#which has the best candy

[mst3kproject]

Magic Christmas Tree

I thought I’d try something different this year and find a bad Hannukah movie, but everybody I asked had the same recommendation: Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights.  I know for a fact that is a prohibitively awful film, because I know people who’ve watched parts of it (I have not to date met anyone who could sit through the whole thing), but it just doesn’t feel like an MST3K feature to me.  Anyway, I have standards.  My conclusion is that people need to make more Hannukah movies… and until that happens, I’m watching Magic Christmas Tree, which comes specially recommended by RiffTrax.

This is the only Christmas movie I’ve ever seen which starts with cheerful holiday music over footage of… Hallowe’en decorations. Obnoxious bully Mark and his two pushover friends decide to go investigate a supposedly-haunted house. Naturally the old lady who lives there is a witch, and in exchange for Mark rescuing her cat, she gives him a seed for a magical tree that will grant him three wishes.  Two months later, with the tree fully grown, his first wish is to have magical powers for one hour – he uses them to torment unfortunate people who were already having to work on Christmas Eve.  His second wish is to kidnap Santa Claus and extort unlimited presents from him, but that attracts the attention of the spirit of Greed, who intends to keep Mark as a slave forever!  Good thing he’s still got that third wish.

God, I hate this movie.  I’d say it’s the worst Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, but Elves exists, so instead I have to say it’s the worst Christmas movie that didn’t have any Nazis in it.  It reminds me more than anything else of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow, in that it’s an absolute mess that seems to have been put together by people who have no idea what they’re doing.  It spends most of its time on boring, annoying irrelevant bullshit, and then when it gets to the plot, that’s boring and annoying, too!

Magic Christmas Tree is only an hour long, but that’s twice as long as it needed to be.  A plot summary makes it sound like most of the film will be dealing with Mark’s three wishes and how he uses them, but it’s half-over before we even get to that point.  The time leading up to it is spent watching Mark follow the witch’s complicated instructions on how to grow and activate the tree, and his parents dealing with this unwanted thing appearing in the middle of their back yard.  All of this is presented in excruciating detail.  We watch Mark dig the entire hole to plant the seed in.  We see his Dad struggle with the lawnmower at unbelievable length, while the Mom yacks about nothing on the phone with her friend Betty.  The Dad tries to cut the tree down with no success.  Mark has to say a set of magic words over and over and over.

It goes on so long, it passes the are you fucking kidding me? point and wanders into territory where you wonder if there’s something wrong with the disk and you’re playing the scene over and over.  It actually starts to feel like it’s on purpose – especially when the slowness is repeatedly emphasized by shots of Mark’s pet tortoise, Ichabod, who seems to be eating his patch of clover far faster than anybody else is accomplishing anything.  You’ll swear the movie is making fun of you.

The sound that accompanies all this is sometimes very peculiar.  The old lady has exactly the voice you’d expect from a witch in a cheap kid’s movie, but Mark’s Mom sounds like she’s being dubbed by a twelve-year-old boy, possibly the same one who provided the voice for Mark himself.  The tree speaks (oh, yes, it does) in the voice of a smarmy stereotypical gay man.  Santa Claus sounds like he’s half-senile and wondering what’s for lunch.

The lawnmower makes some very strange noises indeed. I guess they’re meant to be cartoonish and funny.  They’re definitely the former but they’re never the latter, possibly because they never sound remotely like a lawnmower.  When Mark’s Dad is trying to get it started it sounds like the ghost of a consumptive horse, and three hours later when it actually gets going, it makes noises like a traffic jam in Whoville.

Besides sounding weird, the actors are just plain bad.  The guy playing Santa Claus is half-asleep.  We’re told that the tree’s magic means he’s trapped in the chair he’s sitting in, and I honestly do believe that actor could not have gotten up if he tried, no wishes necessary.  The woman playing Mark’s Mom looks like she’s high as a kite and only barely keeping her grip on reality.  Maybe that’s why they had to dub her.  Mark’s Dad recites his lines like a guy on a game show reading his own life story off a teleprompter, and does his yard chores in a way that’s probably supposed to be pantomimey but is the opposite of entertaining.  The Dad gets an inordinate amount of screen time, which I can only chalk up to the fact that he’s played by director Dick Parish.

The worst of the lot are, of course, the kids, who are predictably terrible 60’s child actors.  They yell all their lines, with the volume and exaggerated emphasis you expect from a school play.  It wears thin very, very quickly.  The kid playing Mark is the worst of the lot, although I might just think that because he’s the one we spend the most time with.  He’s a huge part of why this movie makes me so mad.

I think the best way to describe Mark as a character is to say that the first time I watched this movie I assumed his name was ‘Billy’, despite the fact that everybody kept calling him ‘Mark’. He just seems like the type of nasty little brat who’d be named ‘Billy’ in a bad 60’s Christmas movie.  We meet him having lunch with his two friends by the playground, and learn that he’s a greedy little shit when he drives a hard bargain in a sandwich trade.  Greedy-little-shit-itude continues to be his primary character trait and is, of course, the core of the movie’s lesson.  His attempt to monopolize Santa Claus makes him such a greedy little shit that Greed himself takes an interest in him.

Greed is a huge hairy man who takes delight in kidnapping little boys.  I think he’s supposed to look like a fairy tale giant.  Watching him manhandle a child is an intensely uncomfortable experience.

I guess ‘don’t be greedy’ is a standard message for a children’s movie, and it seems like a particularly appropriate one for Christmas, which presents children with a great opportunity for avarice. What seems a little odd is that Mark never actually suffers any consequences for his selfishness, only the vague threat of them. There was a perfect opportunity for some of this when Mark kidnaps Santa Claus.  Santa, after all, brings toys to good girls and boys… surely by this point, after his brief reign of terror with his magical powers, Mark has been naughty enough to deserve only coal.  Apparently that’s not how it works, though.  Mark just wanders off into the woods in search of small animals to shoot with his new rifle, runs into the giant, and immediately repents even though Greed is offering him all the toys and candy he wants.

