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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting.

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition.

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something.

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus.

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold.

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?”

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket.

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?”

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy.

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier.

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him.

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?”

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before.

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes.

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare.

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks.

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus.

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice.

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked.

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs.

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound.

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly.

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping.

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark.

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead.

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it?

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus'#ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

Text

Saving the world (Double booking pt 2)

I was asked to write a second part, and as inspiration struck, well… here it is.

They've shared a room. Now what?

If you like it, let me know :D

Word count: 5655

Part 1

_______________________________________________________________________

The light is seeping under the curtains, dragging you back to the conscious world, but you're not ready to get up just yet. So you squeeze your eyes shut and stretch your back. It's stiff as a board, and your cheek has seemingly set in a permanently squished position. The room feels stuffy and warm, and there's a soft noise you don't recognise at first. But when you finally open your eyes, you can't help but smile.

Everything's a bit blurry without your glasses, but there's no mistaking the man sleeping in the bed next to yours. His arm, which you suddenly notice isn't gloved, but a prosthetic, is hanging over the edge of the bed, and if you strain your imagination, it's almost stretched towards you.

It looks like he hasn't moved at all during the night. Neither have you when you come to think of it. When you stretch again, your neck cracks as if you were eighty, and it's a struggle to lift one leg over the other, though that might just be that you're still half asleep.

As you fumble for your glasses, Bucky opens his eyes and gives you a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

Your heart skips a beat, and it's as if you've forgotten all suitable responses to such an innocent greeting. "Yeah." That's what comes out of your mouth, and you groan.

"You sleep good?" He yawns and props up on his elbow.

"Mhm. Like a baby."

"Me too."

You grin and roll over on your back just as the loudest growl erupts from your stomach. Heat creeps up your neck and ears, and you mutter a soft "Sorry."

Bucky laughs. "Don't apologise for being hungry. What do you say we go get some breakfast?"

"I could eat."

After a quick shower and a couple of frustrating minutes picking an outfit, you really don't want to look like a slob in front of Bucky, you're both seated in the restaurant, devouring the bacon and eggs like your lives depend on it.

The conversation is light. You're slowly getting to know each other. "I'm freelancing for the government," Bucky says and gulps down his orange juice. "It's all really boring, though."

You nod and stuff your mouth with bacon. "I'm sure it isn't. But paperwork, am I right?" you add with a chuckle.

Nodding, he wipes his mouth and takes another bite. "Mhm. How about you?"

"Oh, it's not very interesting. I freelance too, I guess. Right now I've been hired to design a calendar with paintings from the city. It's not well paid, but it's fun."

"So you're an artist? May I see some of your work?"

Suddenly you feel a bit self-conscious. That's weird. You haven't had doubts about your art in forever. "I've got some photos in my phone." You hesitate for a second, then fish it out and unlock it. Scrolling down, you find the series of paintings you did last spring. Green and lush, you get a pang of longing for the fresh air and colourful flowers. The contrast is vast from the grey city.

"Wow, these are good!" Bucky exclaims and starts gushing over your lines and colour and the composition, and you feel your ego inflating with every word. All you can do is sit there with a stupid grin on your face, and a pulsing heat in your cheeks, while he builds you up like he's a professional.

You've totally forgotten the time when the staff tells you that the restaurant, unfortunately, is closed now, but that you're welcome back for dinner later. With many an apology, the two of you get up and head to the lobby, where you stay, talking for almost an hour before you remember why you are here in the first place.

"Sorry," you say, and mean it. "I need to get some work done before the light goes. I was thinking of heading down to the harbour today. See if the water can inspire me."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess." Bucky looks down on his feet and gives you a small smile. Then he looks up again, his eyes shining, competing with the glorious smile that grows on his lips. "Do you mind if I come with you? I mean… you don't have to say yes, I just…"

"No, of course." You're relieved that he asked, letting you out of asking him yourself. "Some company would be lovely. Just gotta get my stuff. Meet you back here in ten minutes?"

He nods and sighs almost imperceptibly once you've turned away, watching as you almost skip towards the elevator. A tiny voice in the back of his head warns him that he has tripped and is going to fall hard if he doesn't get a grip soon, but he ignores it. The feeling is too pleasant to care just now.

The next few days you establish a routine of sorts. Bucky knocks on your door, asks to sleep next to you, you say yes, and you wake up, turned towards each other. After breakfast, you head out into the city, sometimes he's leading the way, sometimes you have a plan, and you spend the day drawing and talking and without realising it, falling hard for him. Every evening you have dinner in one of the restaurants near the hotel, and every evening you forget what is happening around you, and all you can focus on is Bucky.

_____________________________________________________________________

The sun is shining. A bird is singing in the tree behind you. You can barely hear the traffic from the road outside the park. Bucky is lounging on the grass, chewing on a straw, and you've been drawing him in secret for the past two hours, your original subject completely forgotten and rejected. When he looks up at you, his face is filled with happiness. "This is nice," he says, careful to mask his full joy.

"Yes, it is," you reply, quickly hiding the drawing under a sketch of the bridge and skyline.

He sits up and looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth instead. After a small pause, he gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's go grab something to eat."

"Okay," you whisper, breathless from the feel of his hand in yours. "Lead the way."

