose, and Dan wants to tear his hair out from the root whenever that happens.

Dan crosses his arms over his chest and pulls his mouth in a way that he's sure has one of his dimples out, because he can feel the muscles in his cheek hugging the corner of his lips.

Phil rolls his eyes and taps at the tile countertop once, twice. Dan knows what that means, too, and he's still not thrilled about it.

They used to be on the same page, is the thing. They'd spent so many years arguing over the smallest of details for a home that had been purely hypothetical, watching renovation shows and saying, when we get our place, that now Dan feels wrongfooted.

"Alright, let's see the outside, then," Dan says, unable to hold back his irritation. Phil frowns at him again, but the mask is back up the moment that Ellie looks at them.

"Great! Just follow me."

Phil does so easily, following Ellie out of the kitchen and into the conservatory, but Dan has to take a moment.

He takes a couple deep breaths and runs his fingers over the ugly tile, wondering if Phil's tastes have actually changed so drastically or if he just doesn't care as much, being more or less a uni student. Neither of them had cared much about that sort of thing back then.

That was before they settled into themselves, into each other, before they'd formed opinions on things like the types of handles they'd have in their kitchen someday.

Maybe it would have been better if they'd done this last year, when they first started properly looking. Except they'd been too busy, always too busy, and Dan had been on an emotional rollercoaster of his own creation, and Phil had been so stressed he was passing out in bathrooms.

So maybe it would have gone even worse. Maybe they'd be stretched too thin and talking to each other too sharply instead. But the uncertainty is killing Dan, making him wonder, wonder, wonder.

Dan taps the tile once, twice, just like Phil had done, even though nobody is in the room to see it. We'll talk about this later.

The garden is nice enough. So is the rest of the house, really, but it isn't theirs, isn't going to be theirs. Dan can't see himself in it, can't see Phil in it, and he gives Ellie an apologetic little shrug on their way back to her car.

"That's alright, Daniel," she's saying in that briskly cheerful way of hers. "I've got a couple more places I can show you boys today. Nothing checks off all your items just yet, but I'm keeping my eyes and ears open for you - and, of course, you might still fall in love with a home that seems imperfect on paper!"

At the L word, Phil reaches for him. Dan has to fight not to pull his hand back, muscle memory, but he keeps his flinching internal and allows Phil to tangle their fingers together.

They're outside on the pavement in the late hours of the morning, December frost allowing them to see glimpses of their breath in the air. They listen to Ellie chatter as she digs around her purse for her keys and Dan doesn't freak out about holding his boyfriend's hand in public.

"That sounds nice," Phil says, squeezing Dan's hand a bit too tightly to be entirely reassuring.

Dan already knows how this conversation is going to go. Phil is going to ask him why he was being rude, Dan is going to try not to blame the memory loss for his frustration, and they'll probably end up more annoyed than when they started. They've still got a couple more places to look at before then, though, and Dan isn't sure how he feels about being the only one vetoing these places.

Scratch that. He knows exactly how he feels about it, and that's alone. He feels very, very alone when Phil isn't backing him up the way he used to.

They have to let go of each other to clamber in the car, Phil claiming shotgun easily, and Dan already misses the feeling of Phil's hand in his own. Phil's hands are always so soft, the weight of them so reassuring even when he's using them to tell Dan to stop being dramatic.

Dan links his own fingers together in his lap and zones out from the polite small talk happening in the front seat, watching the unfamiliar borough pass by through the window.

--

Sure enough, they're alone for five seconds in their building's swanky lift when Phil says, "You were being a dick."

Dan exhales slowly and keeps his eyes on the mindless app game he's playing. "And?"

"And, why?" Phil asks, and Dan doesn't need to look at him to know he's rolling his eyes. He does that a lot when he's frustrated with Dan, and sometimes it gets under Dan's skin in a way that leads to an argument, but he's not in that defensive type of mood today.

"Because we weren't going to buy any of those places," Dan says, "so why should I pretend like I was interested in them?"

"Well, of course we weren't," says Phil.

That surprises Dan into glancing up. His phone vibrates as he loses the level, but he doesn't actually care. He feels the corners of his mouth twitching and tries not to let them curve upwards, because he's still a little annoyed with Phil for not being on his side all day. He wonders if Phil can tell he's trying not to smile.

Probably. Phil grins at him, and Dan loses the battle.

"If you know that," Dan laughs and leads the way out of the lift, down their winding hallway. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I've got manners, Daniel," Phil sniffs. He's patting down his jacket and jeans, looking for the keys that Dan's actually got. Dan lets him search for longer than strictly necessary before he pulls out his keys and lets them in.

Phil snorts and shoves lightly at Dan's shoulder, but the tension between them has relaxed into something that Dan can handle. Over the past few months, Phil has learned how to argue with Dan in a way that isn't so pointed, is more conducive to actual change, but Dan still doesn't like arguing with Phil. He'd much rather bicker, all the honesty without the sharp edges of real insults.

"I just don't think it's necessary to pretend like we're interested in places we aren't going to buy," Dan says, shrugging out of his jacket. "It's Ellie's job to find us the right place."

"Do you think the right place exists?"

The question stumps Dan for a moment. Of course the right place exists, they just have to find it, and probably rework parts of it to be perfect for them. He's not usually the one pulling out blind optimism in casual conversation, but it just seems so unlikely that they'll be searching forever.

"I do," says Dan. "I do think the right place is out there. And so do you."

It's always a little risky these days, stating Phil's feelings like they're fact. Sometimes it makes Phil bristle.

This time, Phil just smiles at him. He reaches for Dan and Dan doesn't flinch, going easily into Phil's arms and accepting the slow kiss with a smile of his own. They haven't even left the entryway.

The cold outside has seeped into Phil, making his fingers and lips chilly with it, and Dan presses closer to try and chase it away. Phil giggles into the kiss and presses his cold hands to the sides of Dan's neck.

"Awful!" Dan yelps, smacking his hands away.

Phil giggles again, pushing his tongue between his teeth as he does so, and Dan almost isn't able to keep a straight face. His cheeks are tinted pink from the wind and his crow's feet are deep with unabashed joy. He's beautiful, and happy, and Dan only hangs onto his scowl by a thread.

"What?" Phil asks, all performatively wide eyes. He has long lost the ability to use the innocent act on Dan.

"Your hands are fucking frozen, mate," says Dan. "Keep them away from me."

"Thought you liked it when I touch you," Phil laughs, seemingly oblivious to the way Dan's stomach twists at the joke. He wiggles his fingers at Dan threateningly. "What're you gonna do?"

"Make you sleep on the sofa."

It's a laughably empty threat, and Phil knows that at this point. He grins wider and reaches for Dan's face with both hands.

Dan shrieks a protest and ducks away, bounding up the stairs and only sparing a moment's thought to worry when he hears Phil curse and bang his knee on a step in chase. He feels like a kid again, playing a weird sort of tag, and the tension from the day is melting out of Dan as they shout nonsense at each other and do fake-outs around the sofa.

This is better. Better than the arguing that Dan had expected and even better than the bickering that he'd settle for. He lets himself get caught in the kitchen, laughing like a hyena when Phil sticks his cold hands up his shirt and holds him against their breakfast bar, which has no ugly tile in sight for them to get fixated on.

Phil presses their open mouths together and Dan, for once, is thankful that he doesn't know this Phil as well as he thinks he does.

--

There was a time in Dan's life, not all that long ago, where the concept of permission to touch was almost an afterthought. In the privacy of their own home, where there were never prying eyes or judgements from strangers, they would put their hands, their lips, their entire selves, anywhere on each other and it would be more than okay with the other. Sure, there were always days where they didn't want to be touched, but they knew each other's moods and body language well enough that it stopped needing to be verbalized.

Now, it is no longer a given that what they want is each other's touch at all times.

Is this okay?, Dan will ask, wrapping his arms around Phil, kissing his forehead, heart pounding as he waits to hear if the soft affection is all too much for Phil today.

Is this okay?, Phil will ask in return, his hesitant fingers skimming over Dan's bare skin like he isn't sure if he's allowed, because sometimes he is not.

The boundaries have shifted, and sometimes Dan worries that this is permanent, that he and Phil will never again be able to read each other so well that the question is only confirmation, not permission.

Sometimes, Dan is scared that things between the two of them will never be the same again. He'd held onto some kind of hope for a while that Phil would one day wake up and be himself again, but that was in September. Now, their box of Christmas decorations is out and ready to be unpacked, but Phil still feels... different. Slightly off. Uncanny Valley.

--

"Maybe this is just who he is, now," Dan says quietly. "Maybe we're already past the point of this thing affecting us forever."

"Maybe," says Robin. Her volume matches his, but her tone is full of warmth. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward a bit, tucking a stray thin braid behind her ear. "Would knowing that be better or worse than the uncertainty?"

That's a good question. Dan chews his lip a little bit and glances at his old friend, the fern in the corner. He's impressed by her ability to keep it alive.

"I don't know. Better, maybe, because at least I won't be waiting for something that might never come."

"What are you waiting for?" Robin asks. When Dan can only shrug, she tries again. "Let me rephrase that. If you woke up tomorrow and things between you and Phil were, as you've put it in past sessions, 'back to normal', how would you know? What would the indicators of change be?"

Dan doesn't really like to think about it, if he's honest, but he supposes that's kind of the whole point of this therapy thing.

He sighs and looks down at his own hands. "We would just... know. I wouldn't need to teach him things about me, he wouldn't get that look in his eyes I don't understand anymore. We'd just know each other again."

There's a long moment of quiet, then. Dan can't tell if it's because Robin is processing his words or because she's giving him space to keep talking, but it doesn't really matter in the end. He doesn't mind the stretches of silence that happen a few times every session, broken only by the low hum of the office space heater, because he understands the purpose of them.

"You know," she says, still so soft, "that's the way most relationships work, Daniel."

Dan blinks, his long fingers curling into his palms. "What do you mean?" he asks, even though he's pretty sure he knows the answer already.

"I mean that all relationships are based on communication," says Robin. "And from what you've told me since we started seeing each other, it seems to me like you and Phil became most comfortable using non-verbal communication. Am I right in thinking that?"

The one-two tap to the island counter that didn't belong to them: We'll talk about this later. The tentative brush of fingers over Dan's waist while they kiss: Is this okay?

"I think we still are," Dan says, slow. "But it isn't as... seamless, I guess, as it used to be."

"People grow and change," Robin reminds him. "They'll do that even without the trauma the two of you have been through. I know that change is scary, but maybe it's an opportunity for you and Phil to grow together."

Dan looks up and gives her a sardonic little smile. "You're saying that talking is good, actually."

"Of course it is." Robin laughs, and Dan feels that weird sense of pride that he always gets when his therapist thinks he's funny. "I'm not here to tell you what to do or how to live your life, but, yes. Talking is very good, actually."

"Ugh," Dan jokes, relaxing into his chair a bit more.

The lighter mood is a welcome shift, but Dan knows that the undercurrent of anxiety won't go away unless he addresses it. He looks over at the fern, its leaves more or less stationary now that it's too cold for Robin's fan to be running.

"I'm scared," he says, "that if we alter parts of our relationship, it's like we're giving up altogether on the way things were."

"And that's a bad thing?" Robin asks. Dan likes the way she manages to keep her tone level - like she's clarifying, not judging. He wonders if it's a skill he would ever be able to emulate.

"I guess it's more of a different thing than a bad thing," Dan admits. "Because, like. I love him and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him either way. And I'm always going to wish this didn't happen, because it's not fair and it sucks, but I don't, like, hold it against him or anything. I just can't help... hoping."

It makes guilt settle in Dan's gut every time he voices that, no matter how much Robin - and Phil - assure him that it's a totally reasonable thing for him to be feeling.

He can't shake the niggling doubt that Phil wouldn't be so hung up on the past if the situation was reversed. At first, yeah, sure, he'd have freaked out probably more than Dan had, but Dan can't imagine him being anything but excited about small memories coming back, while Dan still has to hold back waves of disappointment. He knows Phil, every version of Phil, and yet he isn't sure if these doubts are pure paranoia about his own reactions or if they're accurate. It doesn't really matter. He's never going to know for sure.

What he does know, and what he reminds himself of often, is that Phil loves him. They love each other, and they can get through this even if it's scary, if it hurts, if Phil never remembers a single thing again. They'll still be okay. What they've built together is solid, no matter what fleeting worries they might have.

"I think it's very normal to hope," Robin says. She's predictable in her platitudes, but Dan is still glad to hear it. "It does sound scary to come back and rework things in a relationship you thought would stay the same forever. Have there been times in the past that the two of you needed to come back to a boundary or behaviour for whatever reason and say, 'hey, this isn't working for me anymore'?"

"Yeah," Dan says, slowly. He's struggling to think of an example that isn't kink-based. He hates his brain sometimes. "Uh..."

Blessedly, Robin waves a hand in his general direction. "You don't have to tell me. I just want you to think about those times, okay? Remember that you needed to talk this sort of thing through Before, too, just not as often."

Dan can hear the emphasis, the same way he hears it in his own mind. The way he thinks that the fans have probably been using it, if Dan could stomach looking at comments anymore.

"Phil might never be the way he was Before," says Dan. His voice sounds too loud in the soft atmosphere, his heart pounding in his ears the way it does every time he says something like this out loud. "Because. He's different forever now, isn't he. This affected him to his core, temporary or not."

Robin nods, more of a prompt to continue than an agreement, but Dan can't speak past the lump in his throat.

"That may be so," she says. "And the same is true for you, Dan, isn't it?"

It is. Dan wishes it weren't, but it is.

He looks at the leaves of the fern again, admires its healthy hue, as he tries to hold back the wetness threatening to surge uncontrollably to his eyes.

Most of the time, Robin gives him a moment to collect himself. Sometimes, though, she gently pushes.

"So if you don't hold that against Phil, why do you hold it against yourself?"

--

Phil is on the sofa, wrapped in a quilt and concentrating hard on the Crash Bandicoot level he's been trying to beat without Dan's help for the past few days. There are two mugs on the coffee table, bits of steam twisting from them, the weak sun is low in the sky - a downside of winter that Dan forgets about every year until it comes around again - and Phil's got a candle lit.

This place isn't theirs, not really, but the scene looks and smells and feels so much like home that Dan has to steady himself on the doorframe.

The ugly tile, they could have lived with. This, Phil making a cozy nest for them while he waits for Dan because he knows that Dan's always drained after therapy, is something that Dan will never allow himself to live without.

"Hey, you," Dan says when it is clear that Phil is too engaged in the game to notice him.

Crash dies as Phil jumps. An apology is on Dan's lips, but Phil beams up at him and it gets lost somewhere on the way out.

"Jeez, you scared me," Phil laughs. He holds the quilt cocoon open in invitation. That's not something Dan thinks he could ever turn his nose up at. He comes close and settles into the warm space under Phil's arm, pressing a soft kiss to Phil's chest as he does. Phil folds the quilt around them both and kisses Dan's curls. "Hi, love. How was therapy?"