What supposedly prompts Mark to become a better person is seeing how the world has responded to Santa Claus going missing.  Curiously, there is very little emphasis on the children who are sad because they didn’t get any presents.  Maybe somebody thought that would have made them seem greedy? Instead, the vision Greed presents to Mark is of the United States military mobilizing to locate Santa and bring him home, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians-style!  So… I guess Mark becomes a better person because he’s afraid of what’s going to happen if the army finds Santa trapped in a chair in his house?  I guess that is pretty terrifying.

Another thing that blunts the lesson is the fact that Mark is given his three wishes as a reward for a good deed.  He got the witch’s cat down from the tree, so she offers him the magical seed and doesn’t let him refuse.  What then was he supposed to use his three wishes for, if not to get stuff for himself? Was this intentionally a poisoned gift, because you shouldn’t accept things from witches?  The witch insists that there are good witches as well as wicked ones, but she’s not exactly an unbiased source.  The movie never tries to blame her, though.  The situation is presented as Mark’s fault, and Mark’s alone.

Finally, at the end Mark wakes up and finds that of course the whole thing was a dream – there was no witch, no magic tree, and no Santa Claus.  This is less annoying than it could have been because at least it’s not a surprise. Mark did hit his head when he fell out of the tree the cat was in, and the movie changed from black and white to colour.  We’ve seen this before in The Wizard of Oz and we can guess where it’s going. The audience might assume that Mark will wake up and immediately take the opportunity to be generous instead of greedy, perhaps by giving his friend something to make up for the lunch trade. Instead, the woman who owns the cat (who is not actually a witch, but looks even more like one in this part of the film than she does wearing the Hallowe’en witch costume in Mark’s dream) offers him milk and cookies, and he delightedly accepts.  This just gives the impression that he’s learned nothing.

Is there anything in this movie I didn’t hate?  Well… among Mark’s school friends is a token black kid, who is not differentiated in any way from his peers.  He talks like them, he dresses like them, and the writers did not use either his lunch or his Hallowe’en plans as a way to demarcate a class difference between him and the others.  So yeah, the movie sucks, but the writers tried really hard not to be racist.

Happy fucking holidays.  I want to say hooray for surviving 2020, but we’ve still got a week to go.  That’s plenty of time for oh, I don’t know, an alien invasion, or a giant meteor, or the Yellowstone supervolcano, or zombies, or whatever.  At this point, if most of us aren’t dead by this time next year, I’ll count that as a win.

[jamesbvck]

change your mind | six

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU, High School!Bucky) Summary: Senior Year: the last year to be a somebody or a nobody. A chance to fall in love, ace that final exam and make memories. After a terrible first impression, Bucky makes it his mission to fix the mistake he made with the new girl. Will they get their chance? Warnings: swearing, more cliche high school things, flashbacks A/N: hi! since january was only three days, there are some flashbacks to random days in january! feedback is encouraged :)

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There were moments when you were on cloud nine; moments that your heart soared and your stomach was swarmed with fluttering butterflies. And then there were other times when you were second guessing everything. There was still slight hesitation and reservations that you had with Bucky and sometimes you wanted to pull the plug and call off...whatever you two were anyway. There weren’t any major red flags but there were still times when you could convince yourself that Bucky wasn’t the right guy for you, that somewhere along the line everything would just crumble. It had barely been a month and you knew that was nothing.

Your classes had changed up for the new semester and you didn’t have any classes with Bucky. He had a free period and moved his schedule around so he could sleep in during first which was pretty smart. But it was okay. You had another class with Steve which was math, and you shared fourth period co-ed gym with Clint and Sam which already proven to be quite the adventure. Those two could be amusing to hang around, especially when you’d turn to run a third lap of the gym with sweat beading down your forehead and on the verge of collapsing, and Clint offers to piggyback you around for the next two laps. Your gym teacher, Mr Lang, really didn’t seem to care much. He always had coffee and some sort of snack with him and half assed the class. It was going to be a breeze.

You did miss history class with Bucky, though. Not so much Mr Pierce, but just the routine of the morning and Bucky annoyingly prodding you with his pencil. It wasn’t all bad, even though he had first period free, he’d get up and drive you to school when it was super snowy. You had told him it wasn’t necessary but Bucky was Bucky and would be at your front door fifteen minutes before school started. Sometimes Becca would be in the backseat, eagerly waving from the window.

Homework dates seemed to be a more frequent thing. Bucky would come over after school and you’d both sit with the TV on, eat some snacks and do homework. Those times would start off with homework but sometimes you’d both find yourself on the couch a little less interested in fundamental learning.

Bucky’s phone had been vibrating nonstop for the last thirty minutes. He’d pick it up and feverishly reply back, setting it face down on the coffee table. You nonchalantly peaked at him as he sat on the couch and you were on the floor with your own work. His brows were tightly knit together and face contoured with discontent.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You set your pencil down in your math textbook, rotating yourself to face him.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” you countered. “You’ve been working on the same question for a half hour, I don’t even think you’ve written anything new down.”

Bucky sighed deeply, dropping his own pen down and leaned back on the couch. He rubbed the side of his chin as you got up and took the open cushion next to him. “My dad was supposed to come back from a work trip tonight but I guess he decided to fly from Sacramento to Dallas instead for something else.”

“How long has he been away for?”

“A week? Haven’t really countdown the days since I was thirteen. He’s going to miss Julia’s little play at school on Thursday and he was supposed to be at Abby’s parent-teacher interview.”

You got the sense that Bucky’s father seemed to be more absent than not. It made you wonder how Winifred handled four kids on her own, but you supposed none of them were babies and they could all manage to help each other out. It had been just you and your mother for a while and you grew up a little fast having to fend for yourself. You really couldn’t imagine how it must have been a few years ago when everyone was younger and their father went away for a long period of time. Sure, he was providing for the family but family was important too.

“My dad got me into football, right. Well, my dad and my uncle and they taught Steve and I how to play. Dad and I would throw around the ball in the backyard until it was dark. At first it was just for fun then I started to really love it, and I worked hard at it. He’d take me to every youth league practice and game, and if I had a shit game he’d say there’s nothing wrong with trying your best.”

Bucky was rambling and you let him. It sounded like he needed to get some things off his chest anyway and you wouldn’t interrupt him.