He takes you to a small café at the edge of the park, explaining that it's famous for its fries, and they've got the bestdipping sauce, you just have to try it.

You're in the middle of the meal, laughing at a joke, when a shadow interrupts. Looking up, you hear Bucky mutter a curse under his breath, and you feel a pinprick of fear in your neck. He's glaring at the stranger, and the stranger surprisingly returns the look.

"Um…" You look between Bucky, sat at the table with a curly fry sticking out from the corner of his mouth, staring daggers, to the man who just interrupted your lunch. The truth smacks you in the head with force. Holy shit! That's Captain America. Captain freaking America! And it slowly dawns on you who Bucky really is.

The glass you just picked up slides back to the table, sprite sloshing over the sides as it hits, but you don't realise your hand is cold and wet. All you can focus on is that your roommate for the last week is… Bucky Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier. Yeah. You try very hard to swallow the food in your mouth, but it's so dry, and forcing it makes your throat ache.

Said soldier quickly chews the curly fry and swallows thickly. "What do you want, Sam?"

Sam hands him a pad, and upon reading the contents, Bucky's frown deepens.

"It's very nice to meet you," Sam says, his shining smile lighting up the whole room. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Y/N," you reply, still unaware that the hand you're using to shake Captain America's hand with is wet and slightly sticky. Actually, you're kinda unaware of your surroundings altogether.

Sam laughs, making Bucky look up from the message, scowls at Sam, then returns to his reading. "So you're the one who's keeping Bucky busy, huh?" He winks, and you feel that heat creeping up the back of your neck. "From the look on your face, I'd say you didn't know who you're having lunch with, right?"

You nod, squeaking a confirmation.

Sam laughs. "I thought after the whole Flag Smashers case, everybody knew who Bucky was."

Your ears burn, and you breathe a little faster now. Of course, you've been to the exhibit at the Smithsonian, and of course you know about Steve Rogers' best friend, it just never connected in your brain that this super sweet man is a WWII hero and assassin.

Your eyes flick from his prosthetic arm and up to his face. "Uh… I'm just not super into the whole celebrity thing?" you offer, blurting out the first thing that pops into your head.

Snickering, Sam turns to Bucky. "And you didn't tell her?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Bucky picks on a stain on the table before setting up a defiant face. "It didn't come up." And he wants to add And by the way, how do you go about saying Oh, and FYI I'm a former assassin and murderer, to a woman you really want to get to know better?

He looks so uncomfortable, you get a strong urge to hug him, but now you're uncertain of all this. What if the two of you are against the rules? Wait, what are you, really? Friends? Accidental roommates? You like Bucky. You really like Bucky, and you had kinda hoped it would grow into something… more, but now… Swallowing the lump in the back of your throat – that was an unexpected reaction – you smile flatly. "Are, are you allowed to, to… I mean, can you be friends with…" You swallow again. "Civilians?"

Sam's eyes widen for a split second, and somehow you feel as though he can see right through you. Then he laughs, and all the tension around the table dissipates. "Of course. We're human, Bucky's human, as difficult as that is to believe. Of course we're allowed to have friends, relationships, family. Wouldn't be much of a life without it, would it? But expect them to do a background check on you, hell, they probably already know what you ate for dinner on your twelfth birthday."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I'm afraid I have to whisk your boyfriend away for a while. There's a situation."

"We're… we're not…" You have to admit that thought feels good, but really, any hope you had has been well and truly smashed.

Bucky gets up and smacks the pad at Sam. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here," you reply with fake confidence. "Please be safe. Both of you," you add with a small smile.

"You too," Bucky says softly. "Be careful if you go out after dark. It's not as safe as you think here."

That makes you snort. "It's me. I don't even like people, what am I supposed to do outside after dark, huh? Don't worry. I'll probably stay in my room and paint all day anyway."

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "good", but it's hard to hear over Sam. "I'll take care of him," he laughs, ducking under Bucky's hand as he swats at his head. "Come on, Buck. Let's roll."

"Be safe," you mutter again, looking after them as they head to the black, unmarked car waiting by the flower shop on the corner. It's as if all colour drains from your vision.

_______________________________________________________________________

The first sip of coffee feels divine; just what you need to wake up after spending another night without Bucky. It has been another restless night. You tossed and turned and couldn't settle properly. And the dreams… You'd rather not think about them. Never before has your brain produced such chaotic absurdities, such eldritch horrors, but to be honest you're not really surprised. Sleeping next to Bucky; something just clicked. You smile into your cup, feeling calmer just thinking about it. It's weird how quickly you got used to his presence, and how wrong it feels when he isn't there.

But you don't get to enjoy your drink for long. Before you've even finished the second sip, someone shoves you hard from behind. The coffee spills over the sidewalk, painting the concrete and splashing all over your shoes. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" you bark, turning to confront whoever pushed you. But before you can even see them, they pull a bag over your head.

Panic rises in you, and you scream until your throat feels raw. Someone smacks you across the mouth, and the shock and pain shuts you up. Your lip thumps: it's split, you can taste the blood now. Tears stream down your cheeks, the soft fabric of the bag clings to your skin. Feeling the darkness caress your mind, the world starts folding in over itself. Still you possess enough awareness to kick the person holding you. They yelp and swear, resulting in a sharp rap over your ear. Your head is ringing.