"Hard," Dan rasps out. He snuggles closer, presses himself as close to Phil as he can possibly get in this position. "Don't wanna talk about it yet."

"Okay," says Phil. He squeezes Dan's shoulder. "I made you hot chocolate, when you want it."

Dan closes his eyes and nods, lets the sensation of being loved curl through his body and warm him from the inside.

--

There's a routine. There always has been.

They'll take turns making food for each other, tidy up the flat half-heartedly, work on projects - or, in Dan's current case, spiral over not working on projects - until they start to go cross-eyed, and then they curl up with an episode or four of something they both like until one of them starts to yawn.

It's a good routine, and it works for them, but today Dan stops Phil from opening his laptop with a hand on his wrist.

"I'm not going to stop being picky about our house."

"What?" Phil asks, brow furrowed adorably.

Dan smiles and shifts his grip so that he's holding Phil's hand. "I'm going to be really annoying about it. I'm a perfectionist, and I'm almost as stubborn as you are, and I care about what our forever home looks like."

"Okay," says Phil. He's blinking at Dan like Dan is out of focus, even though his glasses are on. His coffee clearly hasn't kicked in yet.

"And I would appreciate it," Dan continues, "if you would back me up. We're a team, yeah? I'm not asking you to be rude to anyone, just don't, like... contradict me when you don't mean it. I know you knew that kitchen was ugly as fuck."

The corners of Phil's lips curve upwards, and he shrugs. "Yeah. It really was. What the hell were those lights? We're too tall for hanging lights, Dan."

Dan laughs. Maybe talking isn't so bad after all. He rests his chin on Phil's shoulder and noses into his neck, annoying on purpose so he can hear Phil's little huff of laughter as he gets pushed away.

"We are too tall for hanging lights," Dan agrees, warm. "And did you see the showerhead in the third place? It would spray me in the fucking eye."

"But the right place is out there," Phil reminds him, still smiling.

"It's out there," says Dan. He dimples at Phil, leans in for a slow, simple kiss. "We aren't in any rush."

The way Phil grins at him, so uninhibited and happy, makes Dan wish he'd never doubted this. There are moments, there are always moments, when it is harder, but. Dan is so in love with the Phil beside him right now that he can't even conjure up that disappointment if he wanted to.

"We aren't?" Phil checks, teasing. He wraps both arms around Dan instead of reaching for his laptop again.

Dan likes that Phil isn't so focused on work now, hasn't had the lived experience of settling into such a never-ending schedule of videos, tweets, Instagram stories, liveshows. He still does all those things now, despite Dan's worries, it's just not as all-consuming as it used to be.

"No," says Dan. He knows he's smiling, he can feel it.

"I'm glad your biological clock isn't ticking," Phil teases, tickling Dan's sides, and Dan laughs to cover the pang he feels.

That's a conversation he doesn't know how to have, now. They'd never made solid plans, always a 'someday', after the house and the dog and the telling Dan's family.

They're halfway through that list, but Dan can't imagine bringing that up to Phil at this point. He knows damn well that Phil hadn't wanted kids at the mental age he's at now, and he really doesn't want to see the meerkat face of pure panic.

Instead, Dan pushes that worry down and crawls into Phil's lap. "Mm, not yet," he says, deflecting easily. "You wanna do something today?"

"I've got some work to do," Phil says, apologetic. He squeezes Dan's hips. "Maybe later?"

"Overworking yourself is a habit I really wish you wouldn't fall into again," Dan murmurs, brushing his thumbs over the sharp angles of Phil's cheeks to soften the harshness of his words. "It's not good for you."

It would be easy for Phil to wave off the concern like it's no big deal or to coolly point out that one of them ought to be working, but he just smiles at Dan.

"Okay," he agrees, far more easily than he ever would have Before. "Have you got something in mind?"

Dan doesn't, but he can make decisions on the fly a lot easier than Phil can. "Dunno. Let's get out of the house for a bit, yeah? There's that vegan cafe I've been wanting to try."

To Phil's credit, he barely pulls a face.

"Vegan cafe?"

"Yeah," Dan laughs, presses his open mouth against Phil's jaw for a moment. "I mean, Adrian recommended it - my brother, Adrian - and he's, like, way better about the vegan thing than I am, so. Figured he probably knows what he's talking about."

Phil's eyes light up the tiniest bit. "You've been talking to your brother?"

No. Dan's been stalking Adrian's Instagrams every day since his brother came back to England for Christmas, watching the stories about food and marathons and yeah, maybe wondering what it would be like to be told about all of it firsthand. It's always worst in the weeks leading up to Christmas, the way Dan's goblin brain likes to compare his tenuous relationships with his family to other people - to the Lesters, specifically.

It's hard to be jealous of a thing you've been invited into with open arms, and yet Dan's mind has managed it.

He doesn't know how to explain that to Phil, not when he knows exactly how unreasonable it is, so he just shrugs. "No, saw it on his Insta story the other day."

Phil is too good at that carefully neutral expression, but Dan doesn't mind this time. He doesn't want to see the judgement that he's sure is just under the surface, not when he's still trying to shake the joke about kids.

"Okay," Phil says. "You'll have to get off me so we can get dressed, though."

--

The sun is beating down on Dan's skin, making him feel hot all over and lazy with it. He stretches out on the blanket underneath him and hums, contentment seeping all the way to his bones.

Lips are pressed to the back of his neck, across his shoulders, down his spine, and he feels his toes curl.

"Feels nice," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" When Phil laughs, the hot exhale of breath against Dan's bare skin makes him shiver despite the heat. "This was your idea, you little rat, don't fall asleep on me."

Dan can't remember his line. He supposes it doesn't really matter, in this hazy dream of a memory. He just wiggles in invitation and makes a low, happy noise when Phil's weight settles properly on top of him.

In reality, he'd gotten sunscreen rubbed into his shoulders and a trail of feather-light kisses in the wake of Phil's hands before Phil made him sit up and eat the sandwiches Dan had brought with them. The beach was private, but so was Phil, and Dan couldn't say no to a picnic he'd been the one to insist on, in any case.

This time, Dan's subconscious wants a different ending. The kisses on his back turn to bites, and he arches into the phantom feeling with a soft groan.

"Dan," Phil says in his ear. He sounds strained in a way Dan didn't expect. "Bear, wake up."

Dan doesn't want to wake up. He wants to chase the warm feelings of pleasure that his dream is promising him. He huffs unhappily and shakes his head, burying his face further into his own arms.

"Seriously, Dan," says Phil, and the tinge of panic is enough to pull Dan completely out of the dream.

Grumbling a bit, Dan blinks his eyes open and takes stock of the situation. He's got his face buried in Phil's chest, not his pillow, and an arm and a leg draped over him carelessly. It's not that unusual of a cuddle to wake up in, but when Dan shifts to get more comfortable, he realises the problem. He's managed to press his dream-induced arousal into the dip of Phil's hip, and he's probably been grinding against it in his sleep.

"Aw, fuck," he groans, rolling onto his back and tossing an arm over his face to hide his blush. "Christ, sorry, I didn't mean to, fucking - sorry."

"I mean, I don't mind." Phil laughs, low and rough from sleep. That fucking laugh. It doesn't help Dan's situation. He also sounds relieved, now that Dan isn't trapping him against the mattress. "But you were sleeping. I didn't want you to be upset when you woke up."

"This is humiliating," Dan informs him.

He feels Phil shrug, their shoulders brushing together. "Not really. I mean, it's fine, you're just a deeper sleeper than me."

"It's stupid," Dan insists, "that we aren't having sex. This is the longest we've ever gone without having sex, and it's my stupid fault, and -"

"Hey," says Phil. His soft, steady hands pull Dan's arm off his face. He props himself up on his side and smiles at Dan, unfocused gaze somewhere around Dan's eyebrows. "Stop that. I don't care."

"How do you not care?" Dan huffs. "All I cared about when I was twenty was getting fucked."

Phil laughs. "Yeah, okay, maybe being in my thirties has caught up to me."

"It has not," says Dan. "Trust me."

"Okay, but you don't want to," Phil says, and Dan feels guilt settle in his gut despite Phil's easy tone. "And I know that. D'you think I've just been sitting here resenting you for it?"

Yes.

Even though Phil doesn't have his glasses on to see Dan, something about Dan's silence must give him away. Phil furrows his brow, humour dropping, and puts his palm over Dan's chest.

"I haven't," Phil says, so earnest with it that Dan wants to cry. "I get why you don't want to, and even if I didn't get it, I'd still be fine with it."

"I should be able to fuck my boyfriend," Dan informs the ceiling, unable to keep looking at Phil while he's exuding pure sincerity. "Hell, I should be able to snog my boyfriend, and I can't even do that without freaking the fuck out. What if it doesn't go away? What if I'm always like this, now? What if you always feel like a stranger, Phil, what then?"

The room is quiet for a couple of beats while Dan tries not to cry while he's got a semi. Phil's hand over his heart is the only thing grounding him from going into a proper spiral.

"First of all, I'm your fiancé," says Phil.

That isn't a response Dan expected. He looks back at Phil, expecting to see a teasing lilt to his mouth, but Phil is still all wide-eyed genuineness. Dan's heart aches.

"I think that makes it worse, probably," Dan whispers.

"Second of all," Phil says like Dan hasn't spoken, "I'm not a dickhead. If you don't want to snog me, we won't snog. If you do, we will. I get that you feel guilty, but like... so do I, babe. Neither of us are the same people anymore, yeah? It's not anyone's fault."

"I guess..."

Phil rolls his eyes. "I love you, not your cock, you absolute idiot."

Giggles burst past Dan's lips before he can stop them, and Phil snorts. They're both laughing softly, then, Phil's forehead pressed to Dan's shoulder and Dan's fingers covering his own mouth.

"D'you even remember my cock?" Dan teases. He yelps when Phil pinches his side, squirming away from it.

"Remember your mum's cock," Phil grumbles.

It's crude and it makes no goddamn sense and both of them are wheezing before long as they trade stupid, sleepy banter and roll around, poking and pinching and tickling.

The guilt is still there, simmering on a low boil in Dan's stomach, but he can work that out in therapy. He's got no reason not to believe Phil except his own paranoia, so. He's going to try.

--

Dan pushes and pulls at the boundaries while Phil follows his lead, ever patient about the experimentation. Is this okay?, Dan asks when he starts getting changed in the same room as Phil again, his fingers under the waistband of his pants and his teeth working at his lower lip. Is this okay?, Phil asks in response when his mouth finds the underside of Dan's jaw, the curve of Dan's ear, the sensitive pulse point of Dan's neck that makes him gasp.

It isn't always. But they're working on it, they're asking, they're a team even in this, and Dan starts to feel that hope again.

--

Normally, Dan doesn't answer his phone to unknown numbers. He's a proper millennial - if someone wants to get ahold of him, they can text him, leave a voicemail, or call Phil.

But he's bored, idly cleaning the house while Phil runs errands, and he's all too happy to distract himself from watching Phil's Instagram story from Starbucks for the umpteenth time since it was posted. So he answers it, expecting to tell a telemarketer to fuck off.

"Hullo?" he says, rearranging the mugs in their too-full cupboard by colour.

"May I speak to Daniel Howell?"

Dan gives up on sorting their alarmingly large collection of mugs and takes one out to start making himself a coffee instead. "Speaking. Who's this?"

"Hi, Daniel," the woman on the line says, kindly professional and clipped like she's in a bit of a rush. "I'm calling from St. Joseph's. You're listed as the emergency contact for -"

"Phil," Dan breathes, his blood rushing to his ears and making him dizzy. He barely hangs on to the mug, gripping tight enough to hurt his palm so it doesn't shatter on the tile. "Phil Lester, right? What happened? Is he hurt?"

"He has no serious injuries," she assures him quickly. "Mr. Lester fainted in a public place and was brought in by a member of the public."

Fuck. Fuck, not again.

Dan puts the mug down and starts searching for keys, socks, a jacket. "Fuck," he says out loud, not concerned at all about swearing at a stranger. He's sure she's lovely. "Fuck, alright, St. Joseph's? In A&E, right? I'll be there in, like, fucking. Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. Is he awake?"

"He's awake, but he’s confused. Come to the front desk at A&E and we'll get you sorted."

Before she can say anything else, Dan hangs up on her. He's going to hyperventilate if he has to listen to this any more. It takes him a moment to collect himself, remember that it doesn't help anybody for him to fall apart right now, and then he's grabbing his things and rushing out the door.

--

"I'm fine," Phil is insisting blearily, trying to wave the nurse away from inspecting the small cut on his forehead.

"You hit the pavement," the nurse says, patient, and Dan wants to strangle himself for not joining Phil when he left the flat this morning. "I need to clean this, Philip, so we can see if you need any stitches."

"I don't," says Phil. He's slurring a bit, and that fucking terrifies Dan. "Don't need em."

The nurse, admirably, does not roll his eyes. "I'll be the judge of that, alright? Please stay still for me."

Phil opens his mouth to protest again, and Dan has to step in before Phil's stubbornness gets the better of all of them. His heart is in his fucking throat as he steps closer to Phil's bed, hands shoved in his pockets so nobody can see them shaking.

"Phil, c'mon, let him do his job," Dan says, quiet out of respect for the people around them.

He's practically frozen when Phil looks at him and blinks, confused. Dan hasn't thrown an actual temper tantrum since he was a kid, but this is the kind of thing that could make him scream and break shit. He watches Phil's eyes, round and bewildered behind his broken glasses, and he holds his breath as he waits for the moment of truth.

"Dan," Phil says, and Dan could fucking pass out himself from how relieved he is. "What're you doing here? They're saying I fainted, did I faint?"

"You did," says Dan. He makes eye contact with the nurse before carefully sitting at the foot of Phil's bed. The nurse doesn't ask him to move, so he doesn't. "I wasn't with you, the hospital called me. D'you... do you remember what happened?"

It's more of a loaded question than Dan really wants it to be. Phil still looks confused, and he's trying to wave away the nurse's hand again, so Dan takes both of Phil's hands in his own and squeezes them reassuringly.

Dan is tempted to glance up at the nurse, to look around at all the strangers who might be staring at them, but he honestly couldn't give a toss right now if someone wants to give them a dirty look. Anyway it's unlikely that, in this particular room, anybody cares about two men holding hands.

"You don't need stitches," the nurse announces after a moment. Dan still doesn't let go of Phil's hands. "I'll be back in a moment, okay, Philip? We're going to need to get you a CT scan as soon as possible."

"I don't wanna," Phil groans.

"Well, tough," the nurse says easily enough, and Dan is surprised into laughing. He catches the small smile on the nurse's face before he moves away from the bed, and Dan wonders how Phil can still be so charming to strangers when he's acting like a drunk, pigheaded toddler.