“But then Steve’s mom would have to drive me, or I’d have to figure out a way to get there because my mom was taking care of my sisters. My dad got a promotion at the tech company he works for in the city and he started flying around. It was cool for a bit but then he stopped coming to games,” Bucky took a second to breathe. “I did a six week training camp last summer. It was thirty minutes away in Warrior Falls so I’d either have to bus or sometimes Clint or Steve would drive me. Came home one night and there was that Jeep in the driveway and my dad handed me the keys. We didn’t say anything, he just pat my shoulder and went back into the house.”

It was quiet for a few moments. You knew you probably didn’t need to say anything, that simply letting Bucky vent for a minute was enough. His phone vibrated again. You reached over and handed it to him seeing Becca’s name flash across the screen with an eye roll emoji. It wasn’t just affecting Bucky but his sisters, too. Sure, perhaps Bucky and Becca weren’t surprised by it but it wasn’t fair to Julia and Abby who were younger. Bucky cleared the message and set his phone aside.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

You blinked in confusion. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky shrugged. His arm went around the back of the couch and pulled you into his side. He didn’t reply and you didn’t focus on an explanation. But there was the pattern of Bucky seemingly apologizing for nothing sometimes, pre-preventing himself from being some sort of bad guy which you had grown to learn he was rather the opposite. You rested into him, closing your eyes. Homework could wait.

You wandered to your locker after your sleepy first period class. You weren’t too into world geography but it wasn’t the worst class ever. A girl that was in your history class was in this class and you sat beside her, she was nice. The hallways were decorated with cut out hearts and pink and white streamers. There were bistol board signs with large, bold lettering indicating that Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. You could send candy grams and/or roses to your crush or friends. You stopped by one of the tables in the main foyer and forked over ten dollars to get six, one for each of your friends.

You took them with you to your locker having decided on to personalize them for each person. You stuck them into your notebook and retrieved your math book. A tingle shot up your back as a gentle hand touched your waist. Your eyes flickered to your left seeing Bucky with a pink nose from the cold and the black beanie situated on his head was dusted with snow. He was still dressed for the outdoors having not been to his locker yet.

“It’s fucking cold.” Bucky sniffed.

“Maybe you should invest in an actual winter jacket,” you said, brushing the snow off the shoulders of his lettermans jacket. “And I don’t know, maybe a scarf? Gloves? Proper winter garments?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You sound like my mother.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you get sick.”

He smiled cheekily. You closed your locker and began the daily routine of Bucky walking you to second period as it was by his end of the school. Your hand bumped against his cold one as you strolled, Bucky telling you about how his dad has gotten home late last night. Apparently breakfast had been quiet, only mouths chewing and his father, George, reading the morning paper. Winifred had made a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

You gave Bucky a half smile. At least his dad was home for a few days, that was something.

You stopped at your math room, turning to face Bucky. “Guess I’ll see you at lunch. Think pizza’s on the menu today.”

“Pizza’s always on the menu.” He chuckled.

“Hats off, Mr Barnes.” Mr Pym was on a mission as he walked by with his briefcase and a stack of papers in hand. But he still had time to make sure students followed the code of conduct.

Bucky pulled off his beanie, “Sorry, sir.” He replied, waiting until Pym was around the corner. Bucky took his hat and neatly adjusted it so it was perfectly slouching on the crown of your head. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You reached up to touch the wool and smiled. “If I get in trouble it’s going to be your fault.”

“You won’t. I promise, only the elderly care about the hat rule.”

The bell rang causing other kids to scurry to their next class. Bucky was already going to be late to his English class. Bucky leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. Your insides tangled with a fuzzy feeling. He waved and you wiggled your fingers back, slipping into the classroom. Steve trailed into the room with his backpack on his shoulder, taking up the seat next to you.

“You into beanies now?” He asked, unzipping his bag.

You smiled to yourself. “Maybe so.”

“Looks familiar, think I’ve seen it before.” You could hear the teasing in Steve’s voice.

A blush crept onto your cheeks, shaking your head as you flipped open to a fresh lined page in your notebook. Maybe you were into more than just the beanie.

You spent the entire class half paying attention and half doodling on the candy gram cards. You finished five out of the six, unsure of what to write on Bucky’s. It didn’t need to be anything serious. You tapped your eraser against the top of the desk with the bell drawing you out of your thoughts. You glanced over at Steve as he was closing his books and stuck his pencil behind his ear.

“Coming to lunch, or are you going to endure another round of math?” Steve grinned.

“I don’t even know what the lesson was today.” You admitted, getting out of your chair.

Steve slung his bag over his shoulder. “Maybe that beanie’s on too tight.”

You knocked shoulders with him as you exited the classroom and headed to your lockers. Peggy stood beside your locker since her Economics class was just a few doors down. She waved with a grand smile on her face.

“Heard a rumour in class today.” Peggy said.

“What kind of rumours swirl around Econ? How the American economy is collapsing? That’s nothing new.” You spun your padlock and unlocked your locker, shoving your books up on the top shelf. You took Peggy’s to store in there for now, too.

“No— well, yes— But these girls in the back of the class were gossiping like they usually do,” she started walking after you got your wallet and closed up your locker. “Apparently one of them is working the candy gram station and said Bucky stopped by and bought a pretty penny’s worth of the roses to send out.”

You arched a brow at Peggy. “That’s the hot gossip?”

She shrugged and laughed. “It is when you’re not the girl receiving them. Right, Nat?” Peggy called out to Natasha who was waiting by the stairs. She glanced up from her phone. “Roses are a big deal around here.” Peggy repeated.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “They’re flowers. You can buy them at the grocery store.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Peggy beamed, practically skipping into the cafeteria.

“Steve’s sent her a rose every year,” Natasha walked alongside you. “Can’t even imagine what gushy thing he’ll do this time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. At least they were actually a couple this time around. Steve was already in line with Sam. Peggy squeezed her way in between them with Steve’s arm going around her as an automatic response to her presence. You and Natasha stood behind some freshmen girls in line who were whispering (and failing) about Steve and Sam. You snickered to yourself as they chatted about how attractive both boys were with Natasha sighing loudly with a short laugh.