A pair of strong arms pick you up as if you weigh nothing, and haul you along, struggling with your flailing arms and legs. There's a metallic clang, like a van door opening, then you're half lifted, half pulled up, all while screaming and cursing, hoping someone – anyone – will hear.

Someone speaks a language you don't recognise; your sleeve is pushed up and there's a sharp prick in your arm. Seconds later your brain starts spinning. The faint light that seeps through the weaving of the bag blinks like a starry sky.

You sway back and forth, feeling off kilter and fuzzy, as the voices around you grow all garbled and muted. Someone pushes you backwards, but before you hit the floor, you're out. As the world fades from your consciousness, you just wish you could have seen Bucky one more time.

When you come to, your head is pounding, your mouth is dry, and everything is dark. You try to move, but your hands are shackled, and your feet are bound to whatever you're sitting on. At least you're right side up, you think, before the situation dawns on you, and the contents of your stomach threatens to make an appearance. You swallow thickly. God, your mouth is so dry. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and there's not enough liquid to even wet your lips. All you can do is grimace, feeling how they crack and pop. It stings. The taste of metallic, rusty blood coats your tongue.

Your throat itches, so much so that you can't even speak, but you can cough. Hard, like explosions in your head, and it's enough for you to lose your breath.

Something floppy is shoved into your hands.

"It's upside down, you idiot!" someone shouts, and the paper is turned.

Panic surges through your body, and your throat constricts, increasing your coughing. Your heart is racing, but everything happens so fast you just can't process it. Someone removes the bag from your head. The light burns in your eyes, and the shock stops your coughing instantly. Everything is white. There's voices, and movement, but you can't see anything clearly, and for a moment you wonder if you've lost your contact lenses. Slowly your vision returns, but they all keep to the shadows, and they've covered their faces, so you can't make out any details. The buzzing in your ears almost drown out every sound in the room.

"Look straight ahead," they command, and by some miracle you actually manage to move your head. "Keep your eyes open. Ready!"

There's a bright flash, someone else yells "Got it!" and then, in a flurry of motions you're untied, dragged through a dark hallway and unceremoniously dropped on the floor. The door clangs ominously behind you, and you freeze, waiting for someone to grab you or hurt you. There's no one in the room, but you remain in the floor, rubbing your wrists and trying to calm your breathing.

It's cold in your cell, room, whatever people call it, but at least you've got a blanket, and they've fed you, so there's that. But no matter how many times you've asked, nobody tells you anything.

You're over the initial shock now, and the fear has begun to settle into anger, but you're too numb to react.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? I'm no one, never been important in my whole life, hey, someone please say something." Silence. You bang on the door, not sure what you're hoping for. In the back of your mind you know it's risky, but you need to know. The silence is making the walls come closer. You lick your lip. It's bleeding again.

You figure your friendship with Bucky has something to do with your current predicament, but you're not sure exactly what they hope to achieve. It's not like you're best friends or anything, but maybe what you have is enough for him to come for you. That thought sends an electric jolt straight to the small of your back. For a moment you allow yourself to hope, to imagine him blasting through the door and marching in with murder in his eyes, angels singing, and the light surrounding him like a halo.

You laugh grimly. What are even the odds of him finding out where you are? Does he even care? He is the Winter Soldier, after all. He's probably got better things to do, he's busy saving the world, no doubt.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky smiles as he walks through the hallway, the ugly carpet muting the urgency in his steps. He can't wait to see you again. It's only been four days, but it feels like forever so the moment he got the all-clear after mission report, he made Sam drop him off at your hotel.

A short walk later he's standing outside your room, heart in his throat and arm outstretched, ready to knock. His stomach dances, pure happiness courses through him. It's been so long since he felt like this; he swears he can almost feel it in his metal arm.

A soft knock. No answer. He knocks again, harder this time. Still no answer. It's only a few minutes past eleven, you won't be asleep yet. You never fall asleep before midnight.

Suddenly it's like someone's poured a bucket of ice water over him. Putting an ear against the door, he listens like some kind of creep, but the room is silent. Maybe you're out. But that doesn't make sense either. It's too dark to get any proper work done, and you're not one for night clubs, or so you've said. Could you have checked out? Bucky's heart skips a beat. What if you're gone? But… wouldn't you at least have left him a message?

Turning on his heel, he marches back to the elevator as if he's got the devil on his tail. There's a really nasty feeling growing in his gut, something he just can't afford to think about now.

He presses the elevator button multiple times, but it takes its sweet time, so instead, he heads to the stairs, taking several steps at once, then skips the steps altogether and jumps over the railing, landing with a heavy thud on the ground floor.

There's a tenseness to his stride as he walks to the front desk, feeling more and more anxious with every breath. He never thought he'd feel this way again; that pit in his stomach and the growing stone in his chest. Last time, he was on a plane, heading for Italy in 1943, not knowing what was waiting for him.

"Excuse me," he says, rather gruffly, spooking the receptionist, though how she didn't hear him stomping through the lobby is a mystery. His own ears buzz loudly, and it's a miracle he can hear her at all.

"Good evening. How may I help you?" She smiles in that professional way people do when they're interrupted and don't really want to talk.

Bucky glances at the reflection in the glass wall behind her. Solitaire. He shakes his head to clear it a bit. "Um, yeah. Is there a message for me? For James Barnes or maybe Bucky."