"You know who I am?" Dan checks once they're left more or less alone, brushing his thumbs over the back of Phil's hands.

"Yeah, there's," Phil says, frowning like he doesn't know what comes next. After a moment, he shrugs. "I dunno. Doesn't feel like anything else is, er, gone? Feel the same. Just, like. Confused."

He's less coherent than he'd been in their kitchen all those months ago, and that scares the shit out of Dan. He tries not to let that show, because the last thing he needs is to add to Phil's confusion and anxiety or exacerbate his own.

"I'm glad," Dan jokes weakly instead. "Don't know what I'd do if you forgot me again, mate."

"I'd still love you," Phil says, a little nonsensical.

Dan laughs wetly, his eyes welling up despite himself. "Yeah. I'd make you fall in love with me over and over like, fucking, that Adam Sandler movie or something."

"I dunno that one."

"That's okay. I would."

"Good." Phil smiles at him, a little goofily, and raises Dan's hands to kiss his knuckles. That's a little more intimate than Dan usually cares to be in public, but. Whatever. He's fighting a losing battle with his emotions already. "Mm. Marry me?"

A traitorous tear slips out and Dan huffs a laugh, taking one of his hands back to wipe at his eyes. "I already said yes."

"You said yes but not right now," Phil reminds him, and Dan's heart swells with the confirmation that Phil is still in there. "Yes but later. Well, it's later, isn't it?"

"Is this really the best time?" Dan asks, but he can feel the grin stretching his face.

"Yes, it is." Phil reaches up and pokes Dan's cheek, right in his dimple. "Boop," he stage-whispers.

Dan's laughing then, and crying, everything bubbling up and making him a bit hysterical with it. He presses his lips to the corner of Phil's mouth, because he doesn't care. He doesn't care who sees, he's going to kiss his fiancé. He does remember where they are, though, so he pulls back and giggles at Phil's pout.

He taps once, twice, on Phil's knee. We'll talk about this later.

[gg-astrology]

hiii!! i'm that hannah montana but seokjin agenda anon, tell hi to your friend!! the lvl of my satisfaction is impossible to describe, thank you for your service. and yes, you've fulfilled my request!! i really appreciate your efforts, it was on point!! can i request more bangtan things?? only if it's alright with you :| can you do the same ranking for them from ' i'm rich 3$, wine and dine me' to 'i have a rolled blanket as my pillow' *cough* jk *cough*. from that to a simpler lifestyle? thk!

Hey there!! 💕❤️💕 Welcome back!!! 💕❤️💕💕❤️💕 slkskjnsdkjns she saw this and im really glad u like it!! 💕❤️💕💕❤️💕 

U can! 💕❤️💕Me and my friend really like your questions because it’s very thoughtful and fun!! 💕❤️💕 

EDIT: My friend said they interpreted this question differently into ‘how complex vs simple’ their lifestyle is and!!!!!!!!!! maybe we’ll edit and add it in anon if u send in another ask I’ll ask my friend if they want to answer?? I’m sorry!!!!! My 2nd house sun immediately: Wealth  

Please send us more questions, but maybe not this one bc it’s about their personal lifestyle/how they live (+ not their personalities or what they’ve shown us) and it may be treading on 1. making assumptions about their personal life in which we’re in no authoritative position to commentate on  

2. we can obviously talk about how we view them and write commentaries on how we feel/what we think, but there’s also a line where we have to acknowledge people might see us as credible information/authority in our own rights when it’s out in public/shared to an audience 

3. what they’ve shown us clear boundaries between public figures and their audience might be wiser 

4. acknowledging our position of power + influence to the community rather than ignoring the fact that our words have sway will help us in the long-run by making conscious, thoughtful choices on what we could give/bring to the fan/outside community as well. 

I hope this makes sense?? 💕❤️💕 I hope it’s ok if I mulled it over last night and thought I might not – it might not be the best idea to talk about it/put it out there?? 

Please don’t feel bad at all!! 💕❤️💕I really love your questions and I actually wrote as I tried to figure out how to do this (literally just disclaimers before I realized oh maybe there’s no way to do this properly and I shouldn’t??) – I don’t want you to get out of this ask empty-handed, so if it makes it any better – I’ll publish my working through below the read more and you might see what I was working out as I try to answer your question?? 💕❤️💕 

Long commentary on BTS privilege, social inequality + wealth disparities in the real world (disclaimer for this ask?)  +  Working Outs and Why It Didn’t Work ⬇️

Note: From here on below is me writing my thoughts down as I tried to answer the ask, I hope that – even though I couldn’t answer your question – this is a good answer in other regards either way? Hopefully? 

Just a disclaimer note on BTS and this topic as well: In my head I’m immediately going into commentary about social inequality, wealth disparity and how poverty + classism exists in real life. 

Just a quick tangent, but real people suffer from this issue. Our society have consequences when it comes to wealth inequality + the ability to afford basic human amenities (healthcare, living/housing, food, education, transportation, disabilities etc.) 

Even when they’re relatable, BTS are billionaires who knows their position is privileged. Lets - make that clear for a second.  

They still do their best in variety shows where they have to compete/entertain the audience. What I’m trying to say is. I’d rather not ignore/make note that there’s a difference between being privileged, being aware of these issues and still preferring simpler lifestyles for themselves. Than being ignorant and completely insensitive/unaffected from the matter. They’re still privileged, let’s make that clear. And thus, as relatable as they are to the public/audience, they benefit from the social/economical/political power they have given by those around them (their audience, accessibility medias and production).  

In the context that is related (i.e. army joking that BTS fights over ramen) – BTS have never once shown that they’re unaware of their wealth + privilege, even it was a joke – the thing that is missing is the context –  they’re usually seen competing in BTS run/gayo, but it’s produced to let them showcase their dynamic and chemistry  - the prize (commodities/money) was never actually the main focus. 

A highly competitive game with members who know each other well - is actually what these shows are about. 

BTS doesn’t glorify their own wealth, nor have they acted as if they are poor in order to gain relatability or sympathy from the audience/masses (looking at armis 💜 who does this. delete armi 💜) 

It’s a part of why they have fans and why people like them. They’re able to sell products + contribute to relief/charity organizations and advocate campaigns.  Whilst they are in position of privilege compared to others - they’ve never not acknowledged that they could afford to do so for reasonable personal requests (i.e. safety on flights and in airports, security in their home, equipments to perform/produce with, reaching out to audiences that usually never has the opportunity to connect with them despite liking them for a long time, etc.)

I think it’s just important to note - for those who are armys and those who are looking at it from the outside - that this is what we see and why we’re talking about this. 

I just want us to acknowledge that they’re privileged and their lifestyle choices are personal, I think that’s what I’m doing here. 

So, commentary on social inequality of the world we all live in + BTS privilege in all this/disparities. check.

This is going to be disgustingly generalized to an incredible amount because we don’t have houses – to be completely honest, within the context of the question having houses is exactly what we need for these types of answers. 

From a technical stand-point, not having houses when we’re talking about specific contexts within a person’s life (basically why we have so many houses - for different contexts) – will make this reading terribly vague and misleading as well. 

Actually, should we do this at all.. because simply saying oh Taurus/Libra placements would want materialistic things to show x, y, z is incredibly misgiving and is like a blanket statement. Without houses in question, there’s no specification on what it is used for or what kind, or what type of actions/manifestations these signs are going to have in order to express themselves.  

Planets in signs can only do so much to talk about the energy that is being produced – placing them in houses and context, gives them manifestation that doesn’t simply exist in a vacuum by itself.

All placements in a chart make up a cohesive picture of what it is used for, when and where. With only the how/why (placements) — the best I can probably do to answer the question is just explain how it could possibly manifest and why/what reasoning it may have to express itself that way.

While that is something I could? probably talk about. It… just doesn’t answer the question in a way that’s satisfying. This question is really good… and there’s a way to get there and give it the answer it wants. But.. with what we have, it’s a disservice to answer half-right and do a poor job overall, than to actually give the full answer.

Hnnnfghfnhgn there’s also.. some disclaimers on personal life for idols/public figures and how this might.. be almost assuming or intruding on that territory? From a glance it isn’t like it’s not something they’ve not shown us publicly or told us about. But they also didn’t advertise it, and what they do with their personal life/lifestyle– is that something we (as fan) are in anyway, shape or form, capable or have any voice to talk about as if we know what they’re doing? Does that? make sense? 

Like, intruding as in - do we have any authority to tell them to get a pillow or stop drinking wine or something like that. Speculate, on what restaurant they go to/how $$$ it is, or does things that are privileged, things that aren’t going to han river to bike, etc. Can we really pick and choose certain choices they choose to do with their lifestyle, while being completely separated from reality of their other?

Idk.. this is getting complicated.. but maybe sticking to things they are proud of and does talk about openly/happily in their public and professional persona might be better… considering that they should have? a modicum of personal life back to themselves? we could at least do that and choose to respect them right… thats? hm. what’s right.

Fine wine and dine, lavish restaurants and other personal choices on their expenses and love for/lifestyle… maybe.. its for the best if we leave it to their own authority and discretion, over their own private/personal life and what they choose to share with people they know/care for/love. 

I think the end all of it might just be: can I imagine them coming to say to us “army, you know how I am right? I’m like this in my personal lifestyle/choice” – and of what they could say, I don’t think that’s something they may be willing to share without their explicit consent, nor can I imagine it right now if it’s about messy habits or a flaw they may have. So hm. 

The question addresses simpler lifestyle too – we don’t have authority to commentate on JK’s pillow choices, but being exposed like that suddenly might not be something he’s entirely comfortable with or would advertise to others as well? Not to mention, they all seem to not advertise anything that is outrageously privileged that would smack anyone in the face – they’re pretty sensitive to keeping things personal, private, under-wraps. Even when they choose to eat at a well-known restaurant, it’s not in bad-taste or done frivolously. In a way, they all tend to keep a simpler lifestyle about them to not let their wealth + privilege get in the way of their work + connecting to us, focusing solely on what their skills are + performance and music. 

Simply going by that.. is it wise to talk about something we might just choose to show decency/a modicum of respect for the idol’s privacy maybe.. uhhdfjgnn i!!!!!!!!! there’s thoughts and feelings and im just trying to let it out so it makes sense and then i can navigate between it and see what i can do/the right way to talk about it (if it exists)!!

God.. I guess there’s.. no way I can possibly do this?? Considering if I think about it from all sides – I can’t approach it technically, without houses. I literally can’t answer this question, it isn’t about choice because answering this question is directly asking about the houses. So I literally can’t answer correctly. I also can’t – or well, I don’t think the moral issue is ok here when I think further on it. Consequences are inevitable with all posts/production, but optimizing it so that it affects people positively and minimize damage to others is always something to check through. This may not be a good idea, just to do. So maybe not. 

Hhndndhnndf ok,,, gotta,,, write something for the introduction so it makes sense.

Note: I did go through this, edit and write some additional paragraphs to make it make sense. But I hope this? gives you insight or some thoughts to my working process and what I consider/go through when I make these posts as well? Thank u for ur time, I hope it isn’t too disappointing ;;  let me know what u think/how u feel anon I’m sorry I couldn’t do this question but please let me know if you’re ok or not!!!! 💕❤️💕💕❤️💕

[monicalorandavis]

I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling

I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling. This movie is fun and I simply won’t talk to anyone who disagrees! I don’t want to argue about its merits. It’s good.

Your issue is, I presume, an issue with what the film says about the upper class. Go on, sympathize for the horrible, rich family that represents all that is ugly with America. Feel bad for the racist gargoyles who are equal parts human and checking account. These people are snobs. They are snob dumpster fires and if you didn’t have fun roasting them then you and I are on different sides of the war.

What war you ask? I guess I’ll call it the culture war (though that’s not really it). I’m talking about the current (unannounced) civil war between those who think Trump is getting unfairly maligned and us, the ones who are looking back on this shameful era ten years down the line, explaining to our kids what the fuck happened in 2019. This is bad. Art should make fun of us. Our obsession with fame and fortune has gotten us into global laughing stock territory. So let’s allow for art to poke fun as the bullshit of America. Art should be a reflection of our ugly parts. We all must look in the mirror when we try on a bathing suit. This is that. I choose not to place blame on the world for my muffin top. It’s funny. I’m gonna still have fun with this muffin, and this film, even if it doesn’t make me feel amazing. Laughing at yourself exorcises the demons. We still need art to encourage our spiritual progress. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.

So, now that I’ve sorted that out, the film...

It’s good.

Now let’s focus on the acting which is, arguably, always my favorite part of any movie.

Didn’t we all revel in the Yosemite Sam impression Daniel Craig was doing with New Orleans private investigator, Benoit Blanc? Wasn’t Lakeith Stanfield playing the slightly oblivious police detective while his partner fangirled over Christopher Plummer a treat?

It was.

In a society so obsessed with celebrity, it was especially delightful to watch the investigators reckon with people who simply did not believe they had to play by the rules. They don’t have to partake in police questioning. They have people for that!

Only, they do have to partake in police questioning and their lack of experience in dealing with authority figures, like the police, made them particularly horrible witnesses. They quite enjoyed a wonderfully anonymous type of wealth, free from press and the quotidian boredom of bosses, day jobs, rules...you get it. The Thrombey’s do not handle inconvenience very well.

As a result, we delight in their misfortune. This move dripped with Agatha Christie meets Succession realness. Plus subtle notes of Rupaul’s Drag Race camp.

Yes, I admit, Benoit Blanc is no Hercule Poirot. All these mystery purists coming for ‘Knives Out’ best fall back with those comparisons because it’s simply unfair. Christie’s number one Belgian is too good for mere mortals to emulate. And Daniel Craig tried very, very hard to give you an iconic detective character. Was it goofy and weird? Yes. Let’s all agree to move on.

And the moving on is a larger lesson here. Because only when you surrender to this film does it reveal all its gifts to you. Once you stop comparing it to all the other stories you hold so dear does it grow into its own animal. It’s a mystery for the age in which we find ourselves. I will not slander the p.c. police because, hell, I’m sort of one of them. Social justice warrior is not an insult that rustles my feathers. Interestingly, this film joins the SJW’s alongside the Stephen Miller’s of the world. White privilege is white privilege. And, unfortunately, the Thrombey’s, both young and old, liberal and conservative, are victims of their privilege. So blind to the plight of others, they can not help but make themselves the heroes of their own story. And people don’t like the thought that they, like the film’s youngest SJW of the family, Katherine Langford, could be part of the problem. And yet, she is. She so is.

Langford delivers a knockout performance of Taylor Swift-level white feminism that is so 2019 and clueless that I imagine many people even missed the joke.

Along those same lines, Chris Evans is the playboy, black sheep of the family who seems misunderstood and sexy but, spoiler alert, is just conniving and sexy.