It was a short wait before you grabbed your pizza and a carton of chocolate milk, heading to your usual table. You pulled out a chair and bellied yourself up against the table, beginning to eat. Clint and Bucky joined with cold air rolling off their bodies from the bitter outside weather. The smell of smoke stuck to their clothes and you wonder how in the hell they could stand outside in such frigid conditions. Bucky slung his arm around the back of your chair as he drove into a conversation with Steve. Contently you listened and munched on your cheesy pizza, eyes lingering around the room.

You stopped on Connie four tables over. She had a straw biting between her teeth as she sipped on ginger ale, and she was staring directly at you. Her face was scornful and you feared looking at her too long would turn you to stone. You blinked your gaze away, mindlessly adjusting Bucky’s beanie on your head.

It wasn’t a topic that you wanted to bring up. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about it ever. And you certainly didn’t want to bring it up at the championship party for the Valhalla Panthers. They were now crowned five-time New York State champions after their defeat over Xander High. The atmosphere had been electrifying with the crowd storming the field. Truly it was one of the most exhilarating moments you had ever witnessed. You mooned over the fact that they had won.

But there was a speed bump in the way of the right direction and you had to get over it. The low feeling had been eating at you ever since you walked into the party. You weren’t sure whose house this was but it was crammed with people and the trophy was on full display in the living room of the house. This wasn’t the right place with drinks flowing and thick air circulating. Your phone was clinched in your hand, vibrating twice with a new text message. You turned it over with the screen lighting up seeing Bucky’s name and him asking if you had arrived yet. You didn't need any direction to find him. You could hear Clint’s laughter from the kitchen off around the corner and you knew he’d be somewhere over there. Sure, enough he was.

Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand and a childish grin on his lips. He looked so elated and slightly relieved. Sam was perched up on the island shoving his hand into a bag of Doritos and Steve was humbled by it all. You put on your happy face because truthfully you were and weaved through until you got to Bucky. One of his arms went around your shoulders in a half hug and you pressed yourself to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“We won!” He whispered against the side of your head.

“I know, Buck,” You laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

You pulled back slightly feeling a few nerves build up in the pit of your stomach. You looked up at Bucky whose thrilled expression transitioned into one of concern. Clearly your face was giving away more than you had hoped.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You were mute and instead took his hand to bring him to another room, one more quiet and vacant. “Hey-- did something happen?”

You sighed, leaving the door to a small room open. “I really should just wait until tomorrow but I can’t and I don’t want to ruin your big night.”

Bucky’s brow pulled together. “You’re not going to ruin my night. I’d honestly rather be sitting in Clint’s basement with my friends and you rather than be here.”

You smiled briefly, wrapping your arms around your frame. “Some girls sitting behind Peggy, Nat and I at the game were talking about you and saying shit like how you cheated on Connie with me. Peggy told me to ignore it but it’s kind of hard too. I know we’re just figuring this out still but… Were you dating Connie when I started here?”

Bucky visibly became uncomfortable with the conversation and you wanted to take back everything you had just said to him. His fingers combed through the front of his hand as his weight shifted from leg to leg. “No. We’ve never… dated. Not really.”

“Not really?”

He sighed. “Connie’s liked me since the tenth grade, and yeah I kinda liked her back for a while too but we’ve never actually dated. We’d hang out and stuff but the more I’d hang out the more I knew we wouldn’t really work out. She kind of became a person I went to when I wanted to be alone but not totally.”

Your arms moved up to fold across your chest, a firm line forming on your lips. You didn’t know Bucky two years ago, you didn’t know anything.

“Did you talk to her about your dad?” You asked.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. You nodded. “I told her in November that I didn’t think we should really hang out anymore. Didn’t really give her a reason but she was smart enough to figure out why.”

You were the why.

“Nat said that the only reason she wants to be with you is because she thinks you’re going to go pro.” You told him.

Bucky chuckled. “She did suddenly get very into football when we started talking,” his head shook. “What did she say to you on New Years? You never told me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, debating on whether to spill it or not. Did that part even matter? You had faith in you and Bucky. “She said you’ll get easily bored with girls like me. I’ve got your attention now but give it another week and you’ll crawl your way back to her.”

Bucky’s head was shaking frantically. “No. I’m not--” He paused, humming lowly. He took a few steps towards you. “That’s not going to happen. She’s trying to get under your skin.”

“Kinda worked. I ignored you for most of the night.”

“I don’t want to be with Connie, you know that, right?” You nodded, leaning back against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.” You murmured, taking his hand and laced your fingers together. “I just… don’t want her to cause a problem.”

“She won’t. I promise.” Bucky gave a half smile. You matched his smile and nodded. He lifted your chin a little higher, lips locking in a soft kiss. You let go of his hand, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to you.

Thursdays typically dragged on for what seemed like forever. You weren’t sure why but it always seemed like the clock ticked a little slower. It was a struggle to keep your eyes open in geography and more often than not your head bobbed in a short snooze. The bell was your indicator to move on to your next class. Everyone seemed rather giddy since it was Valentine’s Day. Truthfully you never understood the commercialized holiday (plus it wasn’t even a true holiday where you got the day off), but it made people smile so it was something to someone.

You and Bucky had agreed not to do anything, at least nothing big. You had sent him a candy gram along with your friends, but that was something small and lighthearted. Student council was handing out treats in the main area and there was a bake sale going on throughout the day. You grabbed a pink cupcake along the way to math, humming as you went. Steve was already in his seat with a brownie.

“It’s the day of love, Steven.” You mused.

He chuckled. “So I’ve been told. This little girl that lives across the street from me went up and down our road giving every family a Valentine card and brownies this morning.”

That had to be one of the sweetest things you had ever heard. You smiled and set your books down, unwrapping the liner of your cupcakes and took a bite. It was plain vanilla but still tasty. Peggy had been preparing all week for her date with Steve. Apparently there was a new exhibit in the MET that Peggy had been hinting at to the point where Clint told Steve to buy her tickets so she’d shut up about it. It worked. So Peggy had you over almost every night to help her pick the right outfit which ended up being the one she had tried on the Monday night.

Math was more of a catch up period as there had been a substitute in for the last two days. You idly worked on the assigned questions in your textbook, some kids didn’t do anything and were on their phones or talking about anything but math. There was a knock on the door and the kid in the front of the class got up to answer it. Two student council members walked in both wearing pink shirts. The girl was holding a basket of candy grams and the boy had a handful of roses in his hand. They began going around the classroom and gave out the gifts.