She looks through the papers on the desk and shakes her head. "Sorry."

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. "Okay. Don't suppose you could tell me if Y/N has checked out of room 508?" His brows furrow, but he tries to smile anyway.

Another head shake. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose that kind of information." She looks briefly at her screen, then back up at Bucky, fake smile plastered on her face.

Bucky bites his tongue and swallows the rage that's building in him. It's not the receptionist's fault. She doesn't understand. But then he gets an idea. "Right, of course," he says, making his voice sweeter. "But maybe you will allow me to leave her a message?"

"Certainly. Let me grab a pen and paper for you."

So you haven't checked out. From the look on her face, the receptionist doesn't realise she's confirmed his suspicions. Well, he'll leave a message just in case, but it's time for drastic measures.

Outside it's dark now. Low clouds are threatening with rain. No one sees the dark figure slipping around the corner and jumping to grab the lowest rung of the fire ladder. Bucky easily hoists himself up, and climbs to the fifth floor, keeping to the shadows and making as little noise as possible. He knows where the window to your room is, and in less than a minute he's standing on the tiny balcony, peering in.

The room looks untouched. The bed is made, your stuff is all there. There's an almost finished portrait on the sketch pad on the desk; a smiling, content picture of himself. Nothing is missing except you. Bucky is three seconds from losing it.

A cold raindrop hits the back of his neck, drawing him from his haze. Soon the sky has opened up, and he's blasted with icy water. It soaks through his jeans, and drips from his hair into his eyes. Without looking back, he slides down the fire ladder and lands in a puddle. He doesn't know what to do next. Maybe Sam knows, so he ducks back into the hotel to get out of the rain, but before he can make the call, he's interrupted by the receptionist.

"Mr Barnes, I apologise. I didn't see this before. Someone left this for you." The woman hands him a large, brown envelope. All of a sudden he's transported back in time; drowning in flashes of memories of past missions, but he shakes himself out of it. Leaning on the column by the door, he opens the envelope.

There's nothing in there but a photo. It makes his stomach turn, and for the first time since he's been free, he has to fight the rage of the Winter Soldier, expanding, threatening to explode and send him on a vengeance fuelled killing spree. "When? Do you know who delivered it?" His voice is darker than usual, and the woman steps back just from the sound.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks. "It's been here for a couple of days, I think. I wasn't here when it was delivered." She hurries back behind her counter, putting a safe distance between them.

Bucky adjusts his stance, and forces his voice to sound kinder. "Thank you. Is there somewhere I can make a phone call, undisturbed?"

She nods and points to a nook behind the oversized fern in the corner. There's a sliding glass door that will provide some privacy.

Turning the envelope over in his left hand, Bucky is careful to not leave any more fingerprints on it. It is unmarked, but he knows people who can read things that no one else can see.

Whipping out his phone, he dials the first number in the contact list. He doesn't realise it, but he's shaking. The four seconds it takes for Sam to pick up are an excruciating eternity, and Bucky grips the door handle to keep himself from running off without a plan.

Before he can even say hello, Bucky wheezes: "They've got her, Sam!"

"Who?"

"Y/N! They've taken her!" He closes his eyes. The photo has burned into his mind.

"I'm on my way."

Bucky relaxes his grip on the door. There's a dent in the metal, and that makes him even angrier. They've made him lose control. He curses as he exits the tiny room, pacing over the floor, waiting for the voice of reason to arrive.

Being Sam, being Captain America, opens a lot of doors, so when he shows up at the hotel, requesting to look through the surveillance tapes – though it really is a demand; he's got a way with words, Bucky muses, thinking back to when he realised that what he first took as being soft, really isn't soft at all. Anyway, they all fawn over each other, fighting to be the one to give Cap access. Bucky can hardly watch.

"Give us a few minutes," Sam says with a smile, settling in front of the computer.

"Of course." The manager bows and closes the door.

Then Sam turns to Bucky. "Okay. When did you see her last?"

"Four days ago, right before we left on that goddamn mission." He wants to beat himself that he exposed you to danger, and he resists the urge to take out his irritation by slapping Sam over the head. Instead he settles on a flat, emotionless that he hopes conveys all his frustration.

"Right, so somewhere after last Thursday, then." Sam pushes a button, selects the right floor and presses play. Nothing happens for a while, and he pushes a new button, making the footage speed up.

"There!" Bucky shouts, pointing at the screen. There you are. Leaving your room with a large bag over your shoulder. Bucky smiles in spite of his fear. A soft expression on your face and your trusty art supplies at your side. Everything looks normal.

Fast forwarding through the footage, nothing out of the ordinary happens. You return around seven, looking a little bit tired, but happy enough. Food is brought to your room an hour later, and you don't go out again that night.

"Sensible girl," Sam comments, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. But she didn't know how much danger she was in."

The night passes in a blur. A drunk couple stumbles through the hallway around two in the morning, but other than that it's quiet, until you leave again around 10am, again with your bag over your shoulder. You look tired, yawning and dragging your feet. The bounce in your step is gone, Bucky notices, and he wonders if it has anything to do with your abduction.

They keep fast forwarding, but when the time stamp shows 11.30pm, Bucky's chest plummets. He knows you're not coming back.

