#guess who is gonna be playing this on a loop while she does drafts

[redhead-reporter]

IS IT OCTOBER 20TH YET ?!?!?!

#guess who is gonna be playing this on a loop while she does drafts #this girl that's who #º ✧ 。not the girl i was or used to be insomniac verse #º ✧ 。 let’s not make this all about business aesthetic #Youtube

[radbutsafe]

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

#ask meme #ask rad shit #writing #writing by rad #fanfic #reina girl u put me thru it I swear lol #thank u for sending!! #ur amazing!!!!

[lifeinahole27]

Fic Bits 2018: Part 3

SO. One happy morning, I went to post this from my drafts and my dumb fat finger hit “delete” instead of “queue” and then I got sucked into work forever and ever and ever and never got around to posting part 3 of these. Incredibly delayed but here are the ones that fit into canon or headcanon or canon-adjacent. 

Included in this pack: 

“Winter Bliss Firsts” - a little look at how Emma and Killian celebrate their first holiday season after the dust from the Black Fairy all settles. Fluff - G.

“In His Own Eyes” - I got a request for whump, which is not something I write. Ever. So this is a bit of reflection. Killian-centric, slight angst? - PG-13.

“A Definite Improvement” - Some Captain Cobra and the evolution of their relationship after life has settled down. Fluff - PG? Sure.

“Winter Bliss Firsts”

With the Black Fairy vanquished and their lives back on track, Emma and Killian soon find a rhythm as they settle into their new partnerships – both as husband and wife, and sheriff and deputy.

Emma’s favorite is when winter finally hits in full force, the Maine weather forecasts getting bleaker by the day, to most.

To Emma, it means that less people will be out trying to cause trouble in their magical little town, which means they aren’t really needed for patrol a majority of the time.

If the Bug won’t even move from the curb, then who else is going to really try to start something out there in the blizzard?

Day after day, they sink into their little haven; they light the fireplace and curl up on the couch, enjoying the peace and solitude when it’s just them, and welcoming Henry into their space when he’s not spending time with Regina.

The greatest thing about all of this is that they never had to figure out custody or a schedule – Henry just drifts between the households, spending time with his mothers and his step-father as if it was the most natural set-up of all.

They’re never grasping for their alone time, and they’re never feeling neglected at their happy Victorian household.

When it’s Christmas time, Emma makes Killian go out to find a live tree for the first time in his life. He and David end up with the job of cutting down and hauling the trees.  

Emma and Snow “help” from the sidelines. Henry documents everything with both camera and pen, adding the tale to their storybooks.

Despite the fact that he knows almost nothing of the holiday, Killian easily goes along with the decorating, the baking, the traditions.

He is especially fond of the small cluster of mistletoe she posts above the door, kissing her every chance they get.

Emma enjoys watching him acclimate even further into modern living, still fascinated by the glimpses of Enchanted Forest and pirate that she sees peek out at random times.

But as the winter goes, so does his confusion to a lot of pop culture references.

The Christmas tunes easily get hummed and sung when she’s least expecting him to join in.

But he still throws down doubloons at Granny’s as a form of payment.

(Actually, she’s pretty sure that’s strictly for the reaction he gets from Granny, but he never says one way or the other.)

What she does know is that no matter how cold it gets outside, she always has Killian by her side to keep her warm.

Every once in a while, Emma thinks of the way he told her there’d be no getting rid of him after their wedding day.

And really? She couldn’t be more thankful that he was telling the truth about that.

“In His Own Eyes”

Despite his nature of being a bit of a scoundrel, Captain Hook is getting tired of all the times he’s been tied or chained to items since meeting Emma Swan.

There’s the knife to his throat, shortly followed by being tied to a tree and offered as food to an ogre. It reminds him of being trapped against the mast of his ship when Rumplestiltskin took his hand and his love, and he doesn’t like it one single bit.

She chains him up at the giant’s lair, refusing to believe he could be helping her – to be fair, he’s been waffling at best on whose side he’s on – but still, the nerve.

Then there’s Cora trapping him against the wall of that cave, his own Hook pulling at the fabric on his chest. His insides heave at the thought of this woman, but if she’s his only way to skin a crocodile, then he has to stay on course.

The darkness of his heart and soul consumes him so often that he genuinely doesn’t care if it’s bodily harm or a verbal lashing from any of these supposed heroes. All he knows is that he will have his revenge, even if he has to get hit by a bloody motor vehicle directly after.

Which is a good thing, since that’s exactly what seems to have happened.

When Killian awakes in the hospital, it’s to a chain around his wrist – again – and Emma Swan telling him that his foe is still alive. With magic. And angry.

“If I were to pick dead guy of the year, I’d pick you.”

He supposes, of course, that it wouldn’t be all that terrible to finally be free of this world and to join up with his Milah in the great beyond.

A trip to New York City to kill the Crocodile, and another journey being tied up, followed by another failure.

Time, and time, and time again, he fails and fails and fails. If he could just get his damn revenge and be on with life, it wouldn’t be so bad.

But somewhere in there he begins to believe in living again.

It might have something to do with the unstoppable force that is Emma Swan and her band of happy heroes.

It could be that kiss in Neverland.

It could be that, for the first time since he was under his brother’s command, he wants to do the good thing – the right thing.

And then it all gets taken away from him again, thanks to Pan’s bloody curse, and he’s never going to see her again.

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you,” he tells her, just before they depart.

“Good.”

He thought having Milah die in front of him was bad enough, but having his second chance at love ripped away – to know that he has to live his life without her while she lives her life without him – hurts as much as if he’d watched her die, too.

Regardless of what happened in their missing year, all Killian knows is that he did not expect his reunion with Emma to result in injury to his person.

But he supposes even that hurts less than finding out she’s found someone new.

He seems to be destined for heartache and heartbreak, no matter how he tries.

“A Definite Improvement”

There’s a large pit of disappointment in Killian’s stomach when he walks outside with the video game controller and finds that it was all a ruse.

He’s been struggling lately to connect with Henry, and figured it was about time they started bonding. Of course, it all goes much deeper than that.

It’s not until much later that it all gets a little easier with the lad – after the world has quieted down and they aren’t in constant fear for Emma’s life.

Operation Best Man was a success, and after everything that went awry has settled, the ease with which they find harmony is astonishing.

It’s a rainy day several months after he and Emma have been married that Henry comes into the living room and turns on his video game system, and Killian tilts his head a little.

“I did tell you I’d teach you,” Henry says, handing over one of the controllers.

Killian does his best not to look too excited. Emma is out of the house visiting her parents so this is something purely for the benefit of bonding, no secondary alternatives.

After a few attempts at one of the games, however, it’s obvious it’s not going to work.

Killian was correct all that time ago when he said that the games weren’t meant for people like him. He understands what to do, and the storyline, and how he’s supposed to play, but with one less hand, he just can’t push all the buttons he’s supposed to, even if he braces it on his leg and uses his thumb on one side and the rest of his fingers on the other. It’s just no use.

“Why don’t you keep playing, and I’ll just watch?”

The next day, the system disappears from the living room, and Killian looks at the vacant spot sadly, knowing that while he and Henry have plenty to bond over, this is something that just wasn’t meant to be.

Two weeks later, Henry comes barreling down the stairs, flying out the door and down the walkway to meet one of the delivery people. He has no idea how mail gets transferred into a town that isn’t on the map but he knows better than to question such things at this point.

When Henry comes back in, he immediately goes to the kitchen and to the drawer where they hide all their miscellaneous items. He can hear the box cutter being used, and the shuffling of something being removed from a box, but he focuses on the book he’s reading, thinking that Henry has just ordered an item for himself.

He’s not entirely wrong; Henry has purchased what he calls a Wii.

“I used all my allowance and got mom to advance me some for the next month so I could order this,” he explains as he plugs in various items and finds batteries and puts a strange bar beneath their television.

Killian can feel how hard his eyebrows are drawn down in confusion, but Henry looks so excited.

“I’ll explain as we go,” he says, holding out a strange item for Killian to take hold of. “You slide that loop around your wrist and hold the controller like this.”

Killian follows the instructions, waiting as Henry fiddles with something else.

“Okay, we’re gonna make your Mii.”

“My what now?”

“Just look at the screen and press the buttons I tell you to.”

“Henry, this small thing looks nothing like me.”

“It’s not supposed to be a ringer, Killian.”

“There’s no option for facial hair.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to live without the constant three day stubble.”

“Says the young man who has three day stubble at present and it’s just a clean face.”

“I can walk away, you know.”

“Fine, fine. Get on with it… Those aren’t my eyes.”

“No, but those are your eyebrows.”

Killian’s eyebrow jumps up at the comment.

“See! There it is!”

“Why do my eyes look like that now?”

“Those are what your eyes look like when you look at my mom.”

“I would bloody hope so, she’s my wife.”

“You just like saying that.”

“Damn right I do. What do I do with this mini-me?”

“It’s just a Mii. And we’re going to play games with him now.”

“We tried this, lad.”

“We tried old school. Now we’re going with motion technology. There’s another part we could use, but we’ll skip the games that use that so you don’t have to be left out.”

He almost cries.

That’s a lie; he does cry. But he wipes it away quickly as Henry is explaining how they’re going to play something called “tennis” and he is awful at it at first but soon he’s catching on.

“Wait wait, pause the game,” he tells Henry after no more than twenty minutes of game play.

He shuffles the strap off his wrist and sprints upstairs, flinging off vest and button-up shirt as he goes, finding one of the t-shirts he normally reserves for sleeping in during cold nights.

When Emma arrives home from work, he and Henry have both soaked through their shirts and have exhausted their games list.

“Should… should I even ask?”

Both of them shake their heads, too tired to even try speaking as they lie on the pieces of furniture closes to them.

She comes back after she sets down her keys and hangs up her jacket, handing them each a tall glass of water and grabbing one of the remotes off the coffee table.

“I’ll take on whoever recovers first. Loser makes dinner tonight,” she states matter-of-factly. Her shoes are off, she’s back in leggings and a t-shirt, and her hair is tied up. Killian idly wonders when she managed to change when he swears she was only home for seconds before she brought them water.

Then he looks across at Henry, and Henry looks back at him, and they’re both scrambling from their prone positions trying to grab for the remote because that’s a challenge they’re willing to take on.

(They both end up making dinner, because they both lose to Emma despite their very best efforts and hours of practice.)

(“Beginner’s luck,” Emma says, her smile saying otherwise as she sits on the counter and watches them work side-by-side.)

(Killian wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#captain swan ff #cs ff #captain swan #captain cobra #sarah writes ff #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #fic bits 2018

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 30

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Feels that’s about it I think. 

A/N: Chapter. Fucking. THIRTY. How the hell?! Y’all fucking rock for all the love and support you give this series (and me). 

I honestly didn’t think the last chapter would go over so well because of the content but I was so wrong. I hope this one is kind of a salve even though it hurts in a different way (for me anyway). 

Also, I think I got my tags sorted but if I missed you please let me know! 

Tags are open!

“Bucky? Do you want me to leave?”

-

He stares forward, head once again thudding into the wall, “No,” his voice is heavy with emotion, “God help me, but no…” He covers his face with his left hand. Before continuing he takes a few shaky breaths, “But I want you to be safe.”

You groan, “You’re going to need to let that go if this is gonna work,” you say tone stern. “I am not, and will not be safe. I’m a liability, to myself and everyone around me in one way or another, just like you.” You attempt a light tone, "Unlike you I’ve been a liability my whole life… so…”  He looks at you now, a question on his face.

“My mom drilled it into my head that I wasn’t normal and that being a freak was dangerous. I needed to be fixed so I could be normal.” You stand and move beside him, “So, outside of the church no one was to know. Honestly, it was sheer luck one of them didn’t turn me in sooner. Even so, she knew, that people would want this and that put us at risk.”

“That’s not the same,” he sighs.

Leaning against the wall next to him you sigh, “Look, it could have just as easily been me riding out a flashback tonight. Hell, I’ve been having them since I was a teenager. I could attack you in my sleep and never know I’m doing it if the dream is bad enough and my power gets out of control.”

“But it wasn’t-“

Cutting him off you hold up a hand, “You got triggered today. That’s not your fault. I don’t know if it was just getting startled by Mr. Goldstein or everything from the weekend or both. I wasn’t right today either, not fully.” His right-hand slides to touch yours and you take it gently, not wanting to move his arm too much.

“I noticed. I thought of saying something but I just…” He tapers off.

“Same,” you sigh. “In our defense, we’ve only known each other for four days. I think we are allowed to not be perfect at communicating yet.”

He snorts, “Four days. Goddamn.”

“Tell me about it.” You look over at him, his eyes are tilted up to the sky.

“That was part of it,” he says, tone low. “I haven’t…” He looks at you, eyes glassy, “Even just having someone… close is… strange…” It’s like he can’t quite find the words to express this but he’s trying. His fingers squeeze yours a bit, “Not to mention…”

“Yeah.”

The edges of his mouth lift just a bit. “I didn’t expect it. Not that I don’t… Not that it’s…” You give his hand a light squeeze back to indicate you get it. “Just thought I could… I don’t know… do something decent.”

“You did.” He just shrugs, clearly disagreeing.  

His eyes are back on the sky, “Then I let him get the drop on me, I… can’t let my guard down like that. Not in public.”

“You were in a place you knew, you were comfortable yo-“

“Doesn’t matter.” His tone is no-nonsense, “There are too many people who could be, probably are, looking for me. A hell of a lot more than just Hydra.” You knew this, had even thought it when you’d seen him on Friday. “And if someone gets to me…” They could get to you.

You wish, desperately, that you were brave enough to not be terrified at the thought. Being taken in would be worse than anything… almost worse than anything. Looking at him the horrible notion of losing him crosses your mind. It makes your stomach turn.

A shudder shakes his whole body, “You have no clue the extent of what I’ve done, Y/N.”

This sits on you for a moment. He wasn’t wrong, you didn’t know, but there was plenty of blood on your hands too. “I’ve done things too, Bucky… don’t forget-“

He laughs bitterly, cutting you off, “Are you wanting to compare body counts? Because trust me Y/N, you don’t come close…” The look on his face is twisted, dark, hollow. You swallow hard.