Both performances were stellar and so deeply entrenched in modern white identity politics that if you’re not paying attention you might assume that their characters are just your standard rich villains. Nay. These are the “good white people” who are behaving badly. These are the white people who donate to charities and hire undocumented workers like Ana de Armas’ character, Marta. They are people who listen to rap music and love ‘Insecure’ and took an African-American studies class in college. And yet, they demand attention and emotional labor from the (employed) people around them. They distort proximity with closeness and try to lure Marta into their world. But she always knows better. For whatever reason, she can not trust these people, even before Harlan’s death.

Rian Johnson directs with a certain je ne sais quoi. Call it a ‘BDE’ that I would not expect from such a dweeby looking dweeb. Yes, ‘Knives Out’ has a fun enough story. But it really shows the fuck out is with its performances. Holy moly. No small roles, only small actors, as the saying goes. Yet in the case of ‘Knives Out’ you will find neither. Everybody is a god damn star. You should know that I stan Chris Evans but, as it turns out, this film begs you to worship its entire cast. So I did.

‘Knives Out’ is a star-making performance for Ana de Armas. If you hadn’t heard, de Armas garnered a Golden Globe nod and it is well-deserved. Armas’ Marta is a nuanced, funny, sensitive, conspirator in a plot that could’ve isolated the audience but instead put us smack dab in the middle of a moral quagmire.

Only the best actors can pull this off. Lesser actors have us turn against them while they flounder. Marta’s role in the family drama is as an outsider. In spite of their insistence that she is one of them, she keeps her distance, only clinging to Harlan. She fell for Chris Evans’ charms briefly, and I applaud Rian Johnson for avoiding a romance between the two (we didn’t need it) and focusing instead on the emotional betrayal. Marta was a woman with her head screwed on straight. In spite of her, possible, nursing fumbles she was the only kind person Harlan had in his life. She would never risk her loyalty to him by engaging in some foolishness with Chris Evans’ hunky ass.

And I repeat, I don’t care about your thoughts regarding inheritance. It is silly to contest that Marta deserved nothing less than the full sum of the fortune (*spoiler*). She deserved everything. She deserved an existence in this country free from citizenship anxiety. She deserved a partner who loved her. She deserved a friend who didn’t kill himself to save her ass. Least of all, she deserved Chris Evans’ character to be better. But, he was a product of his shitty family. How could he be better?

Three names: Jamie. Lee. Curtis. I need her in at least seven to twelve projects in the coming year. She is a stand out among stand outs. She serves up the quintessential performance of a cold-hearted bitch that is so likeable that I will patiently await the spin-off. I need to know where her Linda Drysdale is now. If anyone in the family was able to land on their feet it was Linda. We all know it.

Linda was the only Thrombey child who had the guts to make it without a handout. Her loser husband, played by the ever-handsomer Don Johnson, was practically useless. Her loser brother, played by the unusually diminutive Michael Shannon, was the same. Her sister in law, played by the illustrious Toni Collette, had her head so far up her own ass that even Gwyneth Paltrow would blush.

Poor Linda. She was surrounded by idiots. I hope she’s doing ok.

And now, we’re at the end. I’ve tried my best to avoid any horrible spoilers. But I’ve also taken a deep dive into SJW’s so I might’ve gotten off track along the way...

In any event, this movie is good. And I can’t wait to see it again.

[jamiefairfaxisntcool]

/mu/core album review | Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

/mu/core album review #1

this week on /mu/core album review, we look at:

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Ah yes, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The album that’s mostly known as either, “that one weird album from the 90s,” or, “/mu/ basic bitch meme music.” If you’re anywhere past a casual music fan, you have most-likely heard some songs off this project, if not the whole thing, doubly so if you’re into 90s culture, Indie, or any sort of Art-Rock or Folk movements. As I type this, the most popular YouTube rip of the album has about 4.3 million views, a playlist separating each track stands at 500,000 views, and the title track has a remarkable 40,733,956 plays on Spotify. Holy shit, to put that into perspective: AV Club writes that, “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was originally slated to sell about 7,000 copies,” that’s roughly 5,819 times the predicted sales numbers of the album on just that song. This also means that this song has been listened to for approximately 131,163,338 minutes, a total of around 131,163,299 more minutes than the actual album length. Humanity has spent a collective 249 years listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Oh, and that’s just the title track.

If I couldn’t spell it out so clearly there, this album is fucking outrageously popular.

Even if you haven’t heard any material off the LP, this album is memed pretty heavily in the music corners of the internet. I don’t think I can find a single music meme page or forum that hasn’t jumped upon the ITAOTS or NMH bandwagon.

At this current point in time, ITAOTS has became a permanent resident in the zeitgeist of internet music culture. NMH, and by extension, it’s creator, Jeff Mangum have been elevated to a cult of personality status. The band and this project are accompanied by a never-ending choir: 15-25 year old sad white boys who cry while sing-screeching about semen and Anne Frank and poorly play open chords on their detuned Ibanez acoustics.

It’s oddly beautiful.

The album is so deceptively simple, so creatively cryptic and has all the elements of a slog faux-folk fest filled with whining that would bore me to so many tears that they could rival the sad boy indie kids who lose their e-girls to their more socially active explore-page bait counterparts. To a person not familiar with it, ITAOTS could look like an over hyped, masturbatory depression tape. It looks boring. It looks like it should be boring.

If it should be boring, then why have I only listened to it and absolutely nothing else for the last two days?

This isn’t a joke, I revisited the album of course to refresh myself before sitting down and writing this review. I kept listening, over the course of a school day, in-between production and songwriting sets, while playing games, and as I write this, I just finished my eighth spin of the record. Before those last two days, I had only listened to the album probably twice. 

I remember listening to it back in seventh grade and not particularly disliking it. I was really into Yes and a lot of other Prog and Psych bands, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the almost yuppie voice that Jeff had used on the record compared to vocal beasts like Freddie Mercury, Bowie, and Jon Anderson. Later on, I listened in freshman year, and I appreciated it much more, and had a few songs come up in my shuffle play, but thought nothing much of it.

Now, war had changed.

part 1: i’m the fucking carrot king

As I plopped down in my computer chair, my window crackled and banged like a distant firecracker with the smack of heavy rains on a Summer afternoon. I placed my headphones firmly atop my ears, closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I heard the opening chords of The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1 and tried not just to hear the instrumentation, but also pay attention to the lyrical content of Mr. Mangum.

When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

Okay, so what the fuck is actually happening here?

Upon my listens, I inferred that Jeff is speaking to another party here, most likely a female love interest, in what seemingly starts in a nostalgic tone. This sounds almost like a picturesque, coming-of-age, Americana film. Maybe one starring Molly Ringwald and River Phoenix, with a surprise cameo from someone famous back then like Jack Nicholson. Maybe John Candy, with a John Hughes script. Everything would have those faded out, classic colors, a hearkened back era. Quickly, by halfway through the first act, the tone shifts. A darker mood, a stark, grim reminder that life wasn’t always sunny and shinning in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor As we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for

The Mang informs us of a horrific family life, specifically about what seems to be his dad’s, stepmom’s, and stepsister’s interpersonal relationships. The lines are obvious and straightforward, the life of our protagonist was rife with unhealthy familial and sexual relationships, and a sense of love and sweetness was not found there. Keep that in mind when thinking about later songs such as Oh Comely.

After the somber intro of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1, we reach my personal least favorite track on the album: The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 and 3.

Look, I know the meme. “I LOOOOOOOOOVE JESUUUS CHUHRIEEEIISSSSTT,” and all that shit. I’m not even worked up about that line in particular, I just dislike Pt. 3. It’s the weakest of the upbeat songs on the album, with the weird yodel-screech voice that Gumman performs with really takes me out of the experience, which sucks because the buildup and atmosphere of Pt. 2 felt pretty amazing. Luckily, Pt. 3 is fairly short, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.

part 2: earth angel’s thesis

The title track for this album is one of the best songs on this album, no fucking contest. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Oh Comely, The Fool, and Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2 are top contenders when discussing this album. If you like the faster, fuzzier, upbeat songs you could probably substitute The Fool for Holland, 1945.

The title track has a familiar sounding chord progression and we can hear Gum from Jet Set Radio’s saccharine but yelp-y voice belt out from atop the mountains his undying love and admiration for... Anne Frank?

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

In the first verse, Geoff mentions meeting or viewing a beautiful person on this fleeting rock circling round the Sun. He also matches this with the idea that it’s truly futile for him to chase after this beauty, as it is only a dream that could escape him when he awakes. El Jefé has actually mentioned that some of his surrealist lyrics are derived from dreams. Perhaps these lines could imply a more literal dream fading? I don’t exactly know, all I know is what I interpreted.

The instrumentation of this piece is nothing straying from NMH’s usual repertoire: Mandrake on Guitar and Vocals, Scott Spillane on the Horns, Robert Schneider on Bass and Production, Julian Koster playing... something. What is he playing? Wait, give me a second.

He’s playing the Singing Saw? I thought it was like, a Theremin. What the fuck is a Singing Saw?

Oh.

Okay sure, you can play that, however the fuck you do that.

And finally we have Jeremy Barnes on Drums.

The personnel handle the music with a light, bouncy feeling, and the tone and timbre remind me of a faded, old, seaside town on the east coast. Another thing to mention is that the chord progression is G-Em-C-D; I-vi-IV-V. A funny thing I noticed is that this song shares a chord progression with tons of songs from the 50’s and early 60’s, which adds to the waning Americana feeling, but it more specifically shares that progression with Earth Angel by The Penguins. In the 80’s film, Back To The Future, Marvin Berry covers the song with his band for the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance where Marty’s dad and mom have to dance to ensure that the future stays intact. There’s no further real connection, but I thought that was kinda cool to mention.

After looking through the lyrics for In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, I will admit, as a brainlet Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 eluded me. Patrolling through Genius and some other reviews, I guess the consensus about this track was that it was about Anne Frank again? Manta Jeff’s cryptic lyricism continues to fool me. Besides the lyrics, this track mostly remains a piece of really good filler.

part 3: stop the military occupation of my brainwaves

The Fool is amazing, anyone who says it’s filler is wrong. I know I might anger some people by literally implying that Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 was filler, but seriously The Fool just makes me a feel a way. My brain creates a scene reminiscent of a depressing diesel-punk Les Misérables. Even though Scotch Spillage’s fantastic piece for horns is beautifully imperfect, it lacks lyrical content and is short and length. So, let’s instead talk about Holland, 1945.

This awesome, uptempo, almost punk-like piece of fuzzy brass is groovy son. It’s probably the song you could show someone not familiar with this project and they’d be like, “Oh, is this Cake? Why is the lead singer singing so high now?”

Holland, 1945 is a song that you can just listen for the instrumentation. Holland, 1945 is a song that promotes peace and love. There’s so many great things I can say about Holland, 1945. How it’s theme is so perfectly fitting for today’s political climate, how it manages to blend these psychedelic and bluesy timbres with a fast and loud sound and how well it continued the semi-conceptual narrative of Joff’s admiration and love for... Anne Frank.

Okay, fuck it, I have to say it. It’s bothered me ever since I discovered it.

Why Anne Frank? Like, I know why Anne Frank, but I mean like, why, y’know? I’ll say I admire Anne Frank, she was trying her best to live a normal life in a terrifying time to be alive, but I never wanted to fuck her. xxJeffxx’s mentions of Anne kind of make me raise an eyebrow. Especially because the album’s not just about her either. When he gets sexual, it’s difficult to determine whether he is mentioning a third party or Anne, which would be pretty weird, as she was 15 when she died and Heff was 28 when he wrote this. Maybe this is just some patrician music shit that I’m too plebeian to understand, like heated toilet seats or drinking for fun rather than to drown the pain. Maybe I haven’t sat down and watched enough flowery-squarespace-sponsored-lofi-hip-hop-muzak-using-pretentious video essayists to understand it, but what do I know.

part 4: the proletariat cries

To wrap on the second half of the album, this is the half that I cried in.

Communist Daughter is a good song, but with how short it is, it left me wanting more. This track is one of the few that actually features a soft-spoken Jeffen, and its open and dark but dreamy atmosphere left my jaw agape. The mountaintops weren’t the only thing stained.

Oh Comely, Oh Comely. Oh Comely is a song that deserves its own review. The lyrical chops of The Mangum Magnum are on full display as he belts somber, brutal verse after verse, with plenty of juxtaposition between sickening, sexual and vile situations alongside a description of a sweet, innocent young girl, just trying to survive with a guitar by her side. This beautiful, lovely girl gets taken advantage by someone, some people, perhaps even Yeff himself, only seen as an easy lay, a whore, like the ones her father visits often. He disgustingly describes semen in the garden, and her making miracles with her mouth, but I didn’t get a tone similar to so many songs about “sexual-empowerment.” The song is about self-deprecating depression leading to her being used, perhaps even abused. A situation all too real, too close to many of us. As I type this, I don’t know what to think. A woman should of course have individual sexual freedom, but this song doesn’t describe that. It describes trauma, emotional, psychological trauma. Meaningless sex, a rotten smell, staining the flower of a woman, all of this language that could be simply described as gross. This isn’t a happy song about fucking bitches. This song is about how a girl wanted to play music, pluck vines and was taken advantage of, reduced to her roots, and deflowered. Fuck. I wish I could save her. In some sort of time machine.

Two-Headed Boy could refer to a number of things. I have a head canon. This girl, Comely, is being used by the Two-Headed Boy for sexual favors. The Two-Headed Boy then “repays” her in friendship and music, playing their silly little songs. On the surface, Comely assumes the Two-Headed Boy trusts her and cares for her, but really all he wants is sex. Comely, living in a broken home and without a proper male figure in their life, is conned by the Two-Headed Boy, and just wants to live a normal life. Comely is trapped. She’s living in a place that is surrounded by the texture of scum and she knows it, she just can’t call upon the strength to leave. She’s trapped in a home, a ghetto, wanting to live a normal life, but she’s been placed here by the Two-Headed Boy, who knew her mother and father were broken, and she would be too. The Two-Headed Boy broke in, claimed to be her friend, and supports her, before defiling her. Comely was pretty, bright, and intelligent. She was just in a bad situation.

Comely was Anne Frank.

Not to say that they were literally one in the same, but I mean J. Mangum (private eye) is comparing two children, ripped from their lives by this awful world, and intertwining them, blurring the lines.

Who’s the Two-Headed Boy? As I said, it could be a number of people. Nazis, Peter van Pels, hell, even Jeff Manga himself could be the Two-Headed Boy. It doesn’t matter as long as we realize the relationship between oppressed and oppressor.

There is a glimmer of hope for Comely though. Read the closing words from Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2:

Two headed boy, she is all you could need She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires And retire to sheets safe and clean But don't hate her when she gets up to leave

Comely and the Two-Headed Boy split away from each other. Comely leaves the Two-Headed Boy, and the narrator says not to hate her when she leaves. On a deeper level, this could be an introspective Jeff Mangum relating on his past. I don’t really know.

outro

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

9/10

What did you think? Was I way off the mark, or do you agree? What should I have covered? What did you like, what did you dislike, I’m all ears. Leave a follow and a like if you liked it and I’ll see you on Wednesday.