Sam looks at him. “Calm down, man. You look like you’re about to explode!” he hisses, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shakes him off and glares. “Because I’m this close.”

“But that won’t do her any good, will it? We gotta keep our cool, don’t do anything rash.” Sam's voice is still calm. Bucky doesn't know how he does it.

"Fine." Bucky takes a deep breath, just how his therapist taught him. "Show me what direction she went."

Sam clicks and drags the front camera onto the screen. You stop outside for a few minutes, then head down the street towards the city centre. They follow you on the screen until you disappear from view.

There's a shoe shop on the corner where you turned, so after thanking the hotel manager for the help, they follow your moves through the city. The shoe shop doesn't have a quality video, but it's enough to recognise you. Tracking you through the streets feels like an endurance hunt, Bucky thinks, impatient to find out who took you and where you are. That's all he can focus on: to get you back. And god have mercy on your kidnappers if you're not okay. Eventually Sam and Bucky stop at a small restaurant, but they don't have surveillance at all.

"Okay. Let's head to that Starbucks," Bucky says, nodding across the road. "They're bound to have surveillance, right?"

Sam rolls his shoulders. "Let's go."

The video shows three large figures, lurking in the shadows in one of the side streets. They're watching as you enter the café, and when you exit with a large coffee in hand, the gang is ready. The footage jumps a bit, but it captures the terror in your face, and Bucky feels like throwing up. You're hauled into a waiting van, it's an unmarked, normal van, but as it speeds away, luck strikes. The camera got a clear shot of the number plate.

Bucky lets Sam handle the rest. He can't shake the guilt, the pit in his stomach that grows larger and larger. And his anger grows too. Why didn't anybody react, nobody can convince him that nobody heard or saw anything. He watches as Sam talks on the phone, already mentally punching your kidnappers to a pulp. The metal arm flexes involuntarily.

Sam puts down the phone and turns to Bucky. "Okay, so here's what they told me: The van isn't connected to anything, they didn't even have a name for me. It's probably a fake number plate. But they said it's been spotted driving to and from a warehouse not too far from here. Let's go suit up while we're waiting for the address."

Bucky exhales. They better hurry up with the address. You've been in captivity for far too long already.

_______________________________________________________________________

It's quiet in the building now. You don't know what time it is; they've taken all your stuff, but you know it's late. Your eyes sting, both from exhaustion and from wanting to cry, not to mention your contacts are getting dry, but you refuse to remove them – not being able to see would terrify you. But neither sleep nor tears come. Sitting on the cot, wrapped in the blanket they thankfully provided, you are too wound up to relax enough to sleep. What if someone comes in while you're out? There's not much chance to defend yourself, but at least if you're awake you can try to put up a fight.

How long have you been here? It's hard to tell. After the first shock they've pretty much left you alone. Except for the interrogation a few hours later. They kept asking you about where Bucky is, what he's doing, details on his mission, but you told them, truthfully, that you don't know anything. And they seem to believe you. But they still won't let you go. You sigh and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Even if you knew everything you wouldn't have told them anything, but you didn't say that out loud.

Suddenly there's a loud bang reverberating through the walls. Instinctively you flinch, trying to make yourself smaller. Your blood roar in your ears, and it feels like your heart is trying to beat its way through your rib cage. There's a pause – the silence is deafening, then someone yells. You hear gunshots. Heavy boots rush past your door. It's torture just listening to the fight, not knowing what will happen. What if there's a fire? Or what if you're abandoned here? Is this how you're gonna die?

The fight is getting closer. You drag the blanket over your head, locking your arms around your neck. Unfortunately it doesn't mute the sounds, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. Slowly the fight dies down, and for a moment everything is calm. You feel woozy, grateful that you're already sitting down, and you steel yourself for what comes next.

The door opens. Heavy boots slaps against the hard floor. Someone blocks out the light, and you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you flinch and whimper.

A soft voice whispers in your ear. "Y/N?"

You forget to breathe again.

"Y/N," the voice repeats, coaxing you out of your makeshift cocoon.

You look up, and into the eyes of the man you never thought you'd see again. His face is blood-spattered, and his expression is a murderous rage, but the moment your eyes meet, he softens. "Bucky," you breathe, folding yourself out, and reaching for him like a toddler.

He scoops you up, holding you close as you begin to sob into his neck, and he rocks you back and forth until you calm a bit. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking your head, you climb down from his lap and looks over at Sam, hovering by the door. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher.

"You're bleeding," Bucky says, touching your lip gingerly.

"Oh." You don't know what else to say, as he helps you up on your feet. His arm stays around your shoulders all the way out into open air, and you lean into his embrace. The building is littered with bodies, some are definitely dead, others are being detained by soldiers dressed in black. Your knees buckle from the sight.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky murmurs into your hair.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to get me."

"Of course," Sam says, offering you a reassuring smile. "Why shouldn't we?"

You exhale shakily through your nose. "I thought you were busy saving the world and all."

Bucky pulls you closer.

"Don't you know?" Sam asks quietly, so no one else can hear. "You are his world."

_______________________________________________________________________

@schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel fan fiction #fanfic #female reader #fluff #angst #marvel

47 notes · View notes

tanookikiss · 3 years

Photo

Paul’s Birthday

Pairing: Tommy x Paul, Gene x Eric. S

Rating: T

Author’s note: So I’ve had this silly little fluffy idea in my head for about a month. I wasn’t sure if I was going to finish it in time, but I have some awesome friends to thank for that. Thank you @ashestoashesvvi for offering me valuable art tips and suggestions for this story.