“It wasn’t like you had a choice.”

“Again, doesn’t matter. People are shit at seeing grey areas… I’m not even sure if…” He shakes his head, “If they can take me, they will.” The vastness ‘they’ implies opens a black hole of dread sucking away at any words either of you has for a while.  

“I can’t let that happen… not yet,” he says, pulling you back. You’re about to ask what he means by that but he keeps going, “Then-“ his voice cracks and he clenches his jaw, eyes squeeze shut, you see a tear slide down his cheek.

Without hesitation you lean up and kiss it away, tasting the salt on your lips. Bucky, looks at you slowly, a sad smile on his face. Every part of you wants to stop talking about these things that hurt him but you know this is necessary. If there’s any chance at either of you being able to make it through this you had to be able to talk about these things… Talk through them.

“Then he mentioned the camps, he was just a kid, and…” He digs the fingers of his left hand into his thigh, trying to hold onto composure in any way he can. “It hit me then, really hit me. For the first time since…” Since he got out, are the unspoken words hanging in the air. “I’m 97 years old… Old enough to have fought a war when he was just a kid.

“I should be a wrinkled old man, or dead, fuck I should be dead multiple times over by now. But… no. He calls me kid.” Something between a laugh and a sob escapes him and he leans forward. You wrap your left arm around him, though he doesn’t lean into you.

“I… can’t imagine. But…” You reach for something that may seem like a comfort, “Bucky, for all you know he’s here today because you signed up to-“

Another loud bitter laugh shakes him and you pull your arm back. He looks at you, “I didn’t sign up for shit.” You look at him confused, pretty certain you had read that he’d enlisted.

He shakes his head and leans back, eyes up, on the sky, “Just another thing they got wrong.” Another laugh, “You think I’m some noble hero from a bygone era don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “That’s how they painted me anyway. Only Howler to give his life in combat like it was some great honor. Fuck.”  His fist presses into the indention from earlier and grinds into the cracked concrete.

“Death isn’t an honor.” He punches his fist into the spot again, “Death is why I didn’t enlist. People went into the army and fucking died. I had a family, sisters and my ma to look after. And Steve, Jesus… left to his own devices he would have gotten himself killed in weeks.” He huffs a half laugh, “Guess I should have given him more credit, he did something much stupider than dying.” You make a note to ask him what the hell that could mean later. “Punk,” he says under his breath.

“So… drafted…”

“Yeah, fucking drafted.” He sighs, “Realized I could shoot straight, stuck a rifle in my hand, and told me to kill the right people… Guess I’ve been stuck doing that in one way or another since 1942.”

And none of it was ever his choice… This combination of rage and heartbreak is familiar, you’ve felt it since you ran to Brooklyn and found your family decimated, now you feel it toward every single person who played a role in hurting this man.

He shrugs, “It all just…”

“Was too much,” you move a lock of hair behind his ear and he smiles a half smile without looking at you.

“Yeah.” He sits in silence for a minute.

When he turns to look at you his expression is haunted, “Then I… I dreamt…” His right-hand lifts, slowly, he grimaces at the movement, the joint still swollen and painful. He does it anyway and traces the scar on your left cheek. The easiest way to tell you what he was trapped in without having to say the words.

“Remember, that story isn’t all bad, Bucky.”

“Only the bad is what was playing on loop, though… even after I woke up. Seeing… hurting you… fuck.” You think he’s about to break entirely but he goes on. “And then there was… the time after…” When he choked you. “And… others.” He swallows hard. “Others I couldn’t… or didn’t care to help all right here,” he gestures around.

Voice shaking he continues, “And I…” His eyes close, jaw tight. He opens them again, some internal anger darkening them, “I am a monster, Y/N. You don’t deserve more monsters in your life.”

You can’t help but smile, “Bucky…” Shifting your position you lay your right hand over his heart and cup his face with your left, “My monster sees your monster. She’s not afraid. Neither am I.”

Tags:

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius  @auskitty @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #buckt barnes x reader #bucky #the winter solider x reader

[boobdolan]

a review of melodrama (2017) by lorde

hey what’s up it’s your boy b-dawg. the b is for boobs as in breasts. this post is a track-by-track review of melodrama, the grammy-nominated sophomore studio album by ella yelich-o’ connor (aka lorde), a new zealand singer-songwriter who likes to dance funny and eat onions. her first album was pure heroine which was pretty big bc i think people (angsty teens) related to her songs about being an angsty teen.

i’m gonna keep it real with you chief. when i first heard green light (the lead single from the album) i thought it was pretty ass. but you know what. i’m an ass man despite my username. so eventually by some karmic circumstance i was reintroduced to the album and i realised: “hey! this is pretty dope! 😎” and then i ended up writing a 4000-word extended essay on it for the IB. but that’s another story.

green light is also the first track on the album, and it’s a hella effective one. with its intro bringing listeners acapella ella™️ over sparse piano chords, it kicks open the door to the sound of melodrama and immediately subverts any expectations for a pure heroine 2.0. as the song progresses we get additional elements of new and old - the boom-bap drums recall the hip-hop influences that permeated pure heroine, while her high-pitched backing vocals in the chorus introduce listeners to new vocal stylings from a singer who was previously known for being a Cool Bean who was Too Cool for all that stuff.

as the maximalist bop green light ends, listeners are thrown even further away from the sound of pure heroine with sober. personal note: sober was the song i most liked on the album upon first listen. and I can see why. it’s because i’ve got good taste! from the spacey uber-processed backing vocals to the bongo beat to the horns in the chorus, the song’s really unlike much else in the pop scene today. i especially like the “night, midnight, lose my mind” intro because when i first heard it i was like “wtf???? cool 🤠” anyway, point is, ella and her bf did well on this track.

at this point one might think, “this girl has a thing for acapella intros to her songs”. and she does! homemade dynamite starts, like an action movie, in situ, with its musings about top gun and the house party that the album is conceptually based around. one thing i love about the song is its synths. the 80s inspiration is obvious, with the synth pad emulating the iconic Fairlight sound on kate bush’s running up that hill. however, the moodiness of the synth pad is contrasted with a sprightly riff that comes in every now and then, emphasising that Potent Teenage Mix of Emotions™️ that the album is focused around. lorde also uses contrast in her lyrics, pairing wordy, literary, stream-of-consciousness style verses with almost childish phrases like “know I think you’re awesome, right???” it’s things like this that really encapsulate the state of being teenaged to me - that uncertain transitional period between adolescence and adulthood.

the following song starts with a very indie-sounding guitar, which is an unconventional sound for a lorde song. but the louvre is so typically lordey in that it shows off one of her greatest skills - the ability to create memorable, quotable lines with unique phrasing. who else would think of stammering the line “i overthink your punctuation use”?? who else would think of using a spoken “broadcast the boom boom boom boom and make ‘em all dance to it” as a hook??? another thing of note in this song is its extended U2-esque instrumental outro, courtesy of jack antonoff. sometimes when i listen to it, i understand why ella is banging him.

jack then mumbles the intro to the next song and starts playing the piano. after a few bars, ella joins him and her voice basically has sex with his tinkling on the ivories. liability is objectively great. lyrically, she reaches mind-bending extremes that many of her contemporaries can only dream of achieving. there’s a verse where she goes “home, into the arms of the girl that [she] loves” which is very interestingly constructed - it hits listeners with the initial shock of “oh wait is ella coming out” and just Leaves It for a few lines. and theN BOOM!!!! she’s actually talking about herself. that’s pretty cool. one other thing is her rhyme scheme in the line “the truth is, i am a toy that people enjoy ‘til all of their tricks don’t work anymore” which has a devastating effect that always gets me, even though it greatly takes advantage of her bananies voice.

now the listener is halfway through the album, and at this point they’re likely as hard as the feelings in the title of the next song. hard feelings/loveless brings us back into the world of electronic drums and synths after the minimalism of liability, and it does so excellently, providing an ambient atmosphere with its muffled beat and echoey distorted guitar. this song used to be one of my least favourites on the album because I thought the L O V E L E S S chant in the second part sounded kinda dumb and edgy. but then i watched lorde’s performance of the song for VEVO and ?????? WtF????? it really shines with a small choir and a boombox. fantastic. i also appreciate the little paul simon sample that bridges the two parts together - it’s a rare example of lorde wearing her influences on her sleeve for this album. also paul simon is one cool mf. i pop my pussy to graceland 24/7. 😎👌

taking a note from jack antonoff’s albums, the next song is a reprise, which have been used by many artists after the beatles to say “hey look my album is cohesive!” even though the only reason why it’s cohesive is because it’s cohesively shit. that’s not the case with sober II (melodrama), which functions as a response to the first sober. the parent song’s repeated calls of “can you feel it?” are immediately countered in sober II’s first line: “you asked if i was feeling it, i’m psycho high”. that’s cool because it reinforces the house party concept of the album. however, while i think the strings and trap drums combo sounds cool on paper, this production choice is the album’s first misstep because it sounds like jack put together 2 apple loops on garageband that didn’t quite fit.

luckily, before lorde turns into one of the migos, we’re treated with another piano song - writer in the dark. a word about lorde’s vocal performance in this song: WOW!!!!!!!!!! 😃😃😃 good stuff! in the verses, her raspy, imperfect voice highlights the intimacy and personal nature of the lyrics. in the chorus, she double tracks her voice and sings with a more round tone, which gives the eerie effect of sounding a bit like kate bush. it’s ok. i’m a bush man too. jack does a little production trick in the outro where ella sings the hook progressively louder as he fades out her vocal and lets the song be overtaken by strings. while it’s cool, i feel like he quite obviously snagged it from the outro of david bowie’s “heroes”, where a similar trick was achieved by the production god brian eno. jack then did it again on the song slow disco by st. vincent later in the year. side note: i’m still kinda pissed about what he did to st. vincent’s masseduction. more on that another time.

the next song, which should’ve been a single, features the metaphor of a supercut. i’m not sure how i feel about that because, on one hand, the term feels very millennial, like a better-written version of katy perry’s save as draft. you know what i mean? like those songs that aged fast - crazy in love with its pager reference, and payphone with its..... payphone reference. on the other hand, a supercut is pretty timeless, as montages have been used in cinema since the french first figured out how to make moving pictures. and the word sounds cool, so it’s ok i guess. but that’s beside the point. the song’s really nice, with some very interesting moments. one notable instance is lorde’s phrasing and the instrumentation in the prechorus - “in your car, the radio on”. the instrumentation just stops for a beat after ella sings the line, in a genius move that makes the song Even More Boppable!!. another moment is how the beat changes during the final choruses - from mellow, with her voice sounding like it’s coming out of a cassette player, to full, regaining all the instrumentation of the original choruses. then the song ends with a weird echoey vocal outro that’s a fantastic moment for me, especially after the intensity of the final choruses. boner time!!!!! 😃 one last cool thing about the song is that i feel the line “so I fall into continents and cars” is an Excessively paul simon thing to say. it’s one of those abstract things that just sounds GREAT, like “fat charlie the archangel sloped into the room” from his song crazy love, part II.

speaking of part twos, the end of supercut transitions into the bassy, atmospheric synths of liability (reprise). unfortunately, i still haven’t gotten round to fully appreciating this song. to me, it’s the biggest misstep on melodrama. don’t get me wrong - it’s a nice enough song, it’s really chill, but it feels slight because of its association to the majestic, melodic liability. apart from their lyrics, there’s not much that links the two. i feel that liability needed no reprise; it’s a work that stands on its own. i felt the same way about yandhi when kanye west announced it. yeezus doesn’t need another album associated to it! it’s perfection by itself. also, someone pointed out that the drums on liability (reprise) are the same as those on taylor swift’s call it what you want, and the last time taylor and jack screwed up a great indie artist’s work was fast slow disco, which we don’t talk about in this house.

finally, we come to the end of lorde’s house party with perfect places. and what a brilliant ending it is. there’s something so stirring about the drum beat, with its crunchy, decisive snare. there’s something equally moving about the synths and chord progression in the chorus, which give me chills like loud organs echoing in a church. when put together, they sound industrial, menacing, as if they move into your soul and alienate you from your own body. but at the same time, they’re an emotional release, a source of comfort like bruce springsteen’s cathartic 70s and 80s albums. another cathartic element - the use of the word “fuck” in the chorus. i could write a whole essay on it tbh. to me, it represents an intensely freeing release of the bad vibes and negativity in one’s life - for lorde, perhaps, her failed relationship and the state of the world in 2016. you know how studies have shown that when you shout “FUCK!!!!😡😡” after hitting your toe on furniture, it helps ease the pain? it’s like that. so while saying something taboo on the record is such an edgy angsty teenage thing to do, but also reflects lorde’s release from her pain. or maybe i’m reading too much into it.

the album ends as it begins, with ella’s bare vocals, reminding us that she is once again the Queen of Indie Pop. overall, melodrama gets a

9/10

for being really cool. peace out bitches. 🤠

#lorde #melodrama #review #music #music review #album #album review

[dabiapologist]

[My Hero Academia Fanfiction]: come find me in the dark

Sequel to Warmth

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Shigadabi, Shigaraki Tomura/Dabi

Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, but also comedy, shigaraki really fucking hates the cold, Dabi isn't gonna let him live it down, 0-60 angst, Dabi has a song stuck in his head, reference to the “Dabi is a Todoroki” Theory, brief implications and mentions of child abuse

Summary:  It’s astounding how a person’s sense of self-preservation can make them seem like someone totally different in the moment.

The last thing Dabi expected to hear was an audible sigh of relief, and he swears he heard a tiny ‘thank you’ creep out from between those chapped, scarred lips. He catches himself before he comments on it, though. It must've taken a lot for the mophead to swallow his pride and come down here again after all the mocking, so he lets it slide for now.

It’s ammunition he’ll store for another day.

Read on || AO3

Read Warmth on || AO3

Tomura stirs at the smell of smoke drifting into his nose and the low rumble of humming from beneath him. The TV is on in the background, but the volume is too low for him to make out what is being said. His eyes flutter open for a moment before pinching shut at the light that immediately hits his eyes.