[flusteredmountainman]

On the insidious hypocrisy of transmedicalism and colonial conditioning

I’m going to slap down a fairly long post about how transmedicalism is Fucking Bullshit today because I’ve been trying to pin down some of my thoughts and feelings for a wee while about it and I finally feel like I’m ready to articulate it.

CWs for use of the word h*mosexual (censored bc i have friends made uncomfortable by that word who ID as gay), conversion therapy, transmedicalism, colonialism, racism, transphobia, homophobia, trauma, violence mention, classism, ableism.

First off: truscum ideology makes no sense. Transmeds will preach and scream about how being trans* has nothing to do with biology; that gender is a psychological thing (which it is) but then will go on to say that if you don’t experience severe dysphoria you aren’t trans. This literally makes No Sense because if being trans has nothing to do with your biology and your physical attributes, then why should every trans person be forced to physically change their biology to fit binarist ideas of how bodies should look in relation to gender to prove themselves?

The base ideology is hypocritical at best and boot-licking/transphobic/cisnormative at worst: the idea that you have to experience (x) amount of trauma and discomfort to be trans only feeds into the cis narractive that trans people are traumatised, disturbed, othered individuals who have something “wrong” with them or that they’re “degenerate” - this conflation of being trans as being a mental illness is literally a rhetoric used by cishets dating back decades in psychology circles to treat being gay/trans/what-have-you as a sickness that can be cured. People used to be diagnosed as h*mosexual to justify putting them through conversion therapy to cure them of what was perceived as moral degeneracy. The same can be said for being trans. By pushing this rhetoric transmeds are admitting that they agree that being trans is Abnormal - that no one could ever want to be trans or be happy being trans because it’s so far removed from everything polite society considers “normal”. To support these ideas is to incite violence against your trans brothers, sisters, and siblings: it is disgusting and ignorant and smacks of internalised transphobia.

Not only that but transmedicalism as an ideology is also inherently racist! Truscum are uplifting binarism as a structure that was introduced into many societies by colonial powers that systematically erased native and indigenous identities that have always existed - by saying that these identities as well as non-binary identities (for which terms were created in response to debunking the idea that you can only be one gender or another in specifically western contexts) aren’t valid you are literally acting as a tool of colonialism. You are contributing to the cultural destruction and ongoing colonisation of indigenous cultures and identities. By supporting these ideas you are inherently saying that you support white supremacist structures of power and oppression founded not only upon race but also gender, ability, class and oppression of LGBT+ people. You are playing into white supremacy and you are actively inciting racist and pro-colonialist violence towards trans and gender diverse people of colour. 

It’s also no coincidence that it’s classist: as I mentioned before. The idea that you have to transition to be trans hinges upon the assumption that there is equal  opportunity and access for every person to transition: which many people don’t for many reasons including that it’s expensive, in my country only one surgeon can perform surgeries at all (literally inaccessible), many people can’t afford to take time off work, many people have various disabilities or illnesses that literally mean they cannot transition if they may want to: all this not even considering that some people may not want to physically transition. When we consider that combined with the institutional oppression people face for their race that means many, many people of colour are living in poverty due to their families being trapped in the poverty cycle and intergenerational trauma from colonialism, it’s no coincidence that the people impacted by this bullshit ideology the most are trans* people of colour! Plus disabled trans* people and disabled trans* people of colour! It’s disgustingly ableist, racist and classist and just reveals how these people don’t give a single shit about any trans* person who isn’t white and ablebodied.

There is already so much prejudice and oppression that trans and gender diverse people face in our society already it just doesn’t make any sense for transmeds to play the oppression olympics. Your experiences are not universal! Just because you experience extreme dysphoria doesn’t mean that people who don’t are not valid in their identity. Gender euphoria is equally important and besides gender as a construct is a fucked up concept anyway, so why are y’all sucking up so hard to the Cissies TM! Please get over yourself and examine why the hell you feel the need to pull other trans people down with you: you are a deeply sick, sad individual if you see someone else being proud of who they are and feel the need to knock them down a peg just because you’re in pain, and you aren’t above being a transphobe just because you’re trans!

All this to say that if you proudly self-ID as a transmed/truscum you can literally choke and die and you will never in any way be welcome on my blog! Same to Terfs y’all can fuck off too.

Cis people do Not add to this or I will Come for you I do Not want to hear your opnions on this: nothing you say can meaningfully contribute to this conversation so please just reblog to amplify trans* voices. 

[parkeraul]

hunger – grease!shawn

a/n: anon suggested me grease!shawn on my askbox and as an obsessed person that i am for the 60′s, here i am trying this one little thing. depending on the feedbacks, this might turn into a series. let me know if you like it. pairing: shawn x reader.  words: 1,594 warning: hints of badboy!shawn and badgirl!reader ahead. boldness is going to be well appreciated in here, my dudes. 

One by one, all of the guys were climbing the bleachers to chill after an intense class. A couple of them quickly grabbing cigarettes, enjoying the opportunity as they couldn’t find that familiar figure of the inspector trailing her way all around the schoolyard looking for people to chastise.  Matt appeared right after, bringing soda drinks to everyone and throwing the cans to his friends and Connor followed, fixing his denim jacket as soon as he made his way to the top.  “Where did you get this?” Brian asked, frowning.  “Uhm... my mom got me this.” He could feel the judgemental stare of the boys nearly turning his body into flames as he checked his own outfit. “Had to drop my leather jacket for laundry...” He tried to justify, tilting his head down in shyness.  “Oh!” Ian aggressively held him by the shoulder and wiggled his limbs after whining. “Is momma’s little boy going to show up in diapers tomorrow too?”  “Shut up!” Connor’s arms tried to push Ian away. “This is trending right now, okay?”  “This is pretty much why the both of you haven’t had sex in 3 months.” Shawn’s raspy voice called them out, teasing them and smirking right after. He pointed his chin to a couple of girls looking up at them and grimacing after walking away.  Everybody in that school knew them. Guys would die to be a part of the crew and girls were always daydreaming about them during classes. Even though they used to give the teachers a hard time, they all had a special place in their hearts as well at the end of the day. And it could be shown by the way the gym teacher complimented their performances in a discreet mode or by the way the biology teacher tried hard to hold back a laugh everytime they joked during a test.  People could either eat them up... or hate the group to death. There was no place in between.  The ones who hated had to hate in silence so they wouldn’t get a taste of Brian’s stupid jokes or Ian’s threatens.  “Why is your girlfriend taking so long?” Shawn spoke in a firm tone, bringing Brian back to reality. “Test happens next class and she’s still not here with her fuckin’ notes.”  "Isn’t she down in there running like a dork?” Matt asked and everyone looked down.  She was hanging out with her old friends Lisa and Claire but holding hands with someone... new.  Lisa seemed to feel annoyed by the situation, so she saved herself from being a part of the party by holding her hands behind her back. Claire and Wendy were carrying the new girl around the school with rushed steps as they talked to her excitedly. Apparently, they were showing her all the spots and places inside the school before french class.  The girl couldn’t help being dragged by the two other loud girls and the grouchy one following behind with eyes constantly rolling. Everybody burning her silhouette with hungry and curious eyes as the skirt of her beautiful dress kept on swaying helplessly because, when her legs weren’t tiptoeing fast across the schoolyard, the wind used to show up a little bit rougher just to collapse against the fabric so it could draw the air with the pretty little patterns of her cloth.  They were all smiles and laughs, curiously studying her eyeliner, the style of her hair, the colour on her lips and the new girl pretended to listen whatever they were talking about as her eyes decided to get lost up in there by the bleachers.  “Who are they?” Capturing at least 5 different pairs of eyes inspecting her, she whispered softly to the girls without breaking eye-contact.  “Shawn Mendes’ stupid gang.” Lisa finally decided to speak, still keeping distance.  “Stupid, huh?” She could barely blink now, trying to confirm the ‘stupid’ concept by finding any typical boyish action.  “They’re not stupid...” Wendy said, toying with her dress to avoid looking Lisa in the eyes.  “You say this because your boyfriend is a part of the clownery.” Lisa calls her out once again, giving the boys a disgusting look and they all look away, except for the curly-haired one.  They start arguing and she seizes the moment to put up an internal challenge of who would dare to look away first?  No need to say that he had the same thing in mind.  “Mendes!” Matt called and he just mumbled a quick ‘Hm?’ “Clean up your chin, man.”  Worried, Shawn raises an eyebrow and has to give up on glancing at the pretty girl surrounded by Wendy’s friends.  “Why?” His hand makes the way up to touch his skin and everyone starts to laugh.  “You’re drooling all over the outsider!” Connor shouted and quickly covered his mouth when he saw Shawn’s fingers making a fist.  “Someone’s getting over Ashley!” Ian teases and the guys are now gathering around to make fun of him while they could.  Because Shawn had been always wearing this serious look on his face and acting like a leader so he would never be seen as the foolish member of the squad – and then nobody would ever try to confront him. And the boys learned to treat him like this after finding out that he wasn’t quite the polite guy when people stepped on his damn nerves.  Lots of hands shaking his body relentlessly and he kept the flat look on his expression, breathing deeply and bringing two fingers between his rosy lips, whistling loud and making the boys step back, fixing all of the jackets and hairs as they kept on joking silently.  Wendy catches Shawn’s eyeballs peeking her and he opens his arms in complain, quietly waiting for her to get the hint of his impatience kicking in.  Wendy finds the stairs and goes upwards, promptly taking a small paper from one of her pockets and giving it to Shawn. When he’s about to grab it, she pulls back.  “Three magic words?” Wendy asks, lips slightly apart as her hand goes to the back of her earshell, waiting for the answer.  “Gimme this shit.” His thick arm stretches towards her, palm open to receive the note as he speaks through gritted teeth.  “Wrong answer, mister.” Wendy turns to steal a quick peck from Brian’s lips and hides the paper filled with the answers to the french test inside the pocket of his black shirt. “Pass it on if he behaves.”  Lisa, Claire and Y/N are down in there near the trees. Lisa checks on her nails and Claire tells the new girl about how lovely Connor is and how she thinks that the rest of the group is about to ruin his innocence. Clearly a crush. And she’s not the only one with a crush.  Wendy has to stop in the middle of her way downstairs.  “Who’s that girl?” Shawn’s tone asks her rigidly.  “What girl?” Wendy plays the fool.  “Don’t fuckin’ make me ask you twice.” He throws and Brian is about to affront. Shawn notices and acts ‘cool’ to avoid fighting his best friend, still keeping his unmistakable attitude. “That one in the pink dress!” He points harshly and then lets his palm smack down against his thigh covered by the tight jeans, trying to vanish away the stress somehow.  Down by the trees, the conversation goes the same way.  “Who’s the curly boy?” She asks and Claire is quick to answer, just like when you ask someone about The Beatles: they could tell you all the details from head to toe by heart.  “Shawn Mendes, the one and only.”  “Her name is Y/N. But you don’t wanna get out with her.” Wendy says.  “But you don’t wanna get out with him.” Claire unconsciously imitates.  “Why not?”  “Her brother is a senior! He’s always bookin’ inside this amazing Camaro and he picks her up after the last classes everyday. You don’t wanna piss him off, believe me. He’s super duper jealous!” Wendy explains.  “He’s a piece of shit.” Lisa gets in the middle and warns. “He broke up with Ashley last summer and I had never seen anyone cry that much after vacation.”  “And no one could ever date him. He’s out of everyone’s leagues.” Claire vents, exhaling deeply. “Lucky ones who ever got their chance to place a kiss right onto his beautiful lips...”  “EW! Seriously, stop that or I’m going to throw up right here right now.” Lisa interrupts and she’s back at glancing him one more time.  As his greenish eyes move to catch hers, she can listen something about how unreal his skills were when things came to music and he could hear how she easily learned 4 languages during her whole life.  “She’s a fox!” Matt slips out... “He’s a hunk!” And Claire copies the context again.  “But you better watch out, ‘cause he’s a badass.” Lisa finishes.  “Go slow, she’s a badass.” Wendy gives her final information.  “Maybe we should see about that.” Both Y/N and Shawn are letting these words fly away from their lips in response and the inspector shows up to call everyone’s attention to head back to their classes. The guys were putting the cigarettes down, the girls were rearranging their skirts and people started walking back to the building.  Classroom filled with nervous students as the teacher walks in.  “Bonjour.” The teacher spoke flatly.  “Bonjour, professeure!” Y/N answers, catching her by surprise.  Well, not only her.  Maybe someone’s not going to need notes in a paper anymore. 

[lantsovnazyalenski]

i don't love you but i always will

okay, so this is operating on the assumption that somewhere between Nikolai's engagement and the day of the wedding, Zoya actually realizes she loves him.... which might be a stretch but here we are

I'm also going to pretend/assume that Ehri is going to agree to the wedding on her own free will... cause yeah

Zoya’s gown was a low-cut sapphire blue, glittering as the light caught on the beads of her skirt. Her hair was styled to one side, loose black curls cascading down her shoulder, held in place by hairpins. She was radiant, if not for the hollowness she felt inside, the dullness of her eyes.

Fortunately, no one would pay attention to her eyes as long as they were staring at her plunging neckline. Practical as ever.

And maybe she wanted to outdress the bride. Just a little bit.

It was almost disappointing when Nikolai didn’t seem to notice. She knew he had other things on his mind, pacing the floor when she entered his chambers, a deep frown on his face – yet, she’d hoped to garner some sort of reaction. It was like begging for scraps that would never satisfy her, and she felt angry at herself all over again. She was above begging.

But he asked her here. And when he looked at her, his eyes just a little wild, every reminder to repress and deny that she spent so long internalizing flew out the window. She was a stupid lonely girl again, preparing to watch the man she loved marry someone else.

“Zoya,” he breathed, her name a hopeless sigh on his lips. He didn’t seem to notice her attire, only that she was here. “I don’t want to do this.”

There it was. She knew he had his reservations about a political marriage, idealistic Nikolai and his desire to marry for love, but she thought he had accepted his duty when he proposed to marry the Shu princess himself. He’d mentioned nothing of it since, donning a graciously resigned approach, a self-sacrificing king, and Zoya wondered if he truly made his peace. He made sure to be kind to his bride, taking her on walks in the palace gardens, eating with her in his chambers in the morning; a fact Zoya tried to begrudgingly accept. Nikolai didn’t want to be enemies with his wife, and she didn’t wish him an unhappy marriage. But seeing Nikolai slowly replace her in his life stung.

She hadn’t realized how much she relied on their small routines until she lost them.

Now she realized his acceptance was all an act. A king was always acting – but no part of Nikolai truly made peace with this.