................................................................................................................................

Tommy looked forward to all special occasions. He adored gatherings, celebrating milestones with his loved ones. However, there was one special occasion in particular that the guitarist had been prepping for months: Paul’s birthday.

The Spaceman would be the first to admit his infatuation with The Starchild. Who could blame him? Paul was the whole package; smart, sexy, kind, and talented. The two had spent a lot of time together, bonding over their shared love of painting, and Tommy cherished every minute of it. He adored any chance to be with Paul, really, but there was something special and intimate about their art sessions. He had taught Paul a few tips here and there, and Paul took to it like a natural.

Paul wasn’t just painting a canvas; he was baring his soul. His radiant smile sent butterflies a flutter throughout Tommy’s stomach when he mixed his paints. There was a childlike wonder that twinkled within those beautiful chocolate eyes as the brush met the canvas ever so delicately. Paul was soft and vulnerable. It was a side of himself that he shields from the world out of fear and that made Tommy sad. Paul was at his most beautiful whenever he could let go and create. And Tommy was determined to help set him free.

As the party guests were busy mingling in Paul’s living room, Tommy was busy setting up his grand gift display in the art studio. Gene and Eric distracted Paul while Tommy meticulously re-arranged the color palette to be perfect. Nothing was too good for his Paul. He smiled as he observed his display.

“Hey Tommy, if you want any cake you better hurry before Gene monopolizes the sweets table,” Eric announced, walking into the studio with a glass of champagne. “Holy shit! How many cans of paint did you buy!?” he exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink all over the floor.

“Seventy-two,” Tommy replied with pride. “All seventy-two colors of Liquitex Professional Acrylic Paint. It took me weeks to get every single color to complete the collection,” he gestured to the colorful pyramid display in the center of the room.

Eric blinked, completely gobsmacked at the impressive rainbow pyramid before him. “Of all the things you could’ve bought Paul, you spent weeks buying various fingerpaints!”

“This is the highest quality acrylic paint on the market. All of the great artists use this brand. It’s in very high demand!” Tommy blurted out, explaining his reasoning to the skeptic drummer.

Eric squinted his eyes. “Oh yeah? What’s so special about it?”

Tommy carefully pulled a red bottle down from the display. He opened the top to show Eric the buttery red consistency inside. “Each color is uniquely formulated to bring out the brilliance and clarity of the individual pigment. It’s perfect for color mixing.”

Eric still couldn’t see what was so great about this overpriced paint. It looked like regular red paint to him, but he knew Tommy went to a lot of trouble to get it for Paul, and he knew how important it was for his friend, so he tried to be as cordial as he could, “Yeah, that red is…very red,” he smiled, patting Tommy on the back. “I’m sure Paul will love it.”

Tommy smiled back at his friend. “Paul is an artistic genius! He only deserves the best.”

Eric scratched his head while observing Paul’s latest painting titled, “Doors Of Perception” in confusion. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far…I mean, this door looks more like a window!”

“I think it looks like a waffle.”

Tommy and Eric turned their heads to see Gene propped outside the door, munching on his cake.

Tommy shook his head. “You guys aren’t looking deep enough into the emotionally charged compositions. It’s Abstract Art. It’s not supposed to be realistic. The colors and shapes represent aesthetic ideas instead of natural forms.”

Gene and Eric gave each other a puzzled look with arched eyebrows before turning their attention back to their supposedly art connoisseur Spaceman.

“Then how do you explain this one?” Gene asked, pointing his fork to a canvas covered in brown smudges with a hint of blue and green along the edges.

Eric chuckled. “Let me guess…it’s supposed to be a window into the troubled soul of a starving artist,” he overdramatically stated, prompting a deep chuckle out of Gene.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “This one is not finished yet. Paul has been working on this piece for days now.”

Eric blinked. “It took him days to just randomly slap some brown, blue and green onto a canvas!?”

Tommy sighed. He honestly had no idea why he bothered trying to explain Abstract Art to these two unappreciative buffoons.

“Tommy? Are you back here?” Paul asked from outside the door.

In a hurry, Tommy put down the red bottle in the middle of the floor and scrambled to the door just before Paul could set foot into the room.

“Hey Paul,” he asked breathlessly, trying his best to block Paul’s view from his surprise.

Paul cocked his head curiously. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you left,” he said sadly, twirling a nervous finger around his necklace clasp.

“No! Never! I would never leave you…err… leave the party,” Tommy fumbled, shaking his head. Eric snickered behind him. Tommy resisted the urge to swat at him.

“What are you all doing in my art studio?” Paul asked, noticing Gene and Eric standing behind Tommy.

Before Tommy could speak, Eric blurted out, “Tommy has a surprise for you!”

“Oh!” Paul’s eyes lit up, and there was that joy that Tommy loved so much. “You got me a surprise! You didn’t have to…but I am glad you did,” his grin blossomed into a huge smile, melting Tommy’s heart on the spot.

Paul reached out and grabbed Tommy’s hand, pulling him out of the room. “We’re about to open presents in the living room. I didn’t want to start without you,” he said softly. Tommy blushed and followed Paul’s lead eagerly, ignoring Eric and Gene’s playful taunts the entire way back.