“...Ugh…” He groans as he rolls over onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable again. He doesn’t remember it ever being this warm in his room.But this is nice, he thinks as he settles onto his stomach and buries his face back into the dark fabric of his bedspread.

...Wait.

His bedspread isn’t dark. And it sure as fuck isn’t this solid, either.

Tomura lies there for a moment, fingers prodding the unknown surface beneath him, mind riddled with sleepy confusion and trying to understand how the hell his sheets went from off-white to a dingy black, and, more importantly, from medium plush to rock hard.

That is, until a new, albeit tired sounding voice floats into his ear from right next to him.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Dabi drawls through a cloud of cigarette smoke, “D’ya have a nice sleep?”

While it was previously noted that Tomura is not always rational when his personal comfort is at stake, let it also be noted that it takes Tomura a good five minutes or so before really coming online when he wakes up.

And for those five minutes, Shigaraki Tomura is a stone-cold disaster.

He lifts his head slowly, still trying to register in his sleep-fogged mind just what the hell this ashy black and purple blob that is talking to him is, and why he’s lying on it instead of his bed. But once he blinks said blob into focus, it only takes about a fraction of a second for the chain-reaction to begin.

The bar is suddenly alive with noise; specifically death threats and several strings of impressively strung together insults and curse words, all courtesy of their resident leader in villainy and gamer enthusiast.

“What the actual fucking fuck- ”

“I’m gonna take all these hands, and shove them so far up your fucking ass-”

“I’m gonna slit open all those fucking staples and wear you like a mothershitting jacket-”

Luckily for Tomura, there isn’t currently anyone in the bar to witness his rather undignified fall from grace.

Except for Dabi, of course.

Throughout it all, Dabi just sits, calmly smoking his cigarette and half-listening as Tomura runs his insult well dry and right into a drought. It’s more funny than anything, mostly because through all of it, Tomura hasn’t actually moved from where he is curled up against Dabi’s side, and his yelling tantrum sort of spiraled into him sleepily muttering his strings of expletives as he buries his face back into Dabi’s chest.

When he does finally go silent, a good ten minutes later, Dabi finally sees his chance to speak. “Oi, mophead, as precious as watching you drool on me for twelve hours straight has been, I really need to fuckin’ pee.”

It takes a minute for his words to process, but once he starts jabbing his finger into Tomura’s ribs, the smaller man finally shifts. Like a switch flicking on, Tomura jolts and flings himself to the other side of the small couch, wild-eyed and limbs akimbo. Dabi stares back, exhaling the last of his cigarette.

“...What the fuck.” Is Tomura’s first truly coherent sentence of the morning.

“Yeah, I was wondering that for the first four hours, too.” Dabi replies.

“Okay, but actually, what the f-”

“Pause,” Dabi holds his hand up to silence him as he stands up from the couch, smacking his leg to wake it up, “I’ve had to pee the whole fucking night. You can have your meltdown after I do that.”

Without another word, Dabi leaves the room, dragging his still sleeping leg and complaining, and without another word, Tomura stares at his retreating back, still trying to comprehend what the hell is going in this bar.

It’s hard to focus while he’s still trying to shake the sleepiness from his mind and limbs, but the only thing he is really sure of at the moment is that there is a draft in here, and it’s awful.

“I’m pretty sure I have an ulcer on my ass.” Is the first thing Dabi says when he comes back a few minutes later.

“You don’t get ulcers that quickly, idiot.” Tomura quips groggily as he turns to him from watching the news, face wrinkled in disgust. “But that wouldn’t surprise me. I’m pretty sure there’s a new form of flesh-eating bacteria festering on this shitty old couch.”

Dabi plops down in the exact same spot, chuckling. “And yet you’re still sitting on it, dickhead. For the record, it’s because you wouldn’t let me get up or even move since yesterday.”

“Yesterday ?” Tomura repeats.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been sleeping here since fucking yesterday ?”

“Mmhmm. Well, technically,” Dabi turns to him, “We’ve been sleeping here since yesterday. Since, you know, I was also here. Hungry, and needing to pee. And not being able to.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up?!”

“Yeah, I tried that,” Dabi grimaces. “A couple of times...” He trails off as he brings his hand to his shirt collar and tugs it down. His collarbone is littered with scratches and teeth marks. Tomura flushes. Today just keeps getting better and better.

“I did that?”

“Yeah, man. You’re even more of a savage in your sleep.” Dabi mutters as he sets his shirt right again, “What, did you just escape from the fucking woods? Sure seems like it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Tch, and to think I had spent the day sleeping so I could stay out on patrol all night. And instead I stayed up the whole night watching old ass movies on TV while you bit and slobbered all over me. They played the Mask three times in a row.”

Tomura wipes off some crusted spit on the side of his mouth disdainfully. “The fuck is that?”

“I dunno, some American movie, I guess. I didn’t really know what was going on, but I sat through it three fucking times because there was nothing else on, and now I have Cuban Pete playing in a loop in my head. So thanks.”

Tomura stands up and walks over to the bar, snatching up the morning paper from the end of the bar. “Pfft. Whatever.”

But Dabi doesn’t let him escape that easily.

The edges of the paper start to disintegrate when Tomura crushes them in his grip. Instead of staying over on his gross couch, or better yet, leaving, Dabi comes over and slides into the seat next to him, hooded eyes twinkling with amusement.

It was foolish of Tomura to hope that Dabi would let it go just like that. He really should’ve known better.

“So… are you planning on actually telling me? Or are you going to act like it didn’t happen?”

The paper rips. “Tell you what ?”

“Why you were sleeping on me?”

Tomura tries to focus on the article --the part that isn’t dust yet-- that he’s reading, but he can feel Dabi’s eyes on him, probing. He pointedly stares at his newspaper, hoping that if he stays silent long enough, Dabi will eventually give up and fuck off.

But after five minutes of uncomfortable silence and even more uncomfortable staring, Tomura starts to think this might be futile.

“I’m still waiting.”

“You’re gonna be waiting fucking forever. Now get away from me.”

Goddammit. He never would’ve pegged Dabi as someone who was persistent, let alone annoyingly so; and yet here he is, now nearly ten minutes later, still trying to read his stupid paper while Dabi stares at him with his chin resting in his palm, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. They both know that Tomura’s nerves are wearing thin.

“Did you know that you purr in your sleep sometimes?”

More of the paper turns to dust.

“I never thought I’d say this, creep, but you sure have your cute moments. You kept making these little noises when you’d move, and when I wanted to get up, you’d like, paw at me. So precious.”

That paper never stood a fucking chance. And it only gets worse when Dabi lets the topic drop in favor of something even worse.

“They call me Cuban Pete, I’m the king of the rumba beat, ” Dabi hums the rest, adding too many ‘ chic-chic-ky-boom ’s in as he shakes his fists like he’s holding maracas.

Tomura has never wished for telekinetic powers more than he has right now; he’s been glaring at a bottle of scotch on one of the shelves, willing it to fly across the bar and hit Dabi right in his stupid, smug, chic-chic-ky-boom-ing face.

“I don’t know what it means, but it’s really catchy.”

“.....”

“Chic-chic-ky-boom, chic-chic-ky-boom ,”

“Shut up! Fuck.”

“Then answer my question.”

The bell above the door suddenly chimes, signalling a new arrival at the bar. Toga flounces in, grinning and tap-tap-tapping at her phone at the speed of light, singing some annoying pop song that Tomura is sure he would hate if he were actually listening to the words.

Her smile explodes when she finally looks up and notices the two of them sitting at the bar.

“Tomura-kun, you’re finally awake!” She says as she throws herself onto him in a big hug. “You were sleeping for so long! Like an evil, angry sleeping beauty!”

Dabi snorts. Tomura’s hand twitches.

“I need a fucking drink.” He mutters to himself. The fact that he hasn’t eaten anything yet makes no nevermind to him. The faster he can get drunk, the better.

He nudges the girl off of him and slides out of his stool. He grabs a bottle off the shelf, not really caring what it is as long as it’s alcohol, and brings it back with him to his designated spot.

“He really bit you?! Oh wow!” Toga suddenly chirps, catching his attention; more accurately, it makes him want to murder everyone in the bar. It feels a lot like that day the old man brought these two along and they all almost killed each other.

Right now, Tomura is regretting letting them live.

“That’s kinda kinky,” She says, giggling as she ogles at the welts and scabbed over teeth marks that trail up and down Dabi’s neck and collar.  

Dabi smirks. “Yeah, crazy right? He almost ripped one of my staples out. The guy’s an animal.”

“Shut... the fuck... up.”

“Why were you sleeping with Dabi, Tomura-kun?” Toga asks. She and Dabi are wearing identical smiles; one that makes Tomura feel like he’s being cornered. Whatever. It’s their funeral. Once he finishes this bottle.

“Yeah, mophead. Answer the girl.”

“Do you two want to die today?”

Toga pouts. “But you were so cute, Tomura-kun! Like a sleepy little kitty! And Dabi was cute, too!” She says, tugging on Dabi’s shirt, “He didn’t wanna wake you up even though you were drooling on him.”

If it wasn’t holding his precious liquor, the bottle would’ve met the same fate as the newspaper.

“I fucking drooled?!”

Dabi nods. “Yeah buddy, you were running like a backwater creek. I never would’ve guessed that you had that much moisture in your body at one time.”

Tomura wishes he wasn’t immune to his quirk. Death would be better than this.

“Oh my god…” He mutters.

“Ah, Shigaraki Tomura, you’re finally awake.” Kurogiri says as he enters the bar. His shapeless countenance shifts upward at the edges, into a misty smile.

Understandably, Tomura does not return the gesture. “Great, you’re here now.” He snaps. Kurogiri looks taken aback at the outburst, but only for a second, used to Tomura’s moods swings.

“Yes, great.” Dabi parrots, eyes flashing. “Yo vapeman, maybe you can answer us. Why was mophead over here draped on top of me like fucking Cleopatra when he has a perfectly good bedroom upstairs?”

“It’s Blackmist, and because he was cold.” Kurogiri, in a poorly timed moment of not paying attention to his young master’s mood or the mood of the room, answers without thinking. He’s stocking a shelf, so he doesn’t see the acidic look Tomura throws at him.

“Kurogiri…” Tomura growls, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his gaze quickly turns to the two next to him. Dabi and Toga are both staring at him, their mouths making little ‘o’s, though Dabi’s is quickly turning into a full-on smile.

Toga squeaks in demented delight. “Oh! I get it!~” She sing-songs, shaking Dabi’s arm roughly, “Because Dabi is always warm ‘cause he shoots fire!”

“You were cold? N’aww...” Dabi teases, a hand to his chest in mock tenderness. “Sorry, have you never heard of a little thing called a sweater? Or a blanket?”

“I’m wearing a sweater right now, you pit stain.”

But the insult goes unheard as Dabi snaps his fingers. “Oh, but wait. That pile of clothing on the floor must be yours then, huh?”

“.....”

“You were so eager to snuggle up with me-”

Tomura abruptly stands, tossing the gritty, tattered remains of his newspaper on the counter with a low growl.

“Fuck this. I’m leaving.” He grunts. They hear him stomp up the stairs; the sound fades away steadily and then all of a sudden gets louder again when Tomura comes back and, without a single word, grabs his forgotten liquor bottle off the counter and storms off again. The three of them watch him go wordlessly, until the distant slam of a door is heard.

No one says anything for a beat, not until Dabi pulls out his cigarettes and realizes he’s down to two sticks. Seems about right, since he spent the entirety of the night smoking to distract himself from how bad he had to go to the bathroom.

“Shit.” He curses with a sigh. “Hey, brat.”

Toga looks up at him, still clinging to his arm. “Yeah?”

Dabi pops the last cigarettes out onto the counter and hands her the empty box. “You’re better at blending in than I am. Go steal me a pack of cigarettes.”

Toga considers it for a second before shrugging. “‘Kay.”

“Get those, but the ones that say 100’s. I like those better.”

“Okie dokie~!”

“Don’t let anyone see you, Himiko!” Kurogiri calls after her as she exits.

Dabi stares at the door as it swings shut, lighting up one of the cigarettes and taking a deep inhale. “I probably should’ve told her to get us food, too.” He says as afterthought, “I’m fuckin’ starving. Eh, whatever.”

“Were you two the only ones here?” Kurogiri asks as he continues stocking the empty shelves.

“Uh-hunh.”

“Where is everyone else?”

Dabi shrugs. “No clue.”

“I see.”

They sit in silence after that, Dabi smoking and watching the news while Kurogiri goes around the bar performing his usual morning routine, including picking up the bundle of sweaters and overshirts Tomura had unceremoniously dumped on the floor the night before.

“When I play the maracas I go chic-chic-ky-boom, chic-chic-ky-boom. Yes sir, I'm Cuban Pe- ”

“...I beg your pardon, Dabi?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just this stupid song I have stuck in my head.” Dabi replies, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Heh, so our little mophead hates the cold, huh? I guess that’s not surprising. He’s sort of tiny under all that black. He’s so light I barely even noticed him.”

He recalls one show he saw on TV once a long time ago, some nature show about reptiles. “It’s kinda like when snakes get cold, like how they look for the warmest thing to raise their body temperature back up. Mophead’s kinda like that.”

Kurogiri chuckles, nodding in agreement. “That’s an accurate analogy, though I hope it wasn’t too much of an imposition. He doesn’t sleep well in the winter time, for obvious reasons.”

Dabi laughs. “It’s fine. I know I was teasing him a lot, but I just like ruffling his feathers. To be honest I didn’t really mind all that much. I actually... I liked seeing that side of him. Makes him seem less like a complete psycho and more like a real human.”

It is then that something from the night before comes back to him. Something that had been sitting like a thorn in the back of his mind since then. “Actually... say, blackmist… can I ask you something… kinda personal?”

Kurogiri looks up at that. “Personal?”

Dabi hesitates for a second, taking a slow, contemplative drag on his cigarette, choosing his words carefully. “Did you know that mophead… that he cries in his sleep?”

Kurogiri goes still for a moment, foggy yellow eyes widening as he looks over at Dabi. “... He does?”

Dabi nods, exhaling thoughtfully. “Yeah.” He looks up from the counter. “This morning when I tried to wake him up... I think he was having a nightmare.”