Steve got a few. There was one from Peggy, of course, the one from you which he laughed at, and two secret admirer ones. You wiggled your eyebrows as he ripped the Hershey’s kisses off the cards to eat.

“Here you go, Rogers.” The boy handed Steve a rose. You perked up as he took it.

“Peggy sent you a rose?” You asked.

“No. It’s from Bucky. He think he’s funny and had bought one since freshman year. He even drew a heart on the card this time, how thoughtful.” Steve was snickering as you swiped the card out of his hand. It was pure humour.

To: Steven G Rogers Just ‘cause you actually got the girl doesn’t mean you’re not getting a rose. - Buck ♥

You shook your head, smiling to yourself and placed the card back on Steve’s desk. The girl came around and placed three grams on your desk: Peggy, Sam and a half assed one from Natasha and Clint combined.

“And these are for you.” The boy extended his hand holding six roses. Your brows shot up.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Positive.”

You cautiously took the roses feeling a few eyes on you and hear a few whispers. You opened the first card seeing Bucky’s handwriting. There was one simple word written: Smile. You blinked and began opening the rest of the little cards seeing a single word on each: Laugh. Nose. Smarts. Funny. Everything.

You smiled to yourself feeling your cheeks warm in a blush. You wanted to tell him he was an idiot but you refrained, basking in the small moment of affection. Commercialized or not, it did make you feel giddy.

You jiggled holding your books and carrying the flowers to your locker. You were speed walking back to your locker so you could quickly put away your things and find Bucky. Peggy was there with her own rose in hand.

“So the rumour was true,” she motioned to the roses. “Who knew Bucky could be a romantic.”

“Hold these.” You gave her the flowers and tucked your books under your arm. Your fingers dialled through your lock combo, unclasping and opening the door.

A loud pop sounded startling those around you. Your heart was racing, body frozen as pink, red and white dust floated around in the air. Slowly you looked down at yourself seeing paint splattered to your front and a coating of chalk dust. It was everywhere: face, chest, legs, arms, hands. Peggy had her hands covering her mouth with a few paint hits on her clothing. Voices were murmuring with some phones out snapping pictures. Your books dropped to the floor as you wiped the paint away from your eyes and mouth.

There was some muffled laughter coming from down the hallway. You glanced over seeing Connie and her doll-like friends and a few jocks sniggering behind her.

“Oh, that’s for sure going to stain.” Connie quipped.

Your body heat was rising at an incredible rate from humiliation and anger. Peggy sharply turned on her heel, dropping the roses and marched her way over to Connie.

Connie straightened up, arms firmly folded across her chest with pursed lips.

“How childish can you be? Something doesn’t go your way so you hurt others?” Peggy’s voice was loud as she stormed over to the other girl. “Get over yourself! The only person that looks bad right now is you.”

“Do I Peggy? I’m not the one covered in paint.” Connie mused.

Peggy got closer.” You’re a pathetic bitch—“

Sam swooped in between Peggy and Connie before physical contact was made. He gently moved Peggy back telling her to relax.

“Carter. Anderson. Fury’s office now!” Mr Pierce broke through a cluster of students. He glanced to you, pointing. “You as well.”

Your teeth grinded together. You collected your books off the ground, shoving them into your locker and slammed the door shut. You followed behind the others and Pierce down to the main office.

Your fingers curled and uncurled as you sat in a cushioned chair in Principal Fury’s office. Peggy, Connie and you each had a good foot in between each other and no talking was allowed. Peggy was still steaming and Connie looked like a perfect princess as she sat checking her nails. You could cuss Connie to the moon but that still wouldn’t amount to anything.

It was silent, nothing but the clock on the wall ticking.

The door to Fury’s office opened and shut. His footsteps were loud and hard on the ground. Three student files were tossed onto his neatly organized desk. Your manila covered folder was on top with Peggy’s and Connie’s underneath. Fury stood behind his desk with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Valhalla does not accept bullying at any level. We are a community who help others,” the man in charge started. “Miss Carter, I can assume you would not like a strike on your perfect record? Brown, Dartmouth, and Cornell are the schools you applied to, correct?”

“That’s correct, sir. But I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong. I was standing up for my friend who was bullied by the other person in this room.” Peggy was matter of fact, a stern nod.

“Can you prove Miss Anderson did this?”

Peggy blinked. “I— No.”

Fury hummed, flipping open your file and scanned it over. “Five schools in seven years? Three high schools in four.”

You didn’t want to be in this room. You wish you could teleport to anywhere but here. “My mom and I move a lot.”

“Why’s that?”

You looked up from your lap, tipping your head to the side. “I don’t think that’s relevant to me getting sprayed by paint, sir.”

Fury nodded, turning his attention to Connie. “What were you doing at her locker, Miss Anderson?”

“My biology class is down that hallway, Mr Fury. I was just trying to walk back to my locker to go to lunch.” Connie’s tone was sweet like sugar, oozing with fabricated remarks.

There wasn’t anyway you could flat out prove Connie had set this up. But you knew in your bones that she was the mastermind behind it. Maybe she got one of the dumb basketball jocks to help her out. Either way it was sounding like nothing was going to be resolved right then and there. The office was going to start an “investigation” to see what they could find. Fury was continuing basic questions that weren’t assisting to the incident. Your time was wasting and the paint was drying to your skin and now ruined clothes.

In a quick motion you got up from the chair and flung open the door. Your feet moved quicker than you mind with Fury’s voice a distance away calling for you to come back. You had enough of Connie, enough of her jealous antics. It felt like a game and you were a be played wrong.

“Mr Barnes, I can’t let you and Mr Rogers into the office.”

“Just listen for a sec, Miss Hill--”

Vice Principal Hill and Bucky’s voices collided. He was arguing and she was trying to turn him away at the front desk. You kept walking, not even making eye contact. There was a break in Bucky’s voice when he caught sight of you. He got to the door before you did, grabbing your arm to halt you. His hands cupped your stained face, concern flickering through his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You pushed his hands away. “I’m covered in fucking paint, Bucky,” you glanced past him seeing Steve stare down at his feet. Your shoulders trembled in a sigh, closing your eyes. “Take me home.”