And what was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to appease him? Tell him he could do it, that he had to? Tell him Ravka needed it? Nikolai already knew that. That was not what he wanted to hear from her.

She didn’t know what he wanted, in truth. He knew she would not coddle him, would not sugarcoat it for him. What then? Did he want her to give him a stern speech? Did he want her to smack him upside the head and yell at him that he could not, will not call off the wedding a mere hour before it began?

She was so, so tired of telling him he had to marry. So tired of ignoring the painful twist of her heart, denying the quickening of her pulse. It was not fair that the stability of Ravka meant never having one of the few things she wanted for herself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed, steel in her voice. Anger was familiar. Easier than entertaining thoughts that made her chest hurt. It was hard enough to watch this happen, did she really have to convince him to go through with it too? “You know you have to.”

“I have to marry a woman I don’t want, don’t love, doesn’t love me, is that what I have to do?”

“For your people and your country? Yes, you do.”

It was like he didn’t hear her. Nikolai stepped forward, gripping her arm, Zoya’s breath catching at the unexpected proximity. The anguish in his eyes hurt her more than she cared to admit; she didn’t want this for him, and not only because she loved him. She hated to see his misery.

“I need a reason,” he said, his gaze boring into hers, searching for something. The excuse he needed, perhaps. “I need – Tell me not to marry her. Tell me you don’t want me to.”

Of course, she didn’t. But it didn’t matter what she wanted. Or who she wanted. How could she put herself above Ravka, above the Grisha who needed her? Was she supposed to just take what she wanted like the Darkling? With no consideration to anything or anyone? Was that what she was supposed to do?

The ancient beast stirred inside her.

Take what you want. You’re more than capable.

Zoya shook herself out of it and pushed the dragon back inside the cage she put him in. No. She would not give in.

“You need a queen,” she said simply, neither accepting nor refusing his request.

And why would he care anyway? Was he so desperate for a reason, an excuse? If he thought she would give him an out, he was sorely mistaken – she wouldn’t validate his delusions.

“I already have one.”

She sucked in a breath and moved away on instinct. Nikolai’s hand fell from her arm limply, its absence burning.

He doesn’t mean it. He just wants to get out of this. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nikolai,” she snapped again, sharper than before. “This isn’t a game. You’re a king, act like it.”

She knew she wounded him, but it was for the best. He drew back, nodding a couple of times, like telling himself she was right. His posture was all wrong, defeated and slouching. So uncharacteristically unsure. She may have wished to knock his ego down a couple of times during their partnership but now she hated it, wished for his easy confidence and nonchalant arrogance back. Nothing would be the same after this, would it?

“Of course,” he murmured, painfully resigned. “I understand.”

She thought she should say something but soft, reassuring words weren’t part of her vocabulary, even if it hurt to see him like this. They got stuck in her throat and cut her up inside. A bleeding mess of a girl stood in her place.

Nikolai turned away to fiddle with his jacket in the mirror, a gentle but obvious dismissal, and Zoya took her cue. She walked away with a terrible feeling in her gut that she was missing something.

The ceremony was grand as anyone would expect it. No detail out of place, no extravagance spared – no matter their financial struggles. It would be unseemly for the young king of Ravka to have anything but a pompous wedding; after all, he would only have one. By now, Zoya didn’t care about the unnecessary excesses of it all. She just wanted it over with. She watched Nikolai standing at the altar, waiting for his bride to be, none of the signs of distress from earlier displayed on his handsome face. A small mercy, at least. He couldn’t very well look miserable in front of hundreds of their guests.

Eyes of both men and women followed Zoya as she stood to the side with Genya and David, but it hadn’t felt as satisfying as she thought it would. She always looked breath-stopping, that was nothing new. It was boring. Why did she think outshining the bride mattered at all; it changed nothing. Perhaps she would have cared more if she didn’t only have eyes for Nikolai. A small wistful and childish part of her thought she would not give a damn if no one ever looked her way twice, as long as Nikolai did.

But these kinds of thoughts belonged to a blushing gentle lady, not a commander loyal to her king. Zoya did her best to dismiss them.

I’m letting you go, she thought, stubborn and willful and determined. His back was to her when Ehri walked down the aisle towards him and placed her hands in his. I’m letting you go.

You’d give him up so readily?

He isn’t mine to keep, she replied then, but maybe he was, a little bit.

Standing beside him, always a soldier at his side. Now she was standing behind him, disconnected. He was close, yet it felt like they were miles apart. I’m letting you go, she repeated once more, squeezed her fists, and tried to believe it. They never could have been anything, it wasn’t – when Nikolai called her his queen, he was desperate. Exaggerating. Anything to get out of this marriage he never wanted.

Perhaps he hadn’t even realized what he was implying.

But if – if he meant it? If he longed for her like she longed for him, if he loved her like she –

Useless thoughts, she reminded herself, but it was hard to watch this. Harder than she thought. No amount of rationalizing had prepared her for this in the end. She should have said yes, should have told him not to marry her. He’d asked her, he’d begged her. Why hadn’t she? Selflessness or fear? Both?

She couldn’t watch this.

And what? she barked at herself, angry at these thoughts. What? You’ll interrupt the ceremony now? Right here in front of everybody? Hundreds of guests gathered from everywhere, and you’ll pour your heart out and beg him to marry you, or at least not marry her? As if, she scoffed.

But wouldn’t that be a story for the ages? the dragon in her snickered.

She ignored it. Just keep your head up and hold your tongue; suffer in silence. It was almost over.

Was it? something dark echoed inside her. The ceremony will be over and then came the celebrations: the music, the dancing, the cake, the toasts, the jokes about the wedding night and the little heirs Ehri will eventually bear. You’ll go back to your chambers and he’ll go back to his bed that he shared with his wife to perform his marital duty. Then you’ll wake up and he’ll eat breakfast with his wife and dine with his wife and go to sleep with his wife, and you’ll see him during meetings and discussions and nothing more. You’ll be nothing, maybe friends, if that. And Ehri will give him children, little golden boys like Nikolai, and you’ll wonder, always pining, for what could have been. It was never going to be over.

Her chest felt tight and she couldn’t breathe. It felt a little like dying, and abruptly, she didn’t think she could do this for the rest of her life. Despise your heart. If only it was that easy.

“Nikolai,” she gasped under her breath, but no one heard her. She spoke up again, louder, and now he turned to look at her as the priest paused in his speech, glancing up from his book. “Nikolai.”

He looked at her cautiously, wondering.

What are you doing?

There was a hush in the church that was deafening, and she felt the stares of everyone on her, waiting, like the calm before a storm. Genya was stiff beside her and David shifted awkwardly on his feet. But Zoya could only see Nikolai, her eyes pleading, apologetic, desperate, a little ruined. His hand fell from Ehri’s and there was a distant gasp and murmurs from the wedding crowd.

Choose me.

She didn’t speak but he never broke their gaze, and she saw his eyes grow wide as he seemed to lean an inch towards her. In that moment, she thought he understood.

Choose me. Love me.

Ehri cleared her throat and the spell was broken. Nikolai snapped his gaze back to his bride and Zoya felt the air leave her lungs in a whoosh as her heart shattered. The room was suddenly buzzing with whispers, every pair of eyes trained on her, making her skin crawl. Stupid little girl, they seemed to say. Did you think he would choose you? She felt ridiculous. Too young, too foolish.

What the hell were you thinking? she berated herself, furious. You know better. You don’t act like this.

Why didn’t you commit to it? wondered the dragon in contrast. You limit yourself too much.

Zoya breathed in and out slowly, attempting to compose herself. Steel your heart, straighten your spine, lift your chin. Eyes cold and emotionless. Ignore the stares of everyone around you. You could do this. The show had to go on.

Then the church doors blew open and everything went to chaos.

[strwberrytae]

Addiction | 01

→ pairing: jungkook x reader → genre: drama | m for mature → words: 4.2k → a/n: this is a repost from my old blog but I completely forgot about this series. my goal is to continue it, so here is the introduction. disclaimer: there are mentions of an escort service. this is not a promotion of prostitution of any kind. this is strictly fiction and should be seen as such. read at your own discretion.

→ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03

→ summary: To say that someone is addicted to something can be either an exaggeration or so far from the appropriate term; it can be terrifying. At first, he seemed cute, playful; even attractive. But by the end of the month, you just dreaded the thought of telling him that you couldn’t satisfy him anymore. Rather, you dreaded the thought of admitting to yourself that you were just as addicted to him as he was to you.

“Addiction is defined by tolerance, withdrawal, and craving. We recognize addiction by a person’s heightened and habituated need for a substance; by the intense suffering that results from discontinuation of its use; and by the person’s willingness to sacrifice all (to the point of self-destructiveness).”

“Y/N, can you hand me that brush please? I can’t reach it.” The words were just a string of muffled words in the background that your mind couldn’t seem to focus on. Only one of the members had shown up to get their hair and makeup started and you were in a complete daze. Getting only two hours of sleep can do that to a person. It wasn’t easy working two jobs but it was your night job that always drained you - in more ways than one.

“Yah! I’ll just get it myself,” your friend, Kimi, huffed as she stopped tending to Jin’s makeup. He sat there laughing to himself as he took notice of your lack of concentration. He was always the first one in the chair to get everything done, so this wasn’t an uncommon situation.

“Long night, Noona,” he asked in a caring voice, amusement apparent on his tongue. Giving him that all-too-familiar look, you sighed and shook yourself awake.

“Jin, I told you not to call me that. I’m only a year older than you. It makes me feel old,” you whined in a tired voice. He shrugged his broad shoulders, causing Kimi to smack him lightly to stay still as she applied his eyeliner.

“But you are technically my Noona. It’s the respectful thing to do,” he said in a nice tone. Jin was always too sweet for his own good. Although at the same time, you knew damn well that he also did it to get under your skin. Some of the guys may have heard a little conversation amongst you and the other stylists about how much you loved being called Noona. The others didn’t understand it and neither did you, but something about hearing someone attractive calling you that little nickname gave you chills.

“The respectful thing to do, Seokjin, is to not call me that. I want you to be informal with me. All of you.” Jin let out a defeated sigh and pouted his lips.

“Fine. I don’t think the others will be able to agree so easily. Right, Jungkookie?” Jin let out a little laugh as Jungkook walked into the room. He was already blushing and averted his gaze from yours. The moment you saw him, you let your guard up. It was so hard to explain but something about his presence always intimidated you. Not to mention, it infuriated you. This isn’t like you; submissive. A submission given to someone that you weren’t involved with to top it all off. It didn’t make any sense to you; but you had no control.

“Good morning, Noona,” Jungkook said in a timid voice as he took his seat in the chair you had ready for him. You swallowed hard but tried not to make it obvious that his words made you nervous. A smirk eased on Jin’s face and he laughed to himself.

“I told you,” Jin said under his breath. Jungkook turned and gave him a look, just as you sent Jin a glare. As you began to run your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, he leaned his head back to look at you. His face was so innocent with a soft smile, but there was still a shyness behind it.

“Do you not like being called Noona…Noona,” he added with a slight laugh. He couldn’t help but to still call you the name out of respect but the irony was amusing to him. Your breath staggered for a brief moment as he spoke. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you put your hands on the sides of his head and angled it back downward. Without looking at him, you resumed doing his hair.

“Sit still, Jungkook,” you said in a stern voice. Your internal dominant nature took over and you felt that you had control of the situation again. It was always a struggle being a switch. Most times, you craved being submissive but others, you’re natural dominant side demanded control over others. There was a stiff tension in the air; an apparent understanding that the boys knew you weren’t in the mood for games. Jin looked at Jungkook at the corner of his eye and chuckled under his breath. The maknae’s cheeks turned crimson red as he silenced himself. A small smirk twitched on your lips from your triumph.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the boys to start hustling into the large dressing room. The room was filled with loud, boisterous laughter and music from someone’s phone. This was a normal, everyday situation, so it never really bothered you. The only peculiar thing about it was the continuing stillness from the man before you. Jungkook had put in his earphones to block out the noise around him; as if he needed a distraction. Typically, he would play a game on his phone but he was just staring ahead - fidgeting with his fingers.

Curiosity got the best of you but also guilt. You didn’t think that you’re sharp tone would affect him so much. Perhaps if you gave him a smile, he would know that you weren’t truly upset with him. Turning him around in the swiveling chair, Jungkook’s gaze immediately fell downward once again. You smiled to yourself thinking he was being cute; as always. To apply a subtle amount of eyeliner, you grabbed your brush and the little black jar from the vanity behind you. Knowing he wasn’t paying attention to what you were doing next, you took one of his earphones out of his ear to grasp his attention. With a gentle touch, you lifted his chin to look at you. His doe-like brown eyes looked at you timidly.

“I’m going to apply your eyeliner now, Kookie. Okay,” you asked softly; giving him a sense that you were being tender and not stern. The maknae swallowed hard and nodded shakily. He was practically trembling in your touch. A questioning twitch in your eyebrow made him look down again.

Wow… I really fucked up this time, you thought to yourself. You set down your utensils and kneeled before him to meet him at eye level. Cupping his face, you redirected his attention to you.

“Hey. I’m not upset with you. I could never be mad at you. You’re too sweet for your own good.” Your tone was amiable and gentle. A soft laugh purred from your lips, causing him to blush. Jungkook softened but he still seemed uncomfortable. You didn’t realize you were lightly brushing your thumb against his sharp jawline. He re-situated his arms to cover his lap. This made you look down slightly to see what he was doing; curiosity striking you. Before you could see the real reason as to why he couldn’t look at you in this moment, Namjoon walked up and put his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I need to talk to Kookie about something. Could you finish his makeup later,” he asked in a mildly authoritative tone. You looked up at the tall blonde and stood. Something was off but you didn’t want to question it.

“No. It’s okay. I can just finish now. It’ll only take a second. I promise.” Jungkook let out a sigh at your words. Namjoon continued to stand there which really confused you even further. Was he protecting him or something? Something wasn’t right; or perhaps you were overthinking things as usual. Either way, you quickly applied the black eyeliner and the maknae obediently let you do so. The moment you announced that you were done, Jungkook left your chair in a rush; thanking you politely as he left. Kimi walked over to you as you watched Namjoon put his arm around the maknae to begin their conversation.

“Is it just me or was that really weird,” you asked your friend. The petite girl leaned back on the vanity beside you and crossed her arms as she watched them as well.

“You’ve worked for them long enough to know that everything they do is weird. Don’t stress about it.” She says that as if it’s that easy. Of course you’re going to stress about it. You like to think that you know Jungkook well enough to know when something is wrong. It doesn’t help that Namjoon was acting weird as well. As the boys scurry out of the room, you let it go. You hope that after their performance, whatever is on his mind will be put to ease. No matter how much you deny your feelings for Jungkook, you can’t deny that you do care about him - more than you should.