Dabi turns in the stool, facing Kurogiri. “He wasn’t sobbing or anything, but his eyes and cheeks were wet. He kept saying that he was sorry. And...” He pauses to look up the dark stairway. “He said, ‘please don’t hit me’.”

At that, Kurogiri stops. “I…” He stumbles over his words, before trailing off, at a loss. Dabi notices his discomfort, wondering if maybe he should’ve kept it to himself after all.

“I won’t pry,” He says with an indifferent shrug, “But, ya know...” He pauses for a beat, a wry smile forming on his lips. “...It kinda hit close to home.”

Kurogiri’s eyes sink, as if to furrow with the weight of that casual admittance. “...I see.”

“That’s part of the reason I left him alone. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up after hearing that. It sort of freaked me out. But also, I get the sense that if he knew I heard him say that, he might really try to kill me.”

Kurogiri chuckles, despite himself. “That would be a fair assumption.”

The two share a laugh at that as Kurogiri resumes tidying up the bar.

“I do hope you’ll keep that information to yourself, Dabi.” Kurogiri says after a long silence.

“Naturally,” Dabi says. “I have no reason to tell anyone that.”

Dabi pulls over an ashtray and taps some long forgotten ash off the end of his cigarette. By then, most of it is already on the counter-top. “People are at their most honest when they’re angry, but who you really are shows most when you’re asleep, I think. And for all that talk and all that rage, he’s just a scared kid who never really got to grow up.”

Kurogiri nods somberly at that, but the soft ‘I can relate’ that follows cuts him deep. After all is said and done, he’s glad that Tomura accepted Dabi, and Toga, and everyone, into his organization. It’d just been the two of them before, and Kurogiri is glad that his young charge finally has others around that can relate to him on his level. Even if they tease him to the point of homicide.

“And he is cute when he’s asleep. Toga hit it right on the head. He is like a little cat. Fluffy and irritable.” Dabi rubs at his collar. “...Just wish he didn’t bite the shit out of me, though. I mean, it didn't hurt or anything, but still.”

“I apologize for that.” Kurogiri says. “But try not to tease him too much.”

Dabi quickly swipes the ash off with his hand when Kurogiri’s back is turned. “I make no promises, vapeman.”

“Blackmist. ”

*******

He hadn’t intended to stay at the bar that night, but in the end, Dabi decided he didn’t really feel like going back to his rundown hovel of an apartment which was on the other, even shadier side of town, but he didn’t feel like joining Twice and Mr. Compress out on patrol, either. He liked his crappy couch here better than the glorified army cot he called a bed, anyway. Besides, he rather liked the ambiance of the bar after hours.The dim, burlesque lighting settled him down, and Kurogiri didn’t mind if he left the TV on, for which Dabi was grateful. The white noise in the background and the pale light from the screen helped him fall asleep.  

He pillows his arm behind his head and shifts onto his side, curling into the worn but soft cushions of the couch. Some time passes as he stares at the inside of his eyelids, his mind slowly emptying itself of the day’s events and his ever-racing thoughts. He’s almost completely drifted off when a sudden presence makes itself known right above him.

“Oi,” grunts the familiar voice.

Dabi’s eyes flutter back open. He can just make out Tomura’s light hair and scowling face staring back down at him, but it’s not hard to see that he’s at least twice his size from all the layers he’s got on. And it certainly doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he’s here.

Dabi can’t help but grin up at him. “Cold again?”

Tomura looks ready to spit nails down at him, and for a second, Dabi is certain he’s going to get a tongue lashing for all the teasing earlier. But then Tomura’s jaw snaps shut, and with a huff, the younger man slowly nods in affirmation.

“...yeah.” He mutters, clearly ashamed of himself.

In the silence of the room, almost fading in with the soft laugh track playing from the sitcom in the background, Dabi can hear Tomura shuddering and his teeth chattering.

Well, Dabi thinks, it is snowing outside tonight. He supposes that that is something normal people, as in, people that don’t have a fire-emitting type quirk, would notice. To him, it’s just another night. But to Tomura, who he can see is trembling even under a million layers, it’s a fucking nightmare.

Dabi rolls his eyes with a sigh, but still turns over and lies flat on his back. “Come on, then.”

It’s astounding how a person’s sense of self-preservation can make them seem like someone totally different in the moment.

The last thing Dabi expected to hear was an audible sigh of relief, and he swears he heard a tiny ‘thank you’ creep out from between those chapped, scarred lips. He catches himself before he comments on it, though. It must've taken a lot for the mophead to swallow his pride and come down here again after all the mocking, so he lets it slide for now.

It’s ammunition he’ll store for another day.

It takes a few minutes and a few ‘accidents’ (“You just kneed me right in the balls.” “You deserved it.”) before they properly settle on the cramped couch, but once Tomura finds his place splayed out against Dabi’s side like before, Dabi can’t help but notice that this is way more comfortable than he’d ever be willing to admit out loud. He can feel Tomura’s shivering body gradually beginning to relax against him, milking the warmth provided by his quirk.

Creepy lunatics like Tomura shouldn’t be this cute, but here he is. Being cute as hell. It’s not fair.

“Um, ‘kay. Goodnight, I guess.” Dabi says, not taking it to heart when he doesn’t get a response. And for a few minutes, the room is quiet. Awkwardly quiet, but quiet nonetheless.

Tomura’s gone still, and his breathing has evened out a bit, so Dabi assumes he’s asleep already. His own eyes drift shut again, and he sighs the last bit of tension out of his body. Dabi is almost out when,

“I heard you, you know.”

Dabi’s eyes snap right back open. Fucking hell.

Dabi tries to look down at him, but all he gets is a face-full of light blue hair. “Heard what?”

“You talking with Kurogiri earlier. I heard you.”

The conversation replays over in Dabi’s mind, particularly the part about Tomura crying in his sleep, and Dabi goes rigid. The subject of Tomura’s past and Father, the hand affixed to his face normally, are the one taboo subject among the league of villains, the one thing that makes Tomura see red faster than anything else.

Dabi swallows thickly. Well, he’s lived an alright life, he supposes.

“Listen, I-”

“...was I really crying?”

Dabi tenses. But it’s not out of fear. It’s from flat out shock.

He never thought he could hear someone sound so meek, least of all someone like Shigaraki Tomura. And yet here they are, lying together on a cruddy old couch in dark bar on a random Tuesday, and Tomura sounding like he’s on the verge of tears again.

He has no idea how to handle this. Tomura is nothing if not unpredictable on his best days, and they all learned early on that this particular subject is a veritable minefield.

Shit.

“Yeah, you were.” He breathes out reluctantly after a moment. May as well be honest.

He can feel Tomura begin to tense next to him, and his hand starting to clench into a fist, bunching up Dabi’s shirt.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that!”

Dabi strokes at the now trembling hand, carefully but firmly coaxing the lethal digits out of the tightly balled fist Tomura had made. When they’re all laid out flat on his stomach again, thumb up, he breathes a sigh of relief.

“What are you gonna do if you accidentally kill your new heater?”Dabi jokes, trying to lighten the mood again. But Tomura is dead silent, and to be honest Dabi feels a little unnerved by it. It’s safe to say he has stepped on the landmine.

“Hey-”

Tomura shuffles awkwardly against him, leaning further into his neck.

“... sorry .”

And just like that, the weight of that single word, of that tiny, childlike utterance, nearly crushes the air out of his lungs. It’s the most pathetic, heartbreaking thing Dabi has ever heard in his life. For the first time ever, truly, he is at a complete loss for words.

His hand moves on its own before he can even process what’s he doing, or the very real consequences it might incur for him later. This might get him killed, but he just can’t help himself. He leans down, brushing Tomura’s messy bangs aside, and, his life expectancy be damned, he places a soft kiss on the damp skin underneath, followed by another. And another.

There is a small gasp of surprise, but for once, it’s not followed by a snappy insult or a death threat. To his surprise, Tomura’s head tilts up a bit, and Dabi takes it as silent approval of his sudden show of affection.

“You’re not the only one who had a shitty dad.” He whispers, carding through the soft curls, finding himself enjoying the feeling. Tomura is really fluffy. And this might be pushing it, but he spreads his fingers out, moving his hand in small, serene circles. He’s never had to comfort someone before, and he hopes this is how it goes. The feeling is somewhat alien to him, but it’s not really unpleasant, either.

Tomura relaxes after a beat, laughing quietly at that. Dabi feels like he should say something to fill the sudden quiet that follows, but nothing really comes to mind. So in the end, he decides to just let it be.

They fall into a semi-comfortable silence for a long while after that; so long that Dabi is sure that Tomura has finally fallen asleep. His hand drops to the bony waist, cracking his knuckles out of habit, and lets out a silent yawn.

He decides to have a quick cigarette before he falls asleep, half-watching an infomercial for some garbage product that Dabi can’t imagine anyone ever actually using.

“They call me Cuban Pete, I’m the king of the rumba beat,” He starts whisper-singing mindlessly, “when I play the maracas I go chic-chic-ky-boom, chic-chic-ky- uugff!”

“Don’t you dare start with that bullshit.” Tomura rasps, one bleary eye cracked open and glaring.

“Fucking hell,” Dabi mutters, rubbing his now sore ribs, “This is what I get for being nice.”

Tomura reaches for his hand and places it back on his head. “Keep doing what you were doing before. I like it.”

Dabi smokes the rest of his cigarette, fingers making tiny soothing circles on Tomura's scalp and occasionally curling the light locks around his fingers, wondering how it was that someone's hair could be so fucking soft. They fall asleep like that, with Dabi’s fingers tangled in Tomura’s hair, and Tomura curled against him like a lifeline.

********

“So, is this gonna be like a regular thing with these two?” Spinner whispers to Twice the next morning.

“Eh, just leave ‘em alone, man! No big deal!” Twice replies animatedly, waving it off. “But yeah, we should probably wake them up, right?”

“Well, how about that, ladies and gentlemen?” Mr. Compress quips, a quarter dancing over his knuckles idly. “Call me crazy, but I think we’re seeing a new act beginning.”

“...if you three fuckers don’t want to be burned alive, I suggest you leave. Now.” Dabi’s quiet, albeit groggy voice suddenly cuts into the chatter like a knife. “Mophead’s a grouchy riser.”

“...You know he’s drooling on you, right?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

#shigadabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #BNHA fic #fanfiction meme #comments/kudos on ao3 greatly appreciated! <3

[dyingrabbit]

Negated Universe Misadventures - Chapter Three

Humor/Dark

Subjective narrator (Homura Akemi)

Word count: 4554

“Fuck” count: 32

Proof of Concept: Part Two (Attempt #27)

Of paramount importance, probably, was ensuring my cohorts that I wasn't as frightening as my previous display may have suggested. Yeah, I 'd gone from zero to psychopathic demi-god over a very short span of time, but what needed to define me were my words and not my actions. That was likely too idealistic to execute properly with my limited time frame and resources. I was well aware of that, but let's get down to brass tacks here.

I had a notebook.

At the risk of contributing to society's broken record on the subject of technology, I'll assert once more that the most eminently exploitable feature of modern day communication is the ability to proofread one's sentiments prior transmission. That's not a tool you have when speaking face to face, generally speaking.

Of course, it would trigger a sociological collapse of some magnitude if we did away with the tactile immediacy of authentic human interaction. The hippies would go nuclear on us if we could all decide that we'd rather be texting the people in front of us. Which is why it's probably best that I'm the only one who gets to do that.

The psychologists could go ahead and name a neurological disorder after me for all I care. They could add me to the next edition of the Merck and I wouldn't bat an eye. Because if I wanted to forsake my humanity and stop time to carefully consider my next words then God damn it that's what I was gonna do.

So that's what I did. I looked present company dead in the eye and gave my shield a half turn, halting the current of time. It was out of necessity really. I had the potential to seriously flub this persuasion check if I wasn't on the ball, and for the record, I was not on the ball. The ball was gone. I'd lost it. Not to worry though. I had plenty of time to find it.

They say that American natives were known for using every bit of each buffalo they hunted, whereas the European settlers were prone to leaving everything but the hide. It disgusted the natives, for it was of the highest dishonor to the sacred animal to take its life and let so much of its body go to waste. I was no native. I wasn't really big on any sort of new age philosophy either. But what I saw before me was a fresh buffalo kill, and I intended to use every last hunk of it to my advantage.

That is to say, I realized I had an opportunity to closely scrutinize my companions' body language whilst planning my statement. They all bore a variety of brazenly confused visages for starters, but I didn't need a looking glass to tell me that.

Sayaka, in particular, had a very stern look on her face which read as somewhere between "This bitch is gettin on my nerves." And "Imma fuck this bitch up." I also noticed she was clutching her club, which rested on her shoulder, very tightly, as though she was preparing to act on the latter sentiment. Suffice to say, soothing Sayaka's concerns currently had top priority.

Moving on to Mami, I could see that her mild yellow eyes held no apparent animosity towards me, just genuine confusion. As plain as it gets, Mami was looking for answers. Because beyond the main thrust of what had just occurred she was simply befuddled by the preceding episode. I also noticed, with audible relief, that she had her finger off the trigger of her terminal rifle. Mami just needed the situation explained. That was easy enough.

Lastly, I observed that Madoka wasn't actually looking at me. I mean, she was looking at me but she wasn't focused on me. She was spacing out, as though deep in thought. Or, more likely, she was remembering something. It was quite probable that she was recalling the dream she'd had about me and was now formulating a more comprehensive image of me as a person. It was far and away a more accurate representation than anything she'd been working with before, but it wouldn't do for her to have such a spot on idea of who I was just yet. Out of everyone here, I still needed her trust if I was to convince her not to become a magical girl, so I needed to ground myself with this statement as well.

Tallying the score, I reckoned I needed to be conciliatory, explanatory, and down to earth when explaining that, yes, It was in fact I who blew Charlotte to fucking oblivion. I sat down with my notebook and started drafting a proper response.

When I was finished, it came out something like this:

"Oh, gee. You mean the big fiery explosions? Yeah, I guess I got super duper excited and wanted to show off a little, but I might have overdone it. Silly me!"