Bucky opened the office door and walked out after you. He shrugged off his letterman and draped it over your shoulders. You were pretty sure the paint probably wrecked your belongings. You and Bucky exited through the side door to the student parking lot. Not a word was said to his car or during the car ride to your home. You eyes stayed focused on the window. All you could smell was paint and chalk. He parked and you jumped out into the snow. You went around to the back of the house, opening the back door and went inside. It was quiet and you were grateful your mother took an afternoon shift at the hospital.

You shedded Bucky’s jacket and discarded your shoes. He followed you like a ghost, keeping his mouth zipped but you knew he wanted to ask you a million and a half questions. Immediately you turned on the shower upstairs, getting a dark towel and gathered fresh clothes from your room. You disappeared into the bathroom leaving him in your bedroom.

The water was warm as it dripped down your skin. The paint swirled at the bottom around the drain. At least it was coming off. You scrubbed your skin and your face free of the paint. You didn’t know how long you were in the shower until the water started to run cool and your were pruning. You dried yourself off and sat on the edge of the tub. One of the sweaters that you always worn was destroyed, the jeans were maybe salvageable. You tugged on the clean clothes and checked in the mirror to make sure there was no red or pink on your face before exiting the bathroom.

Bucky was sat at the edge of the bed, phone in hand. His head lifted when you closed the door.

“Do you know if Peggy’s alright?” You asked.

“Steve says she’s not in trouble but she’s pissed.” He said.

“Yeah, that makes two of us.” You sat down next to him, burying your face into your hands. “You can go back. Make it in time for your next class.”

“I’m not going back. Think you’re more important than English and weight lifting.” Bucky gently removed your hands. The back of your eyes prickled but it wasn’t worth spilling tears over Connie Anderson. She didn’t deserve that kind of satisfaction.

You pulled the sleeves down over your hands of the light sweater you had put on. “This is stupid right, everything about this is stupid?” You looked over at Bucky. “Does she actually think I’m going to cave in?”

Some part of you wanted to cave only because of how Connie was acting over a guy that didn’t even like her back anymore. Bucky had moved on and it was best she did too. She was stuck in a fantasy.

“I’ll talk to her.”

You gave him a look, shaking your head. “Because that worked so well the last time, right?” You didn’t mean to be so harsh to Bucky but realistically what more could he do, what more could anyone say?

Bucky enveloped you in his arms, pulling you back to lay on the bed. He murmured an apology, one that he didn’t need to say but that’s just how he was. And at the end of the day, he was with you.

“Hey Happy, can you get us two chocolate milkshakes and two burgers for me and my girl here.” Bucky shrugged off his jacket and occupied the chair across from you.

You dusted the snow off yourself, unzipping your jacket and removed your gloves. Happy’s was half vacant, a hum of voices chatting and the TV behind the bar top on to the New York Rangers game. You glanced over at the burly man who owned the diner as he began to make the milkshakes and place in the order for food.

“Heard there was boys movie night tonight.” You said to Bucky.

He nodded, “Yeah decided to ditch it. Besides, Stevie will probably ditch halfway to go see Peggy so no one can be mad at me.”

You smiled lightly as the two milkshakes were placed in front of you. The whipped cream was homemade and spiralled upward high with a cherry on top. You licked some of the cream off the straw and popped the cherry into your mouth. Bucky leaned back in his chair, gazing over at the TV for a few moments to watch the hockey game. From what you understood this was a date, well, you had been to Happy’s plenty of times but there were usually five other people accompanying. Plus Bucky had loosely indicated it was one, a “food date” as he called it. His attention turned to you, the fluorescent lights didn’t do his blue eyes enough justice.

He cracked a smile at your unintentional staring. Your eyes flickered to the table, moving your milkshake glass closer to you. “Isn’t it counteractive to get a milkshake when it’s cold outside?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But it’s a rule that you have to get one when you’re here.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“Me.”

Of course, you laughed to yourself. You sipped on the ice cream drink, lashing fluttering as you peered over at Bucky. You had nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach. The entire week your mind had been swirling from the kiss to bowling to now. You had accepted the fact that yes, you had a crush on Bucky Barnes and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

“I like your laugh, you know.” Bucky commented nonchalantly.

One of your brows arched. “You like my laugh?” He confirmed with a nod. You shifted in your seat and stirred around the milkshake. “What else do you like about me?”

Admittedly you were curious because out of everyone in Valhalla, somehow Bucky was struck by you.

“Busting down the gate with a heavy question,” he joked lightly. “I like your smile, I like that you’re funny and can take a joke especially hanging around Clint. You’re smart, real smart. And I like your nose.”

Your head tipped. “You like my nose?”

“Yeah, I like your nose.” He replied, picking up a spoon to scoop some ice cream out of the glass. “I like everything about you.”

Your stomach flipped upside down. He didn’t even know everything about you but you were sinking in the feeling. Happy startled you as he came around with two red baskets that had your burger and fries. You smiled politely, saying thank you as you took the ketchup bottle. Bucky was already a quarter into his burger by the time you had eaten three fries.

You still had your cautious guard but for now you’d wade in the waves.

Friday was a bust. You didn’t get out of bed, nor did you have the will to go to school. After you mother had heard what happened with Connie, she had taken it upon herself to call Fury to give him a piece of her mind. You could hear her stern talk from the kitchen all the way up behind your closed bedroom door. You rolled over, covering your ears with the pillow.

By Monday morning your anger had passed. Your things had been moved into Peggy’s locker a hallway over since yours was still covered in the festive paint. There were a few stares in the hallway as you walked on by fellow students. You kept your head held high and ignored everything around you. Steve gave you a short hug upon your arrival to math but spoke nothing of the situation which you silently thanked him for. It was better to move on instead of moping about it.

Bucky was there outside of the classroom when the bell rang having dipped class early. You gave him a small smile, storing your books in his locker.

“Do you wanna eat here or do you want go out?” He asked.

He had hesitancy in his voice wondering whether it was a good idea to go into the cafeteria where Connie would be. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together and moved forward to the lunch area. Some freshmen shuffled out of the way as you strolled in with Bucky. Your table was claimed already by Sam and Natasha, Sam waving you over.