[ Jungkook’s POV ]

“We have a surprise for you,” Namjoon says with a grin on his face. The boys stand in the hall just outside of the door that would lead them to the stage. Jungkook looks at Namjoon and Jimin, who are smiling back at him mischievously. He raises his eyebrow to them.

“Should I be scared,” he asks as a joke but also seriously wondering. His friends laugh to themselves.

“You’ll like it. Trust me,” Jimin assures the maknae. “It’s your coming of age! Hyung and I talked it over and we thought it would be a really good idea to do something a little different this year. We’ll still throw you a party but as for your present, we all chipped in to give you only one gift this year.” Jungkook nodded as he listened. He didn’t want them to buy him anything but he knew they were going to anyways. He had turned of age a year ago but had to wait to celebrate his coming of age the following year as it only came once a year.

“I-I really don’t need anything. Just a cake and dinner will make me happy,” he replied, trying to sound convincing. He had one gift in mind but he knew that it wasn’t realistic, nor could they give it to him.

“You need to forget about her, Kookie,” Namjoon said bluntly. Jungkook looked at the leader with wide eyes, wondering if he could read his mind. His shoulders sagged slightly in defeat. He knew he was right. Jungkook had the biggest crush on you. He knew deep down that there was no way that you could possibly reciprocate his feelings but he couldn’t help himself. You were beautiful and sweet but also had this mystery about you. It made him want to know every little secret about you.

Every time he sat in your chair was absolute torture. He made sure to listen to the music on his phone to drown out the voices around him so he could really focus on you. As you brushed and styled his hair, he stared at your features. As you applied his makeup, making him look at you, he stared at every beautiful flaw on your face. The way you bit your bottom lip when you were concentrating. The little sighs you exhaled as if you were pleased with yourself. The softness in your eyes as you followed every line on his face. He wanted you so badly and sometimes, his body couldn’t help but to show how much. Today was no exception to his reaction towards you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said sheepishly, trying to laugh slightly. Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“We all know you like Y/N. You don’t hide it well but that doesn’t matter anymore. Tonight, we’re taking you to this private club and you’re going to forget about her once and for all.” Now Jungkook was really confused.

“What kind of club,” he asked. Jimin smirked at his friend.

“Don’t ask questions. Just trust us. We’ll take you after the show. Shower, change into something nice, and wear cologne.”

“But wh-”

“Don’t ask questions, Kookie. Just do as we say,” Namjoon said assertively with a slight laugh. The maknae shut his mouth and nodded. None of this made any sense but it was clear that they weren’t going to tell him where he was going.

After the show, Jungkook felt a bolt of energy as he always did. The thrill and rush from the crowd and the performance always heightened his stamina. If anything, the adrenaline made him eager for whatever his friends had in store for him. He rushed back to the dressing room to do as he was told. When he noticed that you had already packed your things and left for the night, he felt very disappointed. He wanted to apologize for his behavior earlier and talk a little before he left.

Another part of him hoped that you saw his performance. Every hip thrust, lip bite, and wink was for you; even if it shouldn’t have been. He thought of you in the crowd watching him, lusting over him. Just thinking about it made his pants tighten as his arousal grew beneath his jeans. Jimin poked his head into the dressing room.

“Yah! Get ready! We have to be there in forty minutes,” he yelled at the door. Jungkook jumped slightly.

“Sorry. I’ll be right there,” he yelled back. Crawling out of his daze, he hurried to clean up and get dressed. Something told him that tonight would be really good for him. He’s wanted you for so long and maybe it was time to move on. Yes, he was a man now, but he knew you would never see him that way. You were older but that didn’t matter to him. You were a beautiful girl that he wanted to be with but that didn’t mean that you wanted to be with him.

In record time, Jungkook was ready to go. He decided to wear a black t-shirt tucked into his black leather pants. His dark brown hair was parted slightly off to the side and his eyes had a hint of eyeliner. A mature look that he thought would be fitting for the occasion. He didn’t want to dress up too much because he didn’t know how formal tonight was supposed to be but he felt it was also casual enough. When he stepped outside to meet with his friends, they clapped and whistled.

“Daebak! Yes. That’s perfect. She’ll love it,” Namjoon said with a sly smile. Jungkook froze.

“She. Who’s she,” he asked nervously. “Where are you taking me?” Jimin smiled to his friend and walked over to guide him to the car.

“Didn’t we say to trust us? If we tell you, it won’t be a surprise. You don’t want to ruin your birthday present, do you?” Unfortunately, he didn’t. Reluctantly, Jungkook got into the car and every exciting nerve he had was gone; now replaced with anxiety and fear. Did they set him up on a blind date? That’s all he could think of. Although, the idea wasn’t entirely the worst thing to him. It made perfect sense. His friends wanted him to move on and what a better way to do so than by meeting someone else. A soft smile twitched on his lips at the thought. He didn’t want to forget about you but he knew he had to.

Namjoon pulled up to a black windowless building. All that was visible was the black door with a small, adjustable panel to speak to someone and the word “Yen” etched in cursive in blue neon lights above it. Curious of the name “Yen” - strong want. Jungkook stared out the window to decipher what this place was. He had never seen it before and he felt that he has seen mostly everything in Seoul by now. Namjoon and Jimin looked back at him and laughed slightly.

“Come on. You’re not going to know what it is until we get inside,” Jimin said as he climbed out the car. Timidly, Jungkook got out and proceeded with caution.

“Is it an elite restaurant or something,” he asked as his curiosity came out anyways. Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly as he knocked three distinctive times on the door.

“Or something,” he replied. The window panel opened and a tall man appeared in sight.

“Jeon Jungkook is here for his appointment. We’re here to escort him inside,” Namjoon said professionally to the man. The man looked the three over to observe them.

“No one else is allowed inside. Just him,” he said in a deep, stern voice. Jimin didn’t like that answer very much and knew the maknae wouldn’t either.

“Can’t at least one of his walk him in? He’s celebrating his coming of age. It’s his first time.” The emphasis on “first time” raised Jungkook’s eyebrow. There seemed to be an innuendo in his choice of words. The bouncer looked over Jimin’s smaller and gentle frame; easily submitting to his cuteness as he flashed him a sweet smile.

“Fine. You and him. The tall one has to stay outside. And you’re not allowed in his chamber.”

“Chamber,” Jungkook whispered in question. The man opened the door to let them in. Jungkook stood still, so Namjoon put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You’ll be taken care of very well here. Jimin and I have both been here before. Just trust us, okay?” Jungkook looked at his hyung and nodded slowly. He definitely knew now that whatever this place was had nothing to do with a blind date. At least not a typical one.

[ Your POV ]

“Good evening, Y/N,” the chipper and perky receptionist said to you as you walked into work. You smiled at her and waved back.

“Hey Suri! How’s it looking tonight,” you asked as you approached her desk. The tiny, young woman took out a clipboard and flipped to a page with your information on it.

“It looks like you have someone new tonight,” she said with amusement on her face.

“Someone new? Just the one?” Your voice held worried in its breath. A new client meant one of two things; either a larger payment to cover your usual three in a night or you would have to make up the money with an extra shift. Suri could sense your worry and smiled as she set down the board.

“Don’t worry. They paid very well. You could probably take off tomorrow night if you wanted to from the looks of it.” You perked up and smiled from this.

“They paid that well?”

“They paid double your rate. He’s set for the premium package.” You bit your bottom lip with a grin as your heart was already beaming with joy. The premium package consist of a full night with you until dawn. This would take care of your rent for the next three months.

“Go! He’ll be ready soon. He’s filling out the paperwork as we speak.” With a pleased smirk, you winked at your giggling friend.

“Thanks Suri! I’ll see you in the morning.” Your friend shook her head and laughed as you scurried off to your room.

The hall to your assigned room was quiet as usual. Silent proof rooms; not even the buzzing from the overhead lights to distract anyone. Just the anticipation or anxiety for what was to come. Tonight, it was pure excitement. You desperately needed to blow off some steam. Your day job had you so wound tight, you felt like you were going to explode.

Here, in this place, you could leave that person behind. You were a completely different person here. Yen, the elite and private club for any person’s wildest fantasy to come true. You were in control. You set your rules and they were to follow them. You were admired and worshiped from the ground up. It started off as a one night a week thing; just a little extra cash to help pay for bills. But the more people you pleasured and pleasured you, the more addicting it became.

Never once were you disappointed with your suitor for the night. Each person chose you based on your profile - a precise and detailed contract written to list your kinks and hard limits. Every match was perfect in every way; whether they dominated you or they let you dominate them. It seemed as if every shift you were asked the same question -

“Why do you bother with your day job? You make plenty here. You could easily quit and stop exhausting yourself.” Every time, the same smile would ease onto your face as his image fluttered into your head.

“Because it’s worth it. Believe me.” He was worth it.

Even if you could only spend five minutes or an hour with him. It was worth dragging your feet into that dressing room just to see him - to touch him. He was an addiction, no matter how much you hated to admit it. Just in the few months that you had been working for him, you were so easily attached. It couldn’t get any worse than that, you convinced yourself.

As you entered your slate grey room, you hummed in satisfaction. The white blanketed bed that you adored so much sat perfectly in the center of the room. Yes, the center. You wanted it this way for a reason. You wanted whoever you were with that night to be the center of attention as you pleasured them. You wanted them to feel as if your chamber was the only room that existed. An elusive power illuminated from this room and it gave you a euphoric elation that you couldn’t explain. This was your domain and no one could take that from you.

In a charming and slow manner, you undressed yourself to reveal a pale pink piece of lingerie attached to your skin. It was a muted color with sheer fabric. One of your favorite pieces that allowed for your nipples and core to be revealed with only a taste to one’s eye. It was modest yet sexy - high waisted panties and a bra line that outlined your breasts perfectly. Your soft hair fell to the top of your shoulders, gently grazing the top of your back. The anticipation of the new client already made you wet in your core.

The clock ticked and tocked with a quiet echo against the wall. When your eyes fell upon the device, it read 20:59. He would arrive in one minute exactly; they were never late. As a part of your ritual, you climbed onto the bed. The soft comforter tickling your skin in the most delicious way. Beside you was a silk ribbon that was placed previously just for you. You always wore a blindfold; for the thrill and for unbiased reactions towards your clients. Without a rush in your fingers, you grabbed the fabric and tied it firmly yet gently around your eyes. Your hands eased their way onto your thighs as your legs were folded beneath you - a restful kneeling position with your palms against your skin.

Right on cue, the door creaked open and you couldn’t help but to sigh in satisfaction. The sounds of footsteps entering the room stilled along with a gasp. The sound pleased you. Quickly but almost hushed, the door closed behind him; letting you know that he was securely inside your chamber. Respectfully, you bowed your head slightly with a soft smile.

“Welcome. Would you like to get comfortable first or do you have something else in mind,” you asked in a silky voice. It typically went either way. The client either wanted to talk first as they stared at your form or they wanted to fuck you as soon as possible - either way, you were prepared. There was a silence in the air that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

He must be a shy one, you thought. A light hum vibrated your throat. You crawled just a little further down the bed, careful in knowing exactly where you were so you didn’t crawl off the bed. Positioning yourself again as you were, you cocked your head in a playful manner and smirked.

“You can speak. I won’t bite…unless you want me to.” This time, a light giggle purred from your lips in hopes to make him more comfortable. The man didn’t move. You could practically hear him swallow hard.

“Noona?” Alarm and fear hit you like a thousand knives. In one tug, you pulled down your blindfolds to clarify the fright that panged your thoughts. Never in a million years did you think he would ever step foot into your chambers. Your voice trembled as you stuttered his name.

“J-Jungkook?”

[gabbyhall]

They Never Know

Part 2

Time to begin the routine, as you get your car and drive off. However your mind reflects back to the apartment, to the shower, to your man. Making the right turn straight down at the bottom of the hill you’re now on the Main Street ,Centre Ave. It’s called that ironically enough, and you should be able to head in the forward direction to the hospital to start your work day. A 15 min commute turns into 25, which then turn into 40 minutes. You’ve literally only travel 20 feet in 5 minutes!.” This is fucking ridiculous! Are you really kidding me!...grunting as you grip the steering wheel tightly, watching other cars being WAY TOO polite on the road. “I’m so over this shit!”. As you attempt and successfully merge into the left lane, the light finally turns green,so you make a B-line onto Shady Ave, another ironically named street. It’s one of the many short cuts only city kids know about. Now heading quickly to your destination, at the only red light you noticed the bar that is facing straight head. The neon sign is off, but you still can read the sign “Tequila Cowboy.” A small, slight smirk emerges across from your face. You’ve only been to that bar once, and once was all it took to change your life for good......

Five Years Ago..........

“I’m not going out tonight guys! Y’all acting like I don’t even have work tomorrow am, which by the way is my first day on the job!” You’re elevating your voice on the phone as you talk to your girlfriends, pacing back and forth in your living room wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. “This ain’t happen! I’m going to bed and gonna get a jumpstart in the morning. I got fucking orientation!” Hanging up the phone and then plops on the couch. Sighing, almost lamenting you made that scene, displaying such phone balls! Once again you’re letting nerves get the better of you. “If you change your mind grandma....we at Tequila Cowboy!!!!” It’s the last text you get for awhile anyway from your squad. So the grandma that you are. You make dinner, clean up, shower and head off to bed. Knowledge in the fact that you did the right thing......no matter how much you LOVE Tequila....and cowboys!!!

A few hours past by and your phone is buzzing stirring you up. “Hmmm.....do I have to get up already!. But wait! It’s only 2:12 am! Squinting upwards at the digital clock glowingly mounted up on the wall in your dark bedroom. “Hel...lo....what’s wrong? Are you ok? Ok ok ok I’m on my way!” Then in a sudden rush you throw on your jacket and sneakers still in your sweatpants and T-shirt, get your keys to drive over to the bar. “Hold up! Where the hell is Tequila Cowboy?!?” Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, you begin searching online for the address and turn on your GPS. “Wow I can’t believe I haven’t gone to this bar before....so fucking close to my house!” Within 5 minutes you make it to the “scene of the crime.” Up ahead a neon sign glares the name of the establishment, with a rider on a bull falling off onto his ass. Chuckling, you enter the bar hearing pulsating Dubstep music playing faintly but increases as you walk down the hall. “Do I need to pay a cover charge or something? I need to pick up my friends.” Giving the bouncer a look as if to say... you better say no! “Nah it’s after midnight so no need! Besides I was gonna let you in for free. Please tell me you friends with that girl!”..pointing off to the left where you can clearly see one of your best friends singing Imagine Dragons “Radioactive” and doing a horrible job at it. “Yeah....that’s my girlfriend.” Shaking your head and slightly covering your face with your one hand. The bouncer waves you in....”I’ve tried to stop her.....but she bit me!!!”....whining like a little child even though he has to be 6’3” and weigh at least 250 lbs.