Once inside the living room, everyone gathered around Paul as he opened up his various exquisite gifts from Rolex watches to fine silk bed sheets.

“Alright, this is from Gene,” Paul said, picking up a random present from the table.

“Ha! Oh, this is going to be good,” Eric snorted, smacking his gum loudly. Gene gave Eric a stern look, which the Catman only gave a cheeky smirk in return.

Paul unwrapped the present, only to find a box. He opened the box and saw what looked like a wooden knife block with a knife in it. Paul pulled the knife out, dropping it in horror.

“Ah! What the hell, Gene?”

“What? It’s a Nesmuk! Didn’t you say you wanted one?” Gene crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, I did, but why the hell is it stained red?” Paul asked in disgust.

Everyone eyed the suspicious red substance all over the knife blade and then looked up at Gene with weirded out expressions.

“What? It’s just strawberry jam. Eric didn’t wash the dishes so I had to use the knife to make a sandwich,” Gene explained casually.

“So, instead of just washing a butter knife yourself you just used the expensive fine German cutting knife?” Eric laughed in between loud gum smacks.

“Uh, yeah, it’s still a utensil!” Gene defended abrasively.

“Well, um, thanks Gene,” Paul said with an obvious forced smile. He then reached for another gift in the pile.

“This one is from Eric,” Paul said, reading the tag.

Eric grinned in excitement as Paul unwrapped his gift.

“It’s a Nick Fouquet hat! By why is it flat?” he pouted, examining the squished black hat with a few dented blue feathers on the side.

“Gene accidentally sat on it,” Eric replied with crossed arms.

Gene merely shrugged as he continued munching on his chocolate cake.

Paul put the hat aside. “We should all head up to my studio. Apparently, Tommy has a marvelous surprise for me that I’m just dying to see,” he grinned at Tommy.

“I wanted to save the best for last,” he whispered in Tommy’s ear, causing the younger man to blush as he led the group up to Paul’s art studio.

Everyone oooh’d and ahhh’d over the beautiful acrylic paint display, but no one was more intrigued than Paul, of course.

“Is this the entire Liquitex Professional Acrylic Paint collection?” Paul asked in awe, circling around the magnificent seventy-two canned pyramid like an excited child on Christmas morning. “You got all of this for me!?”

Tommy couldn’t stop the large grin from spreading across his face even if he wanted to. “Yeah, I sure did.”

Without warning Paul pulled Tommy into a tight loving hug. “Thank you so much, Tommy! I love it!” he cheered, kissing Tommy on the cheek. “He taught me how to paint!” the birthday boy bragged to everyone in the room. Tommy’s cheeks burned hot as he leaned closer into the warm embrace. He wished he could stay in this position with Paul forever.

Breaking away from the hug, Paul still kept his arms around Tommy. “I want to test the colors out on a blank canvas,” he smiled, turning to grab a clean canvas.

As Paul was carrying a large canvas over, Tommy noticed the lone red paint can he had left in the middle of the floor carelessly. Quickly, he rushed over to retrieve the can to prevent Paul from tripping over it, but, unfortunately, Tommy’s foot caught a nearby easel causing him to lose his balance. Everything happened so fast. Before Tommy could get his wits about him, his arms, hands, the floor, and the unfinished painting were covered in red paint.

Surprised gasps filled the room as everyone grew quiet, staring down the clumsy guitarist.

“Nice fall, Grace!” Eric bellowed out loud, breaking the awkward silence.

“Did you have a nice trip?” Gene chimed in, making the already embarrassing situation ten times worse!

Tommy’s face flushed red. “I’m s...so sorry!” He stood up wobbly, looking around for some paper towels. He felt delirious as if he was trapped in some sort of nightmare.

“My painting!” Paul cried out, dropping the new canvas to rush over to inspect the damage done on his precious art work.

That precious glimmer in his eyes had dulled. That beautiful radiant smile had become a frown. That look of disappointment plastered on his face would forever haunt Tommy in his dreams. Several nosy bystanders had snapped out of their trance, rushing over with paper towels to help clean up the mess.

“Paul, I’m sorry,” Tommy’s voice cracked, staring at the other man helplessly.

Paul didn’t even look at him. He just stood motionless, staring at the ruined painting in silence. Tommy couldn’t bear it anymore and rushed off to the nearby bathroom, turning on the water faucet and pumping lots of soap into his hands. With a sad sigh, he scrubbed his hands and arms in the soapy water with fury. He wanted nothing more than to erase the evidence of his great blunder. The bright red paint residue mixed with the white soap had turned into a hideous pinkish color stained onto his skin. Who was he kidding? It would take days for this accursed color to come out. Just another painful daily reminder of how he ruined Paul’s birthday.

Tommy held his head down in shame, feeling completely ashamed and angry at himself for what had happened. He knew Paul had worked hard on that painting. All those relentless hours down the drain and all because of one careless mistake.

Paul knocked on the bathroom door before entering. “Tommy? Are you alright?”

Tommy took a deep breath and faced Paul. “Paul, I’m so sorry I ruined your painting. I just feel awful for what I did.”

“Ruined it?” Paul blinked at him. “You just made it even better.”