I finished by chortling and lightly rapping my knuckles against my skull, executing some form of self punishment.

All in all, it didn't play quite as well as I'd hoped. Actually, if we're being honest here, it didn't fucking play. They just kept staring at me like I'd made a joke about murdering their parents.

"Yeah... Okay." Said Sayaka as she loosened her grip on the club slightly.

Mami gave her musket a little twirl and deposited it in her boot where it seemed to disappear. She then transformed back to normal, turned to leave, and said "Alright. Gotcha."

Madoka looked at me and laughed nervously.

"That's okay, Akemi-san. I tend to overdo things all the time. Heh heh."

God damn it. Why was it so fucking difficult to regulate my deep character flaws without coming across as completely bonkers? I'm not even the crazy one. These bitches should see Sayaka when she gets upset. That's what a real basket case looks like.

In any event, I'd seemed to inadvertently create the moment which would define my relationship with these girls for the duration of the time loop, but at least they weren't dead this time. We all resolved to call it a day.

The next section of the timeline was relatively uncharted territory. Mami didn't often make it this far. It also signaled the beginning of a real crisis I needed to deal with. Mami wasn't dead, and I hadn't done a single fucking thing to make becoming a magical girl seem even remotely disadvantageous. These girls were primed to contract, and there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it. It was a like a game of hearts in which I'd suddenly realized I couldn't get rid of the queen of spades. The only way to pull this back was to shoot the moon.

Sayaka would contract. Couldn't do shit about that. She had both the aptitude and the drive. Having something to wish for in her back pocket helped too. Madoka was still very much on the fence about it. She wasn't built for this line of work. But eventually she was slated to come around to the idea. Especially with all this positive energy floating around. The next big events set to occur regarded Kyouko's arrival, Sayaka's contract, and possibly the discovery of the true nature of the soul gems.

Here was catch-22 part 2. If the group were to discover the truth, that our bodies were now just husks which were controlled by our soul gems, then Sayaka would just fucking lose it. That's how it always happens. Very rarely does she ever recover from that. At the same time, it serves as a beautiful deterrent for Madoka. With Mami still alive, the next biggest thing to stop Madoka from contracting was her best friend going suicidally nuclear. However, this was still a numbers game. I could hardly afford to lose Sayaka before the fight with Walpurgisnacht, if previous iterations held true, and thus, I needed a backup strat.

I had one. It was ridiculous but I did have one.

It was Kyouko, essentially. It was everything about Kyouko that was worth detesting.

My plan was to highlight for Madoka the cutthroat nature of the business, as well as the inescapable ennui of the endless battle with the witches. The reality being that she'd likely be living grief seed to grief seed, always on the hunt, always on the brink.

That was the sales pitch.

That was literally all I had in the way of halting the contract, short of sending Sayaka into a chaotic death spiral, or over facilitating Mami's ego to yield fatal decapitation. Kyouko was the name of the game. The biggest problem was that she wasn't even supposed to show up while Mami was still alive.

Mitakihara City is Mami's beat. Kyouko just subs when she dies. Mass action dictates that the void be filled quickly, and so it is. The trouble now is that Kyouko had no incentive to drop in. So I had to go and make one for her.

This worked out rather nicely, as it was becoming clear that my diplomatic efforts hadn't been received as well as I might have hoped. My scripted remarks hadn't worked, frankly. The gang seemed to be actively distancing themselves from me and opting to go witch hunting alone. That sucked a bit, but it was fine for now. We were in a lull where relatively little happened, and I had bigger fish to fry.

How does one earn Kyouko's favor? Perhaps that was a bit too ambitious. Instead, how does one get Kyouko to do you a favor? Was that the same thing? Etymologically speaking, yeah probably, but connotatively those were fucking pretty different. I needed to either threaten her with violence—say, the desecration of her family's burial site—or offer a reward in return for assisting me.

Now, modern psychology asserts that positive reinforcement yields more favorable results than punishment, so bribing her looked like a pretty attractive option. However, in the words of the illusive bastard, Al Capone, you can get much further with a kind word and a gun than with a kind word alone. Perhaps Teddy Roosevelt put it more eloquently with "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Either way, this episode of Sesame Street was clearly brought to us by the number ".50" and the letter "I'm not leaving my fucking Deagle at home for this one."

She was holed up in some derelict radio tower a mile from nowhere. She sat alone, devouring the remains of a convenience store rice ball before tossing the wrapping aside amongst numerous other nondescript empty packages. It was late evening, so her face was illuminated mostly by the dim red glow of the soul gem she idly fiddled with.

In a way, I felt for her. Yellow, blue, and pink were all bright colors. Mami and the others had no trouble using their soul gems as flashlights. But the longer your wavelengths get, the less energy per photon and all that shit. Suffice to say, Kyouko and I got fucking shafted when it came to extra utilities. I know it's not a Swiss army knife, but I think I'm justifiably upset that my soul is only barely bright enough to read by.

"How'd you find me?" Kyouko started in a convincingly menacing tone. "Who might you care to explain your—fuck." She muttered after fumbling her inquiry.

I got a bit excited, but my experience kept me level headed. Kyouko had merely hung a pawn, that was nothing to get ecstatic over.

"Kyubey told me where I might find you." I said coolly. It was a lie. Truth be told, this tower was something of a de facto domicile for the poor little street urchin. I'd met her here a few times before.

She huffed, clearly buying it, as it wasn't totally unreasonable.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Homura Akemi. You can call me whatever you want."

Kyouko rubbed her chin as she sized me up.

"You're a magical girl too, right? What do you want?"

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work. My work consisted of pulling several boxes of pocky out of my shield, one at a time, and stacking them on the floor in front of her. I had many flavors, a keen observer might note.

To her credit, Kyouko looked on without a trace of bemusement, as though she'd seen this song and dance before. I was fairly certain she hadn't, because I wrote this song and choreographed this dance. The pocky routine was an original.

It took me a long ass time. I'd initially thought I could pack a box full of these packages and stuff the whole box into my storage unit, but it didn't even work theoretically. The dimensions were stubbornly unworkable. Even if I'd managed to shove it in, there was no way in hell it would come back out. So I resigned to carrying them in singles. Whatever. Here we were.

When I was finished, I knelt beside the appreciable array of biscuit sticks and said "I'd like a favor Sakura-san."

Kyouko looked at me, then at the pocky, then back at me.

"Are you fucking joking?"

"I've brought you dozens of boxes of frosted biscuit sticks in assorted flavors." I said, undeterred. "Who doesn't appreciate numerous biscuit sticks in assorted flavors?"

"No fucking shit. Why did you fucking do that?"

"As I said, I need a favor."

"And what would that be?" Kyouko demanded, exasperated.

I bit my lip in hesitation. I actually didn't have the most cogent job description prepared as of yet.

In essence, I wanted Kyouko to be like one of those recovering drug addicts, or alcoholics, or those dumb fucks who kill people while texting and driving, who then are made to give presentations to school children on why their behavior was bad. It was like community service but it was spiritually degrading, and in this case, entirely voluntary.

Actually that summed it up pretty well, so that's what I went with.

Imagine a look of wide eyed wonder, except it's actually disgust. That's what Kyouko was bearing when I finished my spiel.

I admired her restraint. At this stage "Are you fucking nuts?" Is practically obligatory, yet jaded and redundant. Instead she just said "No."

Alright. Diplomacy had broken down. It was time for a tactical push in the form of a veiled threat. Really, honestly, that's what the situation called for, and I knew that very well. That's why I'm confused as to how it escalated to me aiming my Deagle at her chest with one hand, holding multiple boxes of pocky out the window with the other, and shouting "I swear to fucking God, I will drop these fucking biscuit sticks if you don't do what I say!"

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" Kyouko blasted, having already transformed. "I'll just fucking grab the boxes later! I don't care!" She held her spear like she was ready to throw it at my throat. It was just posturing. She knew as well as I that I held the high ground.

"Is that so?" I asked slyly. "Say, you ever shoot clay pigeons, Sakura-san?" I said this as I produced three green tea flavored pocky sticks from the package I held.

She looked on despairingly as I threw them in a haphazard arc, or thereabouts, and swung my shooting arm over to dispatch them all.

I'll admit I used a freebee on that one. It wasn't so much a demonstration of skill as it was a vulgar display of power. The effect left little to be desired. Kyouko actually shrieked when the airborne pockys burst into infinitesimal singed crumbs.

"Don't you fucking dare do that again, bitch!" She said, her voice quivering. "I'll fucking kill you if I ever see you wasting food again!"

I smiled coldly.

"Be my guest. I've got plenty of assorted flavors here. We can day this all do—fuck."

In the end, my overly aggressive midgame allowed for an unfortunately prolonged endgame. Which I won, for the record, but it was far too involved for my tastes. A lot of old scars brought into the daylight. A lot of soul baring I could have done without. But I had Kyouko now.

Upon my return to Mitakihara proper, I was greeted with the actualization of what was, at this point, a fairly resolute inevitability. Sayaka had contracted with Kyubey and was now traipsing through the city with Mami dispelling familiars at every turn. She'd also done the liberty of saving Hitomi's ass while she was at it.

Here's the thing about Sayaka.

Her big crush, Kyousuke, used to be a violinist before he fucked up his wrist. Now he can't play, and he's naturally a bit butthurt over it. Sayaka shares this sentiment. Her main plan of action is to bring Kyousuke CD's of various accomplished violin artists so they can listen together through a shared set of earbuds. Not bad. But at a certain point, Kyosuke starts acting like a bitch and accuses her of torturing him by forcing him to listen to shit he'll likely never perform again.

The implication that some entity out there gets their kicks by savoring the tears of young crippled musicians after they've forced them to listen to examples of their former specialties is unquestionably very rich. However, Sayaka sees the indictment as valid, and decides to grant the kid's wrist back with her wish. Honestly, I'm glad that works out for her, but I don't like the position it puts Madoka in.

Thankfully, Madoka had not succumbed quite yet. The beautiful thing about her is that she very rarely contracts unless there is a clear and present danger which cannot be averted in any other way. That's because, by default, she doesn't have anything worth risking her life to wish for. That was all well and good, but it wasn't the biggest thing I had on my plate.

Introducing Kyouko was logistically awkward. There wasn't any instance where it really made sense to suddenly add a member to the party. Oh well. The details could be ironed out later. This was just a proof of concept run anyway.

These girls seemed to like meeting on bridges. Specifically pedestrian overpasses. I couldn't figure why, but that's where we stood. Kyouko's red hair fluttered in the breeze as she leaned against the handrail. She seemed more interested in the half eaten taiyaki in her hand than in her audience as she spoke.

Her audience consisted of Mami, Madoka, Sayaka, and Kyubey. I stood by in attendance. I was sort of the emcee for this little get together as well.

"This contract thing may sound like all that. It certainly did to me, anyways." She started slowly. "You get a wish. Anything in the whole wide world if you asked for it, and damn it, I did."

I had to give her credit. She'd ostensibly had no time to prepare for this little speech but this was proving to be a fucking masterful lead-in.

She took a bite out of her taiyaki and chewed thoughtfully for several seconds.

"It ended up costing me my entire family. Worst part is there's nobody to blame but me." Fucking hell, that was heavy. Surgically precise in tone. This was going beautifully.

"I thought it was a decent wish at the time. I was stupid... So stupid." She popped the rest of the taiyaki into her mouth and swallowed it remarkably fast. "You know what I've got to show for it? Nothin'. No house, no parents, no fuckin' cable television. Just a rusty radio tower, a weird rabbit thing to keep me company, and an endless horde of witches to hunt just to stay alive." She busted open a box of strawberry pocky and jammed a couple into her mouth. "I could be here telling you how you should never, ever, waste your wishes on someone else, a lesson I know from experience, but today this bitch wanted me to tell you not to contract at all." She said, gesturing at me with a pocky stick. "Probably better advice anyway."

I had to stop myself from gaily applauding at the fantastic presentation. I wished the other viewers had the same problem, but the reactions were a bit mixed.

Forget how principally convoluted it is to introduce a new friend to your old ones. That's a thing in itself. In addition, this sure as hell wasn't a new friend, and these gals would be hesitant to call me an old one. Replace this 'new friend' with a 'guest speaker' you've invited for an unsolicited seminar. Everyone is familiar with the subject matter, but the stance you have this speaker take makes you out to be a massive hypocrite, and is an about-face with regards to your previous behavior.

The word is clunky.

If I was a writer, I would not have written the story this way. If I was real life, I would not play out in this fashion. On several occasions, I've made attempts to convey to my fellow transients that I am a time traveler and know what comes to pass in the near future. Hardly ever do they accept that claim on it's face, and that's reasonable to expect. What people need is proof. I can provide circumstantial evidence, like stopping time, or predicting a future event. That sometimes works, but it isn't definitive proof.

What I'd provided with this impromptu magical girl symposium was a determinately contrived situation. I'd confidently assert that anyone missing the signs that I wasn't operating on the same plane of reality clearly couldn't see the forest for the fucking objective lenses strapped to their faces.

Kyouko slowly chewed on her pocky while ostentatiously gazing over her shoulder to view the setting sun in the west.

She and Mami sort of knew each other, through various run ins and/or word of mouth. They didn't really like each other, the opposite scenario being an atrociously high energy configuration, so Mami didn't take kindly to the whole display, and remained tight lipped.

Madoka had questions, and had patiently waited for the Q&A segment to ask them.

"Sakura-san, is it?" She asked politely, receiving only a glance in reply. "What is it you wished for?" Not just an audacious advance in general, but a supremely audacious one when considering the parties involved.

"Jeez..." Kyouko muttered under her breath. "I made a wish for someone close to me. When he found out, he called me a witch, went crazy, and then killed himself." Storytelling at its most elegant.

"I just wanted you to know," Madoka said with Polaris sized stars in her eyes, "That I don't think it was your fault. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened."

Kyouko's tone became stern and bitter.

"Listen here, miss pigtails, you don't know a damn thing about it. Never use a wish on somebody else. You'll only make things worse than they were. Better yet, don't make a wish at all. A softie like you wouldn't last a week."

This prompted some mild sabre rattling from Sayaka.