“Go ahead, I’ll be a sec.” You let go of Bucky’s hand.

You pivoted on your heel and set straight in the direction of Connie’s table. The laughter coming from the table died down as your approached the table. You took at glance at the kids before settling your sharp eye on Connie.

“Connie,” you faux smiled. “I wanted to thank you. I want to thank you for spraying me paint in front of fifty kids and humiliating me. I felt so bad at first for myself but then I realized I feel bad for you. I am so sorry that you think you have to do things like this because your self esteem is so poor. Maybe if you were a little nicer your ugly wouldn’t be on the outside like it is on the inside. So thank you, Connie, and stay away from my friends, me, and my boyfriend.”

Connie’s eyes were glaring like daggers, her fingers gripping her drink with enmity. You twisted back to see Bucky still standing where you had left him with Steve, Peggy, and Clint. Peggy had a smug grin on her face, waving to Connie in spite.

“Are we just going standing here or going to eat lunch?” You asked them.

“After you, m’lady.” Clint motioned courteously.

You led the way to the food line, Bucky’s arm slinging over your shoulder. “So, boyfriend?”

“Status pending.” You pushed his side, smiling. He stopped you before the line, a longing look in his eye before he firmly pressed his lips to yours. Your smile grew bigger. Status approved.

bucky list: @buckychrist @bvcks @lila-bard @stanclub @stardustparker @buckybarnesppreciationsociety @sweetwaterprincess @demongirl0913 @queenlydias @dontpanc @kingsebstan  @cauraphernelia @yourwonderbelle @beauty-who-doesnt-need-a-beast @bleedlikerubies @fallenaristocat @bubblybuckybarnes @my-world97 @mystic-scripture @ragnarokbarnes @kali-rambles @pao-prazz @thorins-queen-of-erebor @eventyyr @abbadontherisingqueen @lovinglokiforever @justasimpleassbitch @red-wallflowers @brooklynightsky @hellaqueerangelofthelord @yknott81 @rvmanova @blame-the-russo-bros@buckybarneshairpullingkink @laurfangirl424 @buckyparkerish @sarcasticallysarah

CYM *tags open*: @villainsaremorerelatable @akamaiden @sofreakinmanyfandoms @smolbeanthings @autumnstarks @memory-of-a-goldfish @lizfawn @moonstruckhargrove @moonbeambucky@csigeoblue @sgtbookybarnes @marco-hvittyvik @tempestistired @trust-me-im-joly @in-the-potterhead-know @foenixphire @sergeantbannerbarnes @wi-atch-recs

[ryukogo]

stupid goddamn conformist festivals

Summary: It was just another stupid conformist festival the adults of South Park had instated to get everyone out of their houses and ‘having fun’. So why was he nearing the peak of a rollercoaster gripping Karen McCormick’s hand for dear life?

Prompt: Festival - Festivals are an essential part of life that everyone should experience at least once or twice. The kind of festivals held all over the country are beautifully varied and fun. Traditional festivals like art shows, ceremonies, and cook-offs are lovely, but so are the ones full of carnival rides, food trucks and games. Is your muse determined to win that big prize for their crush? Are they participating in a competition that they want to show off? What kind of specialty has your character created to share with the town? Nearly every town holds at least one festival in the summer months. What kind of festival has South Park thought up this time?

Words: 1597

Link is in the title if you wish to read it on AO3!

“No.”

“Hear me out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just a daaaaaaaay, Irkle Firkle.”

“I will set your stupid floppy egg head on fire if you call me ‘Irkle Firkle’ one more time, Broflovski,” Firkle warns, but to the green eyed freckled Canadian boy it’s an empty threat more than anything, so there is no fear in his eyes as he drapes an arm over his Goth best friend’s shoulder (even if he denies being best friends with this disgusting egg headed immigrant who can’t even keep his goddamn trash can mouth closed long enough to prevent birds from flying into it), waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“C’mooon. Do it for me.”

As he predicted, Firkle bats him away with the practiced motions of an exasperated man. “You know that the only thing I’ll ever do for you is murder someone, and that’s only because I owe you a favor that I can’t seem to goddamn repay.”

“Oh, you’ve repaid me plenty of times,” Ike smiles cattily. “It’s just that every time you think you’re finally off scot-free, you start owing me again.”

“Unfortunately,” is Firkle’s grumbled response, and the Canadian opens his mouth. “Isaac Broflovski, I am not going to the Festival of the Hoohas or Whatevers with you conformists.”

Ike sighs, but he’s still smiling. He has two trump cards. “Come oooon. Do it for Karen.”

“... Nice try,” Firkle’s voice is strong, but, having been one of three best friends to the violet eyed boy for so long, Ike was able to notice the waver in his resolve. An opening. “Karen will enjoy the festival just fine without me. You and I both know this.”

“Sure,” Ike agrees. “But she’d enjoy it even more if you came along, right?”

“Whatever.”

“How conformist of a reply for you,” Ike teases. He gets a pillow to the face, and he cackles before pulling out his final trump card. “Speaking of conformist... I hear the other three Goths aren’t going.”

“So?” Firkle stares at him like he’s grown another head. “We’re not conformists. We’re not doing whatever lackadaisical thing the damn town has set up this year when it’s the same every year - something boring and quite frankly disgusting.”

The smile on Ike’s face is unsettling. “So all four of you aren’t going.”

“Yes?”

“That means...” Ike gasps dramatically, flopping down on Firkle’s lap with the back of a hand to his forehead. “Oh, noooo, dear Firkle, you’re... you’re conforming to them! You’re a conformist!”

Firkle’s eye twitches. Ike can’t help the victorious smirk on his face.

Bingo.

-=-=-=-

“I can’t believe you came!” Karen squeaks, and it’s a wonder Firkle’s arm hasn’t fallen off yet, what with the way the brunette had been excitedly jumping up and down while clinging to his arm, as if she couldn’t believe it was really him.

He can’t hurt her, so he firmly but gently pushes her hands off his arm. “I’m being nonconformist right now, that’s the only reason.”

“How is this-” Ruby gestures to the whole setup. “-being nonconformist? This, one of the most conformist setups in the whole world?”