Tommy looked over in confusion. He wasn’t expecting that kind of response out of Paul. “What do you mean?”

Paul grinned, putting a plaster tool in Tommy’s hand. “Come on, we both started this, let’s finish it together.”

Tommy followed Paul back into the studio and observed the painting. The red and brown had mixed into a gorgeous burgundy color with hints of blue and green on the edges. The guests were buzzing around the painting like bees to honey, commenting on what a superb color that was. Gene and Eric stood dumbfounded, unable to figure out what everyone was so excited about. Gently, Paul put his hand on Tommy’s hand, guiding the plaster tool onto the canvas. Everyone watched closely as the two men moved like one. In one swift motion they had melded the gorgeous deep reddish colored form into a heart shape.

“Beautiful,” Paul whispered, his eyes surveying the gorgeous masterpiece.

Tommy nodded in agreement. “Beautiful,” he agreed.

Paul looked up to see that Tommy wasn't looking at the painting but at him instead. The two leaned in closer, sharing a gentle kiss.

~There are no mistakes, only happy accidents~ Bob Ross

#tanookikiss #kiss fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot #SpaceChild #DemonCat #tommy x paul #Gene x Eric S

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jungshookz · 5 years

Note

you know when you’re thinking of two different phrases but then it comes out mixed together so what if oc has this big ol crush on yoongi and she’s like hella shy around him and they’re paired up for a project and oc is debating if she should say “can you help me” or “can you hold this” but it comes out like “can you hold me” and cheeky yoongi actually does it hehe

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: university!au, fluFF!!!!!!, yoongi thinks y/n’s ass looks cute in a lab coat and y/n thinks yoongi is a brat

→ wordcount: 2.2k

→ note: i screamed when i got this request because i am an absolute HOE for cocky uni student yoongi :-))))))

(gif isn’t mine!)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

you can’t tell if the gods above are rooting for you or are completely against you and wanting to see you crumble under pressure because uh

it happened

guess who has two thumbs and just got paired up with their crush for a chemistry lab

you!!!!!

it’s your lucky day my friend

“yoongi and… y/n! you guys will be working together…” you let out a small breath as soon as professor kim makes the announcement and it takes everything within you to noT scream right now because,..,. oh goD it’s YOONGI

prof kim should’ve let you guys choose your own partners because you would automatically pair up with jimin and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything besides the lab

the thing is

you don’t even know why you have a crush on yoongi

you’ve only spoken to yoongi a handful of times and most of the interactions that you’ve had with him are mainly him asking you if there was homework or how your weekend/day was/is (he sits at the station behind you) or if he can borrow a pen from you

honestly speaking you’re far too shy to initiate conversation with him

he makes you nervous!!!!

maybe you have a crush on him because he’s always asking you how your weekend was or because he always gives you that signature Yoongi Smirk™ when you lend him your pen or because one time he complimented you on your scrunchie and said it was cute and you had a big fat smile on your face all day because of that (also that’s how jimin found out about ur crush on yoongi)

you can hardly focus on what professor kim is talking about because all you can think about is how you’re going to be able to handle explosive flammable liquids and delicate tools anD min yoongi all at the same time

yoongi immediately stops doodling in his notebook the moment prof kim announces that you’re going to be his lab partner

the corner of his mouth twitches in a smile

he actually thinks ur like suPER cute

the only problem is that it just seems like you’re completely petrified of him and he doesn’t get it

it’s as if you were a little deer and he was the big bad wolf or something

it’s not like he’s not going to eat you or anything!!!

he’ll get to that eventually

he’s had his eye on you since the first week of class

every time he asks you how your day’s going you always respond with a very timid ‘it’s going alright’ before quietly asking him how his day’s going

or when he asks you if he can borrow a pen because ‘mine is out of ink again!’ (even though it’s NOT) you can’t even look him in the eye as you turn around to hand him one of your pens

everything about you is cute

from the way you gnaw on the lid of your pen when you’re in deep thought (jimin always reaches over to yank the pen out of your mouth because he’s afraid you’re going to chip a tooth)

or when you pull your hair up into a high ponytail to keep your hair out of your face when taking notes when professor kim conducts one of his achingly long and oh-so-boring lectures

even your scrunchies are cute!! that checkered red one you wore the other day was nice (one time he complimented you on one of your scrunchies and he almost collapsed from the way you beamed and the way your nose scrunched up as you reached up to brush your fingers over the scrunchie and replied with a soft ‘thank u’)

that stripey green one you were wearing on tuesday wasn’t half bad either

also you always bring sweets into the lab even though ur technically not supposed to bring food into the classroom but yoongi always sees you bend down and reach into your bag to pull out a single m&m before popping it into your mouth quickly

sometimes you bring those fruit gummies (he overheard you telling jimin how hEaLthy you felt because the gummies had vitamin c in them)

one time you even offered him half of your kit-kat bar (you were feeling extra generous that day and yoongi looked extra handsome that day sO) and as simple of a gesture as it was he felt his heart skip a beat at your shy little smile and your ‘wanna split this with me?’

“and with that being said - get to work!” professor kim claps his hands together and everyone immediately disperses into their pairs

“have fun.” jimin teases quietly as he packs his things up to head over to his partner and you scowl at him before swatting his arm

you give yourself a mental pep talk

it’s not a big deal

this is just a chemistry