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about it, bitch? I oughta teach you a fuckin' lesson about caring for others!" All in attendance, Sayaka included, mused that the threat could have been worded more effectively.

"What did you wish for, huh?" Kyouko retorted cooly. "Probably something silly. You didn't wish for love, did you?"

Mami quite accurately assessed that the situation was rapidly approaching flash point and that swift intervention was required. Before another word could be uttered, she quickly tied Sayaka up with her yellow ribbon and said "We'll be leaving now." before dragging her away. Madoka meekly followed behind. Kyubey stared intently in my direction for a good deal of time before sauntering off to god knows where.

The Sayaka thing was probably gonna be a problem. If I wasn't careful it could actually be a critical issue. I internally shrugged. I'd probably bought myself a week.

Kazamino city was Mitakihara's neighbor. Kyouko grew up there, and it was where her family was buried. She and I happened to find ourselves there, in a graveyard, to pay respects I suppose. Her old house had burned down. At first there were some allegations regarding arson and thus murder, but the case had been promptly dropped as evidence was sparse and no one was left who cared to know.

Her father hadn't been a bad man. Not by a long shot. At the end, though, he was really bad. Really quite unforgivably bad.

There wasn't anything special about the gravestones. They were engraved with names and dates but nothing more. One of these cycles I swore I was gonna come here and etch something like "This deadbeat killed his wife and daughter and then himself because he was a bitch. Seriously, fuck this guy." Not only would that take an exorbitant amount of time, but Kyouko was here too, so that wasn't gonna happen today.

For her part, I don't think she knew what she was doing here. She stood there with her hands in her pockets, a lollipop in her mouth, and a disinterested look on her face. She was here for no other reason, it seemed, than that this is what people did. I hoped it was cathartic in some way, but it didn't fucking look like it was.

"I'm a time traveler." I said as the rain began to pick up.

"No shit." Kyouko replied, her clarity of speech somewhat obstructed by the lollipop. "Anyone with half a brain can see you use time manipulation magic. And what with all this hooey you're going on about, you're either a kook or you've been to the future."

"That's very sound reasoning." I said with no small amount of respect.

"Listen. I don't wanna hear about any of it." She said as she pulled up her hood. "I did my bit here. I'll help you take out that Walpurgisnacht thing, but then I'm done. Got it?"

She walked off without waiting for an answer. Kyouko Sakura was quite possibly the most jaded individual I knew of. And I was me.

Just as well, I suppose.

TO BE CONTINUED

#puella magi madoka magica #fanfic #writing #my writing #long post #merit #homura akemi #madoka kamane #mami tomoe #kyouko sakura #sayaka miki #kyubey #pmmm #pmmm spoilers #spoilers #dark humor #swearing #funny #violence #subjective narrator

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #113 - Groundhog Day

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: DVD

1) This film is a holiday classic associated with one of the less popular American holidays out there. Hell, this film probably made Feb. 2nd an even bigger deal than it was before.

2) The first thing we experience as an audience member of George Fenton’s quirky score over the opening credits. Fenton’s music I think is one of the more underrated aspects of the film as there is a lot of range to this particular score. There is the quirky comedy music, the kinda faster actiony stuff, but my favorite part is the romantic score featured in this film. You should give the soundtrack a listen if you have the opportunity, it’s pretty damn good.

3) Bill Murray as Phil Connors.

Director Harold Ramis, who frequently collaborated with Murray (mostly notably in the two Ghostbusters films) originally wanted Tom Hanks to play Phil but thought he was, “too nice,” and hired Murray instead. That’s great for us as the audience, because the role is one of Murray’s best. He is able to believably take us through this journey of character, playing the lovable but jerky Phil in the beginning with just as much believability as the guy who’s actually trying to do some good at the end. Murray’s improv is on full display with the film and that helps with the reality of his character.

Unfortunately, this would be the last film Murray and Ramis would collaborate on. An ongoing debate between whether the film should be more dramatic (Murray’s stance) or comedic (Ramis’ stance) was a contributing factor. As well as this, according to IMDb:

Bill Murray was undergoing a divorce at the time of filming and was obsessing about the film. He would ring Harold Ramis constantly, often in the early hours of the morning. Ramis eventually sent writer Danny Rubin to sit with Murray and iron out all his anxieties, one of the reasons why Murray stopped speaking to Ramis for several years.

I don’t know if they ironed out their issues before Ramis’ untimely death in 2014, but I hope so.

4) Chris Elliott as Larry.

This is probably Elliott’s most famous role, which is saying something considering he’s mostly the comedic camera man who’s tired of Phil’s bull. But Elliott’s performance makes it funny and memorable, delivering some of the best lines in the films (more on that later).

5) Andie Macdowell as Rita.

Rita is actually a character who is surprisingly well developed but in a lot of little ways, and I’ll elaborate more on that as I go. MacDowell is wonderful in the part, making Rita a positive upbeat person but believably so instead of just a “life force” character. She plays Rita (and it is written) with some flaws too which helps make her interesting, but again more on that later. Her biggest asset is probably that she can hold her own with Bill Murray in a scene. You can tell (or at least I can guess) in certain scenes that Murray is improvising and that MacDowell is sharp on her toes with a comeback. It makes their relationship a believable one. Especially considering there is a line later how Phil fell for Rita as soon as he saw her. You can sort of see that when you look for it. It’s small, but it’s there. A testament to both actors.

6) Although this film takes place in Punxsutawney, PA it was actually filmed in Woodstock, IL. I was there back in fall of 2015 and the town square where they filmed most of it is pretty much still the same. They even have a black on the corner where Bill Murray stepped into the really bad puddle. It was pretty cool. (Only this time however did I realize one of the signs style reads “Woodstock Jewelers”.)

7) Remember how I said Larry has some great lines/observations?

Phil [after Rita says she booked him a nice hotel]: “You know I think this is one of the traits of a really good producer: keep the talent happy.”

...

Larry [to Rita, after Phil has left]: “Did he just call himself the talent?”

8) “I Got You Babe”, the Sonny & Cher song that plays every morning when Phil wakes up, was the song that was in the very first draft of the script and carried through until the end. The song probably became more popular (or at least, popular for a longer time) BECAUSE of its use in this film.

9) Ned! Ryerson!

Like a lot of characters in this film, Ned Ryerson could have just been a throw away and forgettable little gag. This guy who supposedly knows Phil from high school and is an insurance agent now. But actor Stephen Tobolowsky totally MAKES this role. There’s nothing insincere about Ned. He doesn’t feel like a leech, he feels like an overly enthusiastic and genuine guy who’s absolutely hysterical. Tobolowsky plays Ned over the top in the tradition of Abbott & Costello and it works wonderfully!

Also Ned has the best lines.

Ned: “Am I right or am I right or am I right? Right? Right right right right!”

Ned: “Watch out for that first step there, it’s a DOOZEY!”

These lines on there own are not necessarily interesting but Tobolowsky just gives them such life it is a treat to watch.

10) This film has so many great lines.

Police Officer [when Phil is out in the street in a blizzard, trying to get to Pittsburg]: “Now you can go back to Punxsutawney, or you can freeze to death.”

[Phil takes a minute to stand in the snow. He looks back at Punxsutawney and then at the road ahead.]

Phil: “I’m thinking.”

11) There is never an explanation given as to why Phil is relieving Groundhog Day over and over again. I think in one draft of the script it was a spell cast by a jilted lover, but in the final film and for most drafts there’s no explanation. I think that’s the reason the film works so well. It’s not some Harry Potter fantasy. It’s just a comedy/drama with one fantasy element.

12) It’s fun rewatching this film again because you get to realize that characters who just have a throw away line earlier in the film end up being like Phil’s piano teacher or the drunks he meets a few Groundhog Days later.

13) I love that when Phil asks Rita for a good hard slap across the face she doesn’t hesitate and he’s not pissed about it. They’ve got each other. ;)

14) This line.

15) I like that Phil always goes to Rita for help with his Groundhog Day problem. She has no experience with this! There’s no reason for him to go to her with his problems other than he trusts her and respects her.

16) Hey look, it’s director Harold Ramis!

17)

Phil [to two drunks]: “What would you do if you were stuck in one place and nothing you did mattered?”

Drunk: “That about sums it up for me.”

18)

Phil [after one of the drunks decides not to drive and stumbles]: “You wanna throw up here or you wanna throw up in the car?”

Drunk: “I think...both.”

19)

Phil [while driving towards a train on train tracks]: “I’m betting he’s gonna swerve first.”

20) When Phil realizes his actions don’t have consequences the film gets fun real fast.

21) I find it a little pretentious that Rita’s reaction to this:

Is to quote a Sir Walter Scott poem at him which says he’s egotistical. Like, really? You’ve got this whole poem memorized JUST to call people egotistical? I mean I like it from a writing standpoint, it makes her kind of flawed, but also she comes off as pretentious. Not that she’s wrong, it’s just she’s very in your face with it.

22) The original plan for this film is that we as the audience would not see the start of the loop, instead just picking up on an “average” day and wondering how Phil knew the things he did. Harold Ramis promised he wouldn’t change this to the screenwriter but ended up changing it anyway (I think with the screenwriter’s blessing, but maybe not). I think this works better. It allows us to invest in Phil as a character more.

23) Phil’s attempts to seduce Rita - I think - start out with him trying to genuinely get to know her. He asks her about her life and only then goes down the route of, “Who’s your perfect guy?” I think he does have real feelings for her he just doesn’t know how to handle them in a healthy way so he uses this time loop to his advantage.

24) It’s interesting to see the repeated attempts of Phil trying to win over Rita, with each mistake done over until it’s not a mistake. You can tell that each time is a little less sincere, and the times when they connect the most are typically when he’s being honest with her and just letting things happen.

25) Another flaw of Rita’s:

Rita: “What should we drink to?”

Phil: “To the groundhog!”

Rita: “I always drink to world peace.”

THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU ASK HIM WHAT YOU SHOULD DRINK TO!?!? I like it, it fleshes out her character, but it’s an annoying thing to find in a real person (and I know men and women who act like this).

26) I have so many questions.

Rita [on her ???? date with Phil]: “Do you ever have deja vu?”

Phil: “Did you just ask me that?”

This is the only time we EVER have another character show a hint of someone being aware of something is going on. WHY RITA!?!? WHY NOW!?!? WHAT IS HAPPENING!?!?!?

27) The best example of what I was talking about in note 24 is the snowball fight Phil & Rita have with the kids. Phil didn’t know that was going to happen, he didn’t know what Rita was going to say, that’s the first time he ever got that far. And he’s being honest with her! It’s such a nice scene between the two of them. And then when he tries to recreate it the next Groundhog Day it feels super awkward, incredibly forced, and wildly uncomfortable.

28) I think this is such an incredibly important concept.

Phil [after Rita says he’ll never love anything because he only loves himself]: “That’s not true! I don’t even LIKE myself!”

Keeping this in mind as Phil begins his downward spiral tells you A LOT about his character. And it’s that downward spiral that pushes this film from fun comedy to great movie.

29) And you thought this would be a light hearted comedy!

Phil: “I’ll give you a winter prediction. It’s gonna be cold. It’s gonna be gray. And it’s gonna last you the rest of your life.”

30) At one point Phil throws his radio on the ground and the speaker/song is still going.

According to IMDb: 

The scene where Phil picks up the alarm clock and slams it onto the floor didn't go as planned. Bill Murray slammed down the clock but it barely broke, so the crew bashed it with a hammer to give it the really smashed look. The clock actually continued playing the song like in the movie.

31) The entire scene with the car chase and the quarry, where Phil kidnaps the groundhog and attempts suicide (which is a more entertaining scene than it sounds), is very well done. It shows just how desperate Phil is to end this nightmare. And it also gave us some pretty great lines.

Larry [after Phil drives into the quarry and the car crashes]: “He might be okay. (Car explodes) Well no, probably not now.”

32) The montage of Phil’s attempts at suicide is good for two reason: it gets across where he is at this point in the film, and it’s short. If it were too long this scene would get too depressing too fast.

33) I love this fucking scene.

Phil has relieved the same day over and over again for what has probably been years and he’s so damn tired he just wants to talk to someone about it. So what does he do? He goes to Rita. He tries to convince Rita and succeeds wonderfully. This scene is a prime example of this film’s beating heart, of why it’s a great feel good movie. Phil knows everybody! He knows all their stories, their names, everything about them, because he’s been living the same day over and over again. It’s wonderful. Even without trying it all just sinks in. And guess what? He knows Rita the best.

Phil: “You like boats but not the ocean. You go to a lake in the summer with your family up in the mountains. There's a long wooden dock and a boathouse with boards missing from the roof, and a place you used to crawl underneath to be alone. You're a sucker for French poetry and rhinestones. You're very generous. You're kind to strangers and children, and when you stand in the snow you look like an angel.”

THIS is why I love this film! This emotion! This heart! And there is a beautiful piece of score on the soundtrack called, “You Like Boats But Not The Ocean,” which sums those feelings up perfectly in music and I love that too! Everything about this just makes me feel good! Also how strange and insightful a little detail about Rita like, “you like boats but not the ocean,” is! 

34) And so begins the good Phil tour. The amazing final act of the film where Rita has convinced Phil that he can maybe do some good with this “curse” of his and which carries the same wonderful emotion that was present in the diner scene where Phil convinces Rita he’s serious.

35) Bill Murray improvised this:

Phil [after Ned comes up to meet him and he hugs Ned]: “I don’t know where you’re going but can you call in sick?”

36) But even as Phil works to helps people’s life, he can’t save everyone.

This old homeless man is someone who Phil passes everyday and, when he starts acting kind, gives a ton of money to everyday. Towards the end of the film Phil meets the man and takes him to the hospital where he dies. So the next day Phil tries to save him. He takes him to a restaurant, gives him a big meal, and the man still dies. The man dies everyday. And that scene is heartbreaking and adds such weight to the film and I love how sad it makes me every single time.

I wish I were this kind, but honestly I’m scared to be. I’m scared to be taken advantage of but there are people out there who need help and hopefully I’ll be better about giving it in the future.