Firkle scowls. “Go ask your boyfriend, then.”

“Ike,” Ruby immediately addresses, which makes Ike freeze. Firkle can barely hold back a smirk at the deer-in-headlights look the Canadian has, because the guy’s had a disgusting crush on the redheaded Tucker daughter since third grade and any acknowledgment in the romantic sense had him frozen in place. Revenge, fucker. “Firkle won’t tell me how this is nonconformist. Since I’m assuming he’s referring to you, explain this for me.”

Ike stumbles through the words of the explanation - horribly. It makes Firkle actually crack a genuine smile for once, and this smile catches Karen’s eye. She turns to look at him, like really look at him, and, upon feeling her gaze, he glances at her. Karen’s smile is nothing but sweet and sunshiney - so pure, so innocent, that it makes the corners of Firkle’s mouth twitch upward ever so slightly.

It’s an awkward smile, but Karen’s willing to take it.

Ruby’s not impressed by Ike’s explanation, evidently, because she turns Firkle around to face her again. “That was the dumbest explanation you ever had Ike explain for you.”

“Hey, it’s not his fault...” Karen tries. “I mean, by all means, it’s technically being nonconformist.”

Ruby pats Karen’s cheek. “If that applied to everything, that means I’m a nonconformist too. Don’t worry, Karen - we’ll get this boy admitting he’s conforming to us soon.”

“I will fucking stab you and leave you to die for the birds to feed on your carcass.”

“Do you really want my big brother coming after you, Firkle?”

Ike, Karen, and Firkle all envision Craig, in all his Super Craig glory. They envision the lightning sparks crackling from his eyes, and, simultaneously, they all seem to shudder. Even Firkle.

“... No.”

Ruby smiles. Slightly. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, where do we go first?”

“I’d love the merry go round!” Karen smiles.

Ike yawns. “Booooring. Let’s go rollercoaster. They don’t have the rollercoaster every year, so this is gonna be great!”

“I want no part in this,” Firkle grumbles. “I’ll be in the smoking area if anyone needs me.”

Ike pulls on his fringe, making him yelp. “You’re coming with us, you flavored lipgloss wearing loser. Ruby’ll throttle you if you go anywhere else.”

“I won’t throttle him,” Ruby says matter-of-factly. “I’ll choke him with sparkly pink glitter and have him buried in a pretty pink casket decorated with flowers and ponies, after which I’ll find some random old man on the street and take him to where you’re buried. The old fart will then dance on your grave.”

Silence.

“That is oddly specific,” Firkle ends up saying, after some time.

“I’ve had some time to think creatively.”

“Well, either way,” Karen smiles. “Where are we going? I’m fine with anything.”

“Rollercoaster,” Ike declares.

“Ferris wheel,” Ruby says afterwards.

“Okay, Ferris wheel it is, then!” Ike amends immediately after.

Firkle palms his face in evident frustration. “No. No way. I’m fucking leaving. I’m not going on the Ferris wheel with you dumb fucks.”

“Then...” Karen looks down shyly, scuffing her heel on the ground. Firkle turns to look at her. “... If you don’t want to accompany those two to the Ferris wheel, then do you want to, um, accompany me, maybe?”

Firkle looks at her, then at Ike and Ruby.

He takes the saner option immediately.

-=-=-=-

It was just another stupid conformist festival the adults of South Park had instated to get everyone out of their houses and ‘having fun’.

So why was he nearing the peak of a rollercoaster gripping Karen McCormick’s hand for dear life?

Oh, right. He didn’t want to be stuck thirdwheeling Ike Broflovski and Ruby Tucker.

“You ready, Firkle?” Karen ask-yells at him, and he can tell she’s terrified, but also excited to be on the rollercoaster - her eyes were way too expressive for her own good.

Firkle, despite himself, shakes his head vigorously. No, he is not fucking prepared for this. If Ike had been here he’d definitely say yes, he’s not scared of some dumb rollercoaster, but it was Karen here with him now. Karen, who never judged anyone for anything. Karen, one of the nicest people in South Park next to Nichole Daniels.

Karen, who was one of three people whose smile turned Firkle’s insides into mush.

(The other two were probably in the Ferris wheel together. Fucking losers.)

The rollercoaster dips down. Both of them screech.

-=-=-=-

“You look like hell,” Ruby says as Karen and Firkle shakily exit the rollercoaster area. She’s holding a cotton candy stick in both hands, and as they near her and Ike, she hands Firkle one, and Karen the other, before taking hers from Ike.

Karen’s knees are knocking together as she collapses on the nearest bench, cotton candy stick quivering in her grip. “That was fun! Scary, but fun!”

“It was the fucking worst,” Firkle growls, angrily tearing at his cotton candy, before pausing at its sweetness.

“So, how was the Ferris wheel?” Karen asks them, and surprisingly enough, Ruby’s cheeks actually tint pink while Ike starts sporting his dumb Cheshire Cat Canadian grin. This makes both Karen and Firkle stare at them, quietly demanding answers.

Ike shushes them. “Secret, secret. Not telling you both anything.”

“You’re terrible, Ike!” Karen whines before taking Firkle by the sleeve. “C’mon, Firkle, let’s go to the stands and win some stuffies. Maybe we’ll find something Goth for you to take home today!”

“That is downright impossible,” Firkle tries to argue, but by this point, Karen is already halfway towards them - and him along with her.

Once they are a good few feet away, Ruby turns to Ike. “You played it up too much. Now the rumors are going to start flying.”

“It’s South Park. Bound to happen eventually,” Ike stretches and eats his corndog thoughtfully. “‘Sides, it’s fun messing with those two. ‘Specially Firkle, since he thinks I’m the biggest dumbass this side of South Park.”

“Well, you are.”

“No, that title is reserved for Filmore.”

Ruby opens her mouth, and closes it. “Fair point.” Beat. “Still, you could’ve been a lot less subtle about the implications.”

“Well, I mean... all I did was tell you I liked you and kissed you on the cheek at the peak of the Ferris wheel before you attacked my face,” Ike mentions, almost smugly. “It’s not my fault they thought something else happened.”

He hated to admit it, but the look on Ruby’s face was something he’d relish for quite a long time.