There’s your girl almost passed out from belting a note flatly. Walking up to your squad, “What the hell happened!” asking giving off that parental tone. One of your other friends explains “I don’t know gurl. We were all on the dance floor, having a good time but we lost track of her, and the next thing you know she starts tripping!” Then your attention goes back to your beyond buzzed friend slurring. “Immma be a star bish youse see!!!...Dis is my time!” Screeching her music dreams in club. “I know honey I know you will be! But first let’s get you home so you can dream about it some more.” Looking at the rest of your squad. “I’ll take her home and get an Uber for you guys, ok?” Your friends agree to the plan, and leave the bar in the UBER. Then, carefully picking your ridiculously drunk friend up from underneath her one arm, providing her support unto your shoulders. Then you notice she’s making this noise. It’s that sound you make just before you lose everything from deep inside. “Oh snap I’m getting you to the bathroom! With no time to waste, you find the nearest bathroom. Not even caring about gender assignments for the moment as you both enter inside. Then your friend “let’s out the beast” and all you can do is pull back her hair as she makes a new friend with the toilet in the men’s bathroom. The stall door closed behind you two for privacy.

Suddenly and randomly the main men’s bathroom door opens up abruptly and you hear passionately moans and shuffling of feet! You may not be able to see...but you can tell there are two more entering in a rush. But in this case, they don’t have time to make it to their car let alone the bedroom!! The sounds of this couple panting and kissing each other feverishly. Then a small thud is heard and you can’t help but now peek through the stall door safely knowing your friend has finally stopped vomiting. As you peek ever so slightly you notice the couple consists of two men. One, only just slightly above average in appearance, more typical of the guy you would see on the street, nothing much particular about him. The other though, is taller and you swear to god he could be a model. The more attractive individual clearly has more experience and prowess. This is because you notice how he manipulated the other throwing him up against the wall, kissing his neck deeply, while his hands reaching for that belt buckle, undoes the buckle, and unzips his pants. His hand slowly stroking his partner’s dick, rubbing the tip with his thumb. Then unbuttoning his partners shirt to place light kisses down his chest. Finally, going down licking his partner along his shaft and then kissing his tip before swallowing him whole. His head moving in and out. While his lover bites his lower lip in agony!

Not knowing what to do though.You want to leave the bathroom with your friend quietly, but becoming slightly aroused by this lustful scene unfolding right in front of you. Wondering how long they’re gonna be in this bathroom together Slowly your heart begins to pound and your eyebrows furrow to stay focused on the bigger picture. “Damn! Why did you cum already?” The taller man teasing as the smaller man nods bashfully. “Hmm I need to teach you a lesson on self control!”....smack his partner on the ass and they get redressed kissing, as they hold hands, and exit the bathroom. Meanwhile you’re astounded. What is a man that good looking doing with some weak ass average joe?!? “Life isn’t fair! Why do the fine ones have to be always taken?!”....slowly asking yourself as you shake your head. Thankfully, the hot model’s boyfriend is a one minute man!

Retaining your focus and now realizing that your friend isn’t responding. She still has a pulse but is unconscious. There’s a sudden panic consuming you. It’s time for a change of plans. Instead of taking her home, you decide that she needs to seek medical care and grabbing your phone call for paramedics. In a few minutes you hear the sirens. As they enter the bathroom your mind is going in a million directions. Worry for your best friend, laying helpless on the gurney and being removed from the bar. There’s also guilt, for not being there with her earlier and for being distracted by a random ass quick sex scene between two strange men. Anxiety about how all of these events will effect your work performance for your new nursing career, which is about to start in a few hours. Then, shame for even thinking about your own stressors that have nothing to do with your friend, who is in her own distress. “I’m staying with her!” Saying adamantly to the one of the EM workers as she nods quietly without arguing. Then quickly rushing off to the nearest hospital, following the ambulance. Coincidentally, it’s the same hospital where you are to start your shift. Entering the Emergency Room you reluctantly have to wait, forced to fill out useless paperwork. All you can do is let the professionals and your future colleagues take over and care for your friend. Sitting in that waiting area, nothing matters. All that matters is whether or not she makes it through. Finally a patient care tech walks in and provides updates and relief rushes you as you find out that she’ll be okay. However, she suffered from alcohol poisoning due to excess consumption. That she will be requiring observation for 24-48 hours. “I can visit her though right?!” The care technician nods and escorts you inside to her exam room. Seeing her looking up at you solidifying that relief and happiness overwhelming you. “What were you thinking? You could’ve been in worse straits....I guess grandma gotta keep you girls in check!” As your friend smiles reassuring you that it will NEVER go down like this again. You let her know that you’ll be here to visit her later on, and that you’ll let the others know that she’s alright. Quietly, you exit the exam room and begin to make those calls.

The new game plan...... grab a thousand cups of coffee, get in your car, rush back home, change, and rush back to that same damn hospital!! It’s amazing what you can when you set your mind to it. Even if your mind is running on only about a few hours of sleep! “It’s no big thing...you got this!” Telling yourself this as you try to find the Biomedical Building. From the email that you received from your HR Rep, you’re suppose to find Room 233. Room 233 is the conference hall, a brightly expanded room with 5 outstretched tables, adorned with the standard breakfast goods. You pick the middle table, first seat. But is only because there’s fresh coffee that is staring you right in the face! So you then grab for your 1000 and 1 cup of coffee, and seat down. It’s 9:00 am in the morning and slowly the rest of the new hires file in. Then, the head doctors and nurses, as well administration enter the conference room. Now it’s time to try to stay awake and learn about all the “fun” stuff. Policies, procedures, blah, blah, blah, blah!!!!

During these series of PowerPoint presentations, one boring speaker after another. You slightly perk up a bit. “This next policy we are going to discuss will involve interpersonal relations in the work environment. The speaker will be Dr. Sehun Oh MD FACS... head chairmen of the Urology Department here at UPMC Shadyside. Please welcome him to the podium.” Small polite applause fills the room. You on the other hand are not clapping. Dr. Oh is tall, slender....with distinguished features and you’re thinking to yourself...”Omg!! That can’t be him. That isn’t him.....why does he look so familiar?” But, you know damn well why he looks so familiar!? This model-like MD, is the same model-like stranger you saw in that men’s bathroom last night! A warm rush of nerves floods your body, as he is speaking. He may not know you from Adam, but you know him from last Eve!!! However, he speaks fluently and directly on how and why romantic relationships are NOT tolerated in UPMC Hospitals. He explains in detail about the levels of reprimands that are to be forced upon employees who break this rules. Listening and comprehending this lecture given by your now superior. You have no choice but to actually pay attention for the first time since you’ve been here, allowing his words to become absorbed in your brain. You ignore your first impressions of him. You ignore the fact that he is handsome and find him extremely attractive. You ignore the fact that he has a sexually dominated personality, but is in a relationship with another guy. You ignore all of this, because it’s none of your business and besides you’re not EVEN his type?.........right!?

[mst3kproject]

Venus meets the Son of Hercules

The Hercules movies were always among my favourite episodes of MST3K, so I'm definitely gonna review more of them as Episodes that Never Were.  This one features Massimo Serato from The Loves of Hercules and a lot of people who spent the entire sixties being in one sword-and-sandal movie after another.  The music is by Gino Marinuzzi Jr, who also did the score for Hercules and the Captive Women.  And the title is almost a complete lie – there's no son of Hercules in this movie, or even Hercules himself.  I bet that would have confused the hell out of Joel and the bots.

Some vaguely Minoan city is being attacked by a hybrid of racist stereotypes and losing badly, when suddenly a mysterious warrior in an extremely impractical helmet descends from the heavens to save the day!  He single-handedly turns the tide of battle, and then stops to save the life of a pretty girl named Daphne before vanishing into the sunset.  This warrior, however, is none other than Mars, the God of War, who returns to the city as a mortal man because he has fallen in love with Daphne.  He arrives to learn that she has been sent to be a sacred virgin in the temple of Venus, as thanks to the gods for his help – whoops!

Mars never was a very reasonable guy, so he decides he's just gonna have to storm the temple and get her back.  This ought to be easy for somebody whose powers include invisibility and godlike strength, but Venus is a little pissed about the theft of one of her virgins, and wants Mars for herself.  Meanwhile, there's a palace conspiracy going on back in the city, too.  Remember Licos from The Loves of Hercules?  I guess after faking his own death in Ecalia he changed his name to Antarus and went to find some other royal family to marry into.  He wants to have his cake and eat it too, marrying Princess Hecuba but also banging Daphne on the side.  Hecuba wants to be rid of Daphne forever so she'll have no competition for Antarus' affections.  The whole thing's a poorly-researched ancient soap opera!

The movie is full of riff opportunities.  The high priest's costume looks like he's wearing droopy bunny ears.  I bet Joel and the Bots would have loved that.  I hereby dub him Father Harvey. There's a pyre scene that would no doubt have prompted jokes about marshmallows and hot dogs.  Hecuba looks like Minoan Angelica Houston.  A bit where the priestesses perform a weird dance with big pieces of coloured fabric would have been fodder for comments about skittles and possibly Disney's Fantasia.  The women wear spirals on their boobs.  The monster they sacrifice young virgins to looks like a cross between a sundew and a sarlaac.  The Brains would have had a ball with this one, and I hope they still might.

As a movie, though, it's one of those films in which we really have no reason to root for the love story between Mars and Daphne, because they literally do not know each other.  They said a couple of sentences each when he rescued her from the barbarians, and then he had to go back to Olympus – the next time they meet he's trying to kidnap her from the temple, and they're making declarations of love.  Hercules knew Deianira better than that!  The film seems to know this is dumb, too, because it tries to get us to ship Marphne by presenting all alternative relationships as dysfunctional.

Venus is manipulative and uses trickery to get Mars into bed with her.  Antarus is not only engaged to somebody else, but he's old enough to be Daphne's father (come to think of it, Mars, as a god, is probably hundreds or thousands of years old, but let's not go there.  The Greek myths give the gods an average mental age of about fifteen anyway).  Antarus and Hecuba are much more interested in using each other than kissing each other.  The only healthy relationship Daphne is seen to have with a man is with Frixos the Armorer, who serves as her Sassy Gay Friend so the movie won't have to risk passing the Bechdel test.  At the end he's paired up with a girl to reassure the audience that despite being respectful and supportive of his female best friend, a coward in battle, and interested in what people are wearing, he's totally heterosexual.

Except for pure and virginal Daphne, the women with speaking roles in this movie are jealous and scheming.  Hecuba wants Daphne put in a convent or fed to a monster, so that she'll have Antarus all to herself, and she misuses her political authority in order to accomplish this.  Venus tricks Mars out of his first attempt to rescue Daphne, then takes on the girl's face to seduce him – and he demonstrates that he's no smarter than Micky Hargitay's Hercules by going for it!  Even Daphne herself has her jealous moment, when she looks into the Sybil's pool and sees Mars and Venus in bed together (this is the most mythologically-accurate moment in the movie, by the way.  Greek oracles loved to give truthful but misleading answers. Daphne sees the couple in bed, but not that the woman is wearing her face).

The men in the movie, meanwhile, all deserve a couple of good smacks for thinking with their dicks.  Mars gives up his immortality in order to bone a girl he only just met, then sleeps with her doppelgänger.  Antarus finds his pending marriage to Hecuba threatened by his desire to sleep with Daphne, but continues trying to sleep with her anyway, and actually murders his fiancee, ruining his own plans to enter the royal succession, rather than just accept that he can't always have what he wants!  A guard continually catcalls the deaf-mute Maya despite his colleague pointing out, again and again, that she can't hear him.  The only man who comes across as having a brain in his head instead of his penis is Frixos, who suspects a trick and refuses when he thinks Maya is trying to get him in bed.

Later in the movie, Frixos claims to have fallen in love with Maya, and when Mars asks him what makes her different from other women, Frixos explains about her being unable to hear or speak.  Both of them then laugh!  I think this is a joke about women talking too much, but given how Frixos comes across, I found myself theorizing that he hoped to reduce gossip by having a woman living with him – one who can't go around telling people he doesn't sleep with her.

So much for gender and sexuality.  Let's talk about race in this movie.  The most notable actor of colour is John Kitzmiller, playing the barbarian king who attacks the city at the beginning. This character is literally named Afros and is portrayed as having complete contempt for the lives, laws, and sacred spaces of the locals.  This is not explored thoroughly enough to be an intentional reversal, so it stands as a snortworthy nugget of irony. Then there's Maya, who is vaguely non-white as well as being a disabled female slave.  She makes friends with Daphne and while she turns out to be quite intelligent and competent, her role in the story is limited to doing a service for her white friend at considerable risk to herself.  For the most part she is a helpless victim, blamed for a crime she did not commit and tortured into admitting to it.

Finally there's the movie's entirely unexplained ending.  Now, I made fun of the monster earlier, but I have to give them full points for originality.  Throughout the movie they talk about this beast, but never describe it.  I was expecting some sort of traditional reptilian creature, so the maiden-devouring plant was actually a nice surprise.  It's not a bad design, either, although it could have used some colour.  There's something appealingly caterpillar-ish about the way the big, spiky petals unfurl.  A priest refers to the thing as sacred to Proserpine, who was a goddess of plant life married to Pluto, god of death, so it's also thematically appropriate!  The rubber model doesn't look very good in full light, but a-plus concept.

Getting back to the ending, though.  Earlier in the story the Sybil told Daphne that Mars was not destined to live a mortal life, and the only way to resolve the situation was for Daphne to die.  In the final battle, sure enough, she takes the arrow Antarus meant for Mars – Mars pushes Antarus into the sarlaac pit, but Daphne dies in his arms.  Mars then declares that he will commit suicide, since if he and Daphne could not share life he wants them to share death.  This seems like it will be the fulfillment of the Sybil's prophecy.  Then, however, Daphne's body disappears and she materializes, alive, in a chariot drawn by four white horses!  Mars climbs in, and they fly off into the night or something.

Mars calls out a thanks to his father Jupiter for this favour, so I guess he made Daphne immortal or something?  This is not unprecedented in mythology: the same boon was granted to Psyche so she could marry Cupid.  In the tale of Cupid and Psyche, however, the gods are active throughout, and the concept of ambrosia, a potion that confers immortality, is already introduced.  In Venus meets the Son of Hercules this comes out of nowhere, to give a happy ending to a story we've already been told cannot have one!

If I were in charge of remaking this movie, the first thing I would do is have Mars stick around a while, perhaps as the city gives a feast in his honour or something, and actually talk to Daphne before deciding he loves her.  Then I would foreshadow the idea that Daphne can earn immortality through an act of selflessness – the Temple of Venus could be presented as a possible avenue to this, giving an extra reason why Mars should not be allowed to take her away.  It's not like they wouldn't have had time for such things. The movie has a number of over-long sequences, like the opening battle and the dance of the vestals, that could easily have been cut to make room for actual plot and character development.

Venus meets the Son of Hercules is kind of okay as a peplum romance, but it's depressing how easy it would have been to improve on it.