37) If you pay attention to the people in the background at the hospital you’ll see this kid:

Remember that kid. You only notice him when you’ve watched the film ten times (that’s not a hyperbole either), but remember him.

38) The final Groundhog Day is a wonderful thing to behold. It starts with us hearing the end of Phil’s report on the groundhog.

Phil: “When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. Put standing here amongst the people of Punxsutawney, and basking in the warmth of their hearts and hearths, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter. From Punxsutawney, it’s Phil Connors. So long.”

And EVERYONE is paying attention to it, hell rival news networks are recording it! It’s THAT moving!

39) Do you remember the kid?

Continuity! (Boom)

40) The final party is a great scene too. It’s the culmination of probably Phil’s best Groundhog Day yet. He helped as many people as he could and even plays for their pleasure at the party. It is his least selfish and the only time in the film we ever see the party, even though it was happening every single night. And also Rita spends $300+ to win Phil in a bachelor auction when the highest bid before that was $60.

41) Kneel before Zod!

42) I love this.

Phil [after ice sculpting Rita]: “I know your face so well I could’ve done it with my eyes closed.”

43) And then tomorrow finally happens.

A great end to a great film.

Groundhog Day is just amazing. It has a heartwarming story, a feel good vibe, an intriguing concept, and a wonderful cast. It is just so good for so many different reasons and if you haven’t seen it yet you should. Right now.

#Groundhog Day #Bill Murray #Andie Macdowell #Harold Ramis #Chris Elliott #Epic Movie (Re)Watch #Movie #Film #GIF

[shazzbaa]

So I Saw Doctor Strange

EDIT: I just found this all typed up in my drafts from the day after I saw Doctor Strange several months ago. it’s very ramble-y and not very edited but uh,,,, im just gonna publish it, HERE, HAVE A, VERY COOLED OFF HOT TAKE?????

It was O-Kay. I’m typing up my thoughts because I can’t sleep, and also because this movie is my actual exact trope (please see figure A: my entire webcomic) and yet, while I had a nice time watching it, I kept kinda drifting out of the movie to question the choices it made.

I should also mention, I never read the comics and I never watched any cartoons with Strange in them, so I don’t really care about accuracy in that regard. All I know is that I read his origin story off wikipedia and said “man I hope this movie is good because this could really be my jam.”

ENTIRELY COMPOSED OF SPOILERS:

THINGS I LOVED:

I loved that the hospital kept coming back!! I expected it to just be his origin story and then disappear, like the theatre that scared baby batman, but every time something bad happens to him or his allies he uses his weird new magic to teleport STRAIGHT TO THE HOSPITAL, because OBVIOUSLY that’s where you go when you get hurt!! It’s what he understands and he’s comfortable in that environment and I can’t get over how happy I am with the idea that this ridiculous sorcerer keeps coming back to the ER when he gets really hurt. Also I love the juxtaposition of Dr. Strange’s frankly absurd getup (aka: my aesthetic) striding through An Actual Hospital as if he remotely belongs there. This is 100% my favourite thing about this movie.

I loved that Strange’s hands never get fixed!! He doesn’t GET MAGIC TO FIX THEM, he gets magic to give him a new purpose so that he can finally get over his inability to do surgery. This is infinitely better tbh, both in a non-ableist message sense AND in a “Shazz is happy because he still keeps this one weakness at the end and that’s the kind of thing she likes in stories” sense.

I liked the dimension-altering spell that turns all buildings into a Terrifying Conveyor Belt Of Machinery. Especially in that very first scene, it looks cool and feels like actual magic, something barely fathomable, bending the world to your will.

She kisses him on the cheek!!!!!! I’m 90% more heartwarmed by this choice -- their relationship is so strained at this point that a lips-kiss would feel forced, or inappropriate,  like, Obligatory Superhero Kisses Girl Scene, but instead it’s just a moment of, “this is all still a mess but I genuinely care about you.”

Also while we’re on the subject of non-sensual physical touch, I love that the Ancient One holds his hand!!! More deep, meaningful platonic touch in movies please!!!!!!!

I like a lot of the little goofy banter -- “oh, you joined a cult,” and Strange whining about how nobody will name anything after him because his name is Strange. But I’m a sucker for this stuff (see: my entire webcomic).

THINGS IM REALLY MAD ABOUT:

okay but how do you take FREAKIN MAGIC and turn it into SWORDFIGHTING??? who looks at all of psionics and goes “hey lets all play soulknifes.” Seriously tho, there’s like two cool spells and everything else is the exact same choreography you’d expect if they were using staves or fisticuffs and that’s JUST A DANG SHAME!!!! WHERE IS YOUR IMAGINATION MARVEL

I’m not asking for all the spells to be wacky I’m just askin for it to look different from just wackin swords together and blocking them!!! THATS THE MOST BORING THING YOU COULD POSSIBLY DO WITH MAGIC!!!!

that early scene where Strange’s consciousness is getting slingshotted around while the Ancient One schools him about how much he doesn’t understand is unbelievably boring, and this is coming from someone whose biggest turn-on is slightly frail boys being terrified. Why does that scene go on so long??? He hasn’t even earned that experience and it doesn’t even look that cool.

I JUST REALISED THIS IS PROBABLY ENTIRELY COMPOSED WITH THE 3D VERSION IN MIND AND NOW IM EVEN MADDER

THINGS THAT WERE ALLLLMOST COOL BUT I FEEL ULTIMATELY UNSATISFIED:

What the heck is going on with Doctor Strange’s character arc

There’s the weird feeling throughout that Strange learns nothing and is not actually different. Like, I’m sure this isn’t exactly true, but I’m having a hard time countering that idea. He starts out an arrogant person who trusts his own judgement above anyone else’s, and then ends a slightly more polite arrogant person who trusts his own judgement above anyone else’s.

I’m gonna compare Strange to Tony Stark, because I liked Iron Man, and it felt triumphant in a way that Doctor Strange didn’t, and Tony Stark also remains arrogant throughout, but here’s the thing -- Stark’s sin in Iron Man wasn’t hubris, it’s thoughtlessness, both socially and globally. “Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart” and so on. So when Stark remains arrogant, but his beliefs are shaken and he wants to reach out to help & defend others, we don’t feel like he’s gone nowhere. Meanwhile Strange’s sin IS presented as hubris -- he didn’t believe anyone could do what he could do, and his ego is what’s constantly chided by the Ancient One. And then he continues being exactly this way, doing whatever he wants because he doesn’t trust others to guide or help him, and saves the day?? It’s just weird because it seems like maybe they didn’t actually understand what they were setting up?

I think it’s a good choice that he doesn’t quite master magic throughout the course of the movie -- that fits. He’s not the Sorcerer Supreme at the end because “it’s not about you.” But it’s a timid choice, because how do you make a story where the theme is “it’s not about you” and still have the main character single-handedly save the day? You’d have to be a lot more creative than this movie was.

Strange handing the scalpel to Nick is a nice moment but it doesn’t count as paying off this arc/theme/whatever. Strange literally can’t use the scalpel and remembers that the girl he likes trusts Nick, so Nick is the best they’ve got. Strange is a smart guy who’s afraid to fail, he’s gonna make the choice that’s most likely to succeed. We already know he’ll ask for help if he has literally no other option. That’s not a payoff!

There’s a REALLY COOL thing that’s brought up halfway through where Strange freaks out that he killed a guy. He starts yelling about how he’s a doctor who swore to do no harm and I got really excited -- this is an actual redeeming character trait, a chance for Strange to Care about people in contrast to his flippant attitude at the beginning and put his brilliance to work not serving himself, but others -- and the fact that it put him in conflict with his more ruthless fellow sorcerers was also interesting. AND THEN THAT’S IT, THATS THE ENTIRETY OF THAT ISSUE, BASICALLY JUST THAT SCENE.

Like, yeah, at the end he did find a creative way to strike a deal instead (THO HE ARGUABLY DID A LOT OF HARM TO THOSE GUYS THAT GOT SUCKED INTO HELL THE DARK DIMENSION, HMM) but that sort of got lost in this OTHER theme about rule-breaking versus rigidity that got pulled in at the end.

Ultimately it feels like they had three different themes going simultaneously -- Dr. Strange has a huge ego and needs to let go of it, Dr. Strange, as a doctor, questions the sorcerers’ ruthlessness, Dr. Strange is willing to break rules that the other sorcerers aren’t. And it’s only that last one that really feels like a major theme of the movie at the end.... but it’s not really set up that way at the beginning????

//SIGHS A LOT ABOUT THE THING AT THE END OF THE MOVIE

the part where they’re Too Late and Strange turns back time so that they won’t be is cool. I’m not gonna knock that. BUT HEY THAT WAS SET UP ALREADY AND WASN’T AN ASSPULL

uggghghghghghghg like.... this is, I don’t know, it’s a genuinely smart move, and it feels like it works, but it also has that feeling of “oh, I guess this is possible then,” because it wasn’t really set up well. THATS NOT WHAT YOU WANT FOR THE CLIMACTIC END OF YOUR MOVIE!!!

Look, there’s the bones of something good here. Strange messes up by trying to do a cool thing and throwing everyone into the mirror dimension, and actually exclaims “this was a mistake” (which I expected to be a way bigger deal???) -- and then at the end he does the exact same friggin thing by jumping into a dimension with a plan that seems like it’ll make sense. So what if he learned from his mistake instead? What if he realised he’d need help understanding dimensions, and we saw him asking questions and getting guidance and finally being willing to trust that maybe someone else knows more than he can teach himself? In that moment, we could learn a little bit more about bringing different magic to different dimensions. And at the end, what if it wasn’t a split second decision by Strange to do a risky proceedure (aka, the thing he already did at the start of the movie) but instead, Strange has the idea to carry time into the dark dimension and checks his idea with the others? You could even bring the violence angle in here, if the others had some other option that would be less magically risky but involve more death, and Strange chooses the one where nobody has to die, and maybe even asks them to trust his decision -- something he never felt the need to do before. Instead of the ENTIRE TIME ISSUE feeling like kinda an asspull because it’s all a surprise, it’s the Time Loop Bargain that’s a surprise, while everything else has been firmly established.

I don’t know if this would work or be the best choice. But like!!! these are things that feel like they could’ve been worked with a little more to make the whole movie feel more cohesive!!! instead of having one theme, and then dropping it and picking up a different theme, and then kinda fumbling that into another theme, and not being sure where to put any exposition or character development.

I really like that Strange is kinda.... not physically amazing. Like, he’s been taught how to fight, but it’s clear he’s leaning a lot on his cloak for the fancier stuff and he’d still definitely get beat up without help. This is obviously like.. my character type, but wouldn’t it be cool if he were just a smiiiiiiidge older?? Like, a little frailer, can’t really fight that well without magical help? NO? JUST ME?????????

okay I think that’s everything. thats my opinion of dr strange

#im not puttin it in the tag b/c dont tag ur hate kids #even tho honestly i enjoyed this movie #LIKE #IM GONNA WATCH THE SEQUEL STILL PROBABLY #Shazz has opinions again #text post

[junker-town]

NFL Dad, Week 10: Too much poop for one Sunday

One dad, two toddlers, and seven hours of RedZone: How much football can you watch when the kids keep pooping?

I’m late to RedZone by half an hour today because we took the kids to a birthday party. As kids’ birthday parties go, this was a very good one: champagne for the adults, a bagel platter with excellent lox, and probably some stuff for the kids to do, I don’t know. I was eating bagels.

As we were walking home, thousands of families with young kids spilled out of the Barclay Center, clogging the sidewalk and slowing our progress home. It was the result of my omnipresent nemesis: Disney princesses, this time in ice skating form. Luckily, my daughter didn’t pick up any context clues from the schlock peddlers selling Cinderellas JUST janky and off-brand enough to not get sued into oblivion.

My son started to nod off in the stroller, and my wife and I started shaking him like he was a character in a Freddy movie. EYES OPEN, BROCHACHO. We learned our lesson about that last week: Stroller mini-naps lead to no nap at all, and we ain’t about that life.

When we get home, I take my son into our bedroom to change his wet diaper. He immediately rolls onto his stomach, because (A) that makes it impossible to put a fresh diaper on him and (B) he is only truly happy when he’s making my life more difficult.

My wife enters. “I got this,” she says. “Go do your job.” She is a saint.

I go into our living room and turn on the TV. My daughter is wearing my swim goggles for some reason. A minute later, my son enters the room. He is naked from the waist down. I don’t approve of my kids Porky Piggin’ around the house, but my wife said she had it. She has her reasons, I’m sure. I bite my tongue.

There are three small and pungent turds on the floor.

I go back into our room to grab my warm-up pants, and I hear my wife gasp so loudly that I fear one of the kids is injured. I re-enter the living room and there are three small and pungent turds on the floor. My wife is somehow uncertain about the culprit: “If that was ...”

WOMAN! The dog hasn’t pooped on the floor in a decade, and the only other suspect has shit on his naked thighs. I pick up the turd nearest me with a baby wipe and put it in the diaper pail; my wife handles the rest.

A couple minutes later, my son comes over to the couch — still pantsless — and urinates on my computer bag. I look at my wife.

Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, let the record show that my wife wanted my son to “air out” following several hours in a wet diaper. “I didn’t expect him to poop,” she says, which seems obvious enough. “And I didn’t put a diaper on him after he pooped because I figured, ‘What else could he do?’”

I say nothing. The secret to a good marriage — besides the dull work of continuous respect and communication — is laying off the slow hanging curveballs instead of crushing them into the third deck and moonwalking around the bases.

But yes, this was a helpful reminder that shit and piss are the main reasons I put diapers on babies. I respect all sides in this debate, however.

EARLY GAMES, FIRST HALF

— Here is how to beat the Jaguars: Don’t let their defense or special teams score. That’s it. Like, maybe try to keep Leonard Fournette from ripping off an 80-yard TD, but mostly: Make Blake Bortles throw passes. He sucks at that! You’re gonna win!

Anyhoo, the Jags score a 56-yard fake punt touchdown. They miss the PAT and are only up 6-0. Doesn’t matter: Chargers are gonna lose this game.

— Stefon Diggs hugs the goalpost after scoring:

Stefon Diggs with the Antonio Brown memorial leap to hug the goal post http://pic.twitter.com/GtZuPkBpYg

— CJ Fogler (@cjzero) November 12, 2017

“That’s gonna be a penalty. You can’t use the goalpost,” says the announcer. Let’s try to keep this in mind the next time we’re like, “The NFL allows fun celebrations now!” A player pretending he finished a Super Mario level results in the same amount of penalty yardage as trying to decapitate a guy with a helmet-to-helmet hit. What an asshole league.

— Josh McCown and Ryan Fitzpatrick, who have combined to play for almost every quarterback-starved franchise in the modern NFL, throw interceptions on consecutive plays. The video should be played on loop on a 96-inch Sony wrapped in a gold frame in the National Gallery of Art.

— Oh no, John Fox. Oh Grampy what is you doin’.

That’s Benny Cunningham diving for the end zone. Officials ruled him out at the 2-yard line. Fox challenged the ruling, claiming it was a touchdown. The replay shows Cunningham fumble the ball into the pylon, which is a turnover and a touchback.

I would LOVE to be sympathetic and try to justify the challenge, but Fox isn’t exactly the kind of coach who’s earned himself a long leash with savvy or even gutsy in-game decision-making. And the video does him no favors, either.

John Fox, when he realizes he just challenged his own team into a turnover http://pic.twitter.com/PiVybx8D0n

— Big Cat (@BarstoolBigCat) November 12, 2017

— Vontaze Burfict has been ejected for making contact with a ref. I guess those refs missed the MMQB’s soft-focus profile last week.

Vontaze Burfict—student of the game? Doting dad and husband? The Bengals linebacker would like you to know he’s not the guy he’s made out to be.

Here’s what to do with redemption profiles: Move them to the trash icon on your computer without ever pitching them.

— “Hey, DeShone Kizer doesn’t look like ass” was a thing I was typing when a Browns wide receiver was stripped, resulting in a defensive score for the Lions. After jumping out to a 10-0 lead, the Browns now trail 17-10. The Browns just always Browns so hard. It’s amazing how Brownsy they are.

— Rookie Austin Ekeler walks a tightrope down the right sideline to score a touchdown and put the Chargers up 7-6. I wrote that sentence like I’ve heard of Austin Ekeler before.

I watch around 400 prospects prior to each draft. I've never watched Austin Ekeler play football.

— Josh Norris (@JoshNorris) November 12, 2017

— Adam Thielen’s touchdown celebration is a game of leapfrog with his teammates:

Vikings play leapfrog FTW http://pic.twitter.com/D92aT1QpD7

— CJ Fogler (@cjzero) November 12, 2017

I remain agog that fans are impressed by these simplistic, unoriginal celebrations. While American chumps are oohing and ah-ing over hide-and-seek, the CFL is celebrating like IT’S the dominant football league in North America.

Here's the entire CFL limbo TD celebration (h/t @joshellman) http://pic.twitter.com/S952tA4rv3

— Vikings Blogger (@firstandskol) November 12, 2017

Now THAT is quality.

— Just when you think the Browns can’t Browns any harder: DeShone Kizer attempts a quarterback sneak on the 2-yard-line with 14 seconds left in the half and no timeouts. He’s tackled short of the goal line, and the clock runs out. The Browns go into the locker room with no points from a drive that ended a yard short of the goal line, down 17-10 despite outplaying the Lions for most the half.

SECOND HALF, EARLY GAMES

— The Colts’ Chester Rogers (???) catches a deep ball that goes for 62 yards and a score thanks to broken coverage and lousy tackling. The Colts lead the Steelers 17-3, and I would like for you to remember this the next time someone says, “The Steelers are the most complete team in the NFL right now.” Hogwash. I’ll take a team with a secondary and a consistent quarterback.

— Alvin Kamara scores a TD to put the Saints up 24-3 in Buffalo. That’s three touchdowns on the ground for New Orleans, and none thrown by Drew Brees. This is an affront to everything I’ve learned from the last 10 years of fantasy football.

— I take a nap and wake up to the Steelers tying the game with a 2-point conversion. Order has been restored to the world. It’s 17-all in the fourth quarter, and — barring a third 60-yard touchdown bomb from Jacoby Brissett -- the Steelers will put together another drive to salt this one away.

— My daughter wakes up from her nap, and there’s a poop situation that requires a bath. I’ll spare you the details, if only so I don’t have to relive them.

When my wife puts her in the bath, she is screaming and inconsolable. She won’t sit down, and any attempt to force her down just makes her shriek more loudly.

After a couple minutes of trying to calm her down, I strip down to my underwear and get in the bath with her. The water is lukewarm and only about two inches deep, and I try to ignore the couple flecks of stray poop in the bath. She stops crying, and I coax her to sit down. I read her a book about sea creatures, and my wife finishes the cleanup.

— With a minute left in Chicago, the Packers shank a short field goal that would have given them a ten-point lead. “Looks like this one might be exciting,” I almost think before remembering that we’re talking about the Bears, John Fox, and a rookie quarterback whose bar to become the greatest QB in franchise history is “Jay Cutler.”

Mitchell Trubisky’s bar to become the greatest QB in franchise history is “Jay Cutler.”

The Bears don’t even get to midfield before turning the ball over on downs.

— Remember when I said the Saints having three rushing touchdowns and no touchdown passes was an affront to fantasy? Make that SIX rushing TDs with zero through the air. This is patently unfair. Related: I do not have Mark Ingram or Alvin Kamara in any of my fantasy leagues.

— The Chargers are up 17-14 with less than 2 minutes left in Jacksonville. They can ice the game with a first down. This is what happens instead:

Austin Ekeler fumbles, the Jaguars recover the ball, and Tashaun Gipson returns it for a touchdown.

The touchdown is overturned (replay shows Gipson was down by contact on the recovery).

Marqise Lee takes a hard but clean hit in the end zone, and it appears a penalty may give the Jags the ball on the 1-yard line. Lee dances at the Chargers defenders, and gets flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct.

On the next play — 3rd and 25 — Blake Bortles makes a terrible decision and Tre Boston picks off his pass (Boston’s second pick of the quarter).

The Chargers run the ball three straight times to burn the Jags’ timeouts. Again, a first down would have ended the game. L.A. punts it back.

Joey Bosa is key in putting Jacksonville in field goal range, unnecessarily throwing Bortles to the ground after he’d thrown the ball. Josh Lambo — who the Chargers cut in the preseason to keep Younghoe Koo (RIP) — makes the game-tying field goal. This game is going to overtime.

Those two minutes of game time were some of the most watchable football I’ve seen all season. It was like someone reversed the polarity of the Texans-Seahawks shootout. “OK, let me just flick the COMPETENCE switch to OFF.” I love it.

LATE GAMES, FIRST HALF

— The afternoon slate is Cowboys-Falcons, Giants-Niners, Texans-Rams, and some leftover Chargers-Jags. Hey, smell this Chargers-Jags, has it gone bad? (You are hit with the scent of spoiled milk and used diapers.)

— Ed Hochuli is working Cowboys-Falcons, and wastes no time wasting our time with an overly lengthy explanation of a call. I agree with Drew Magary about taking away the refs’ mics. Let them work in silence while the PA announcer and TV crew explain the hand motions for the crowd and viewers at home.

— It’s weird the different stages kids can be at despite being similar sizes. My daughter, at age 3, is capable of having a conversation and expressing her feelings with words. My son, 18 months, understands everything we say, but is less a human than an organic chaos engine. The kid does forward-facing trust falls off of stairs.

— The Texans defense looks mean early — Jadeveon Clowney has been wreaking havoc, and Rams receivers can’t seem to get an inch after the catch. The Rams only have a 3-0 lead because of a Tom Savage fumble, which is also why the Texans have no chance to win this game unless the defense scores three touchdowns.

— OVERTIME UPDATE: After the Chargers got a defensive stop, Philip Rivers attempts to huck it long to Travis Benjamin, but the pass is picked off by A.J. Bouye, who nearly returns it for a touchdown, but is pushed out at the 2-yard line. The Jaguars are penalized for taunting, which pushes the ball back to the 17, which is a huge deal because Jacksonville’s long snapper is injured.

God, I love this game. It’s like watching raccoons accomplish human activities. “Their little paws are so dextrous! Incredible!”

With the Jags setting up for a game-winning kick, the Chargers get called for delay of game, and the extra five yards is enough for Lambo’s partially blocked kick to get through the uprights. Lambo, a former MLS goalkeeper, breaks out the soccer goal celebration:

Celebration of the NFL season. Josh Lambo getting his football on http://pic.twitter.com/PrmZ4ELq7y

— Chris Deeley (@ThatChris1209) November 12, 2017

— The Texans take the lead (whaaa???) 7-6 on a Bruce Ellington touchdown. Are you sitting down? I hope so, because Tom Savage just led an eight-play, 75-yard drive.

— The first interesting play of Giants-49ers is in: Marquise Goodwin hauls in a bomb from C.J. Beathard that gives the Niners a 10-6 lead.

CJ Beathard + @flashg88dwin... 83-YARD @49ERS TOUCHDOWN! #GoNiners http://pic.twitter.com/KgGj2cpNQn

— NFL (@NFL) November 12, 2017

Goodwin was clearly emotional at the end of the play, and it’s because he and his wife lost their baby boy early that morning due to complications during pregnancy. Just horrible, horrible news, and I am in awe of anyone who could muster the strength to stand up and leave the hospital after that.

— My son blows a raspberry on my wife’s leg that sounds like a wet fart that would make Foley artists jealous. He’s 18 months old, struggles to communicate with words, and falls on his face several times a day, but DAMN can the kid make fart sounds.

He tries to raspberry our dog, with less success.

— A Tom Savage red zone interception leads to a Rams field goal just before the half. It should have been at least a 10-6 lead for Houston, and instead they trail 9-7.

— Cowboys-Falcons is … fine, I guess. I’m not paying close attention, but it looks like the absence of Zeke Elliott has led to Dak Prescott trying to do too much. Dak’s hurting from the absence of Tyron Smith, too — Adrian Clayborn’s having a great game. Clayborn sacks and strips Prescott, ending what had been a solid Cowboys drive. The Falcons lead 10-7 at the half.

LATE GAMES, SECOND HALF

— My wife, attempting to sanitize the floors after the first poop incident, makes the mistake of letting the kids see the cleaning supplies. Soon my son has the broom, and my daughter has the Swiffer, and she’s shouting, “KALAYLA! KALAYLA!”

“What does ‘kalayla’ mean?” I ask her.

She widens her eyes and says, “Maloa!”

It is possible we’ve been listening to the Moana soundtrack a little too much.

— A Tom Savage pick-6 is wiped off the board by Rams defensive holding. Alec Ogletree was responsible for both the interception and the penalty. It looked like a ticky-tack penalty to me, but I feel that way about 95% of defensive holding calls. It’s a garbage penalty that shouldn’t result in an automatic first down.

— RedZone cuts away from a replay of a 94-yard Robert Woods touchdown to get back to commentary on the challenge of Sterling Shepard’s catch.

NINETY-FOUR YARD TD!@JaredGoff16 to @robertwoods! #LARams http://pic.twitter.com/QUd2pQiUgq

— NFL (@NFL) November 12, 2017

.@sterl_shep3 only needs one hand! What a grab! #GiantsPride http://pic.twitter.com/aIpFwubPru

— NFL (@NFL) November 12, 2017

Yo, RedZone, you know I love you, but go ahead and put Dean Blandino on hold so I can see that 94-yarder a second time. I can wait 15 seconds to find out if the good catch was ruled a catch.

— The Giants miss a 34-yard field goal and are still down 17-13. Ben McAdoo exerts some more of the leadership that’s led the Giants to two straight months of losses:

McAdoo is definitely a cop http://pic.twitter.com/y1kwQ3bFFW

— CJ Fogler (@cjzero) November 12, 2017

I disagree with the above tweet; I think McAdoo looks like an early aughts Central Valley rap-metal fan. But I include it because it’s a picture of what Garett describes here:

@mattufford I'm almost certain that every time they have shown McAdoo on TV, he's just watched the Jumbotron and never said a word into his headset or anyone else. You're the coach, say something!

— Garett Dmytrowich (@garettdmy) November 13, 2017

He’s right!

— I give my son his bath, and get back to the TV in time to see Sammy Watkins strolling in the end zone. It’s 23-7. Looks like that’ll do it for the Texans.

Also, I should note that I had only written as much as “Looks like that” in the sentence above before Tom Savage got strip-sacked.

FURTHERMORE: I got as far as “written” in the sentence above before Robert Woods scored again. That’s two touchdowns in 19 seconds for the Rams, and the Texans are EXTRA cooked.

— My daughter comes up to me. “Where’s Moana?” she asks, looking at my computer. We listen to the soundtrack on Spotify regularly, and I’ve shown her a couple of videos from the movie (“You’re Welcome” and “How Far I’ll Go”) while encouraging her to poop on the potty. Once she fills up her poop chart with stickers, she’ll get to watch the whole movie for the first time.

After subduing her desire to be any of the Disney princesses who just go to sleep until a man solves their problems, I’m more than happy to steer her towards Moana. It’s every father’s dream to teach his daughter celestial navigation.

— Matt Ryan throws a TD to Austin Hooper, and the Falcons lead 24-7.

what I think about every time they say "Hooper" during a Falcons game http://pic.twitter.com/rnfv5bK8rf

— Matt Ufford (@mattufford) February 6, 2017

— While I attempt to brush his teeth, my son swats my hand, smearing toothpaste on his forehead. My daughter thinks that’s funny, so she wipes toothpaste on HER forehead. “They’ll be able to play with each other,” my wife and I told each other when we planned on having two kids close in age.

— Make that six sacks for Adrian Clayborn. Let’s see, the Falcons’ next opponent is ... oh, the Seahawks. And their new left tackle just injured his ankle. Splendid. Can’t wait for that.

— Matt Breida zips through the middle of the Giants defense for a 33-yard TD to put the Niners up 31-13. The Falcons are up 27-7, the Rams are up 30-7, and this column is over without sticking around for any final scores. I’ve dealt with enough shit today, thank you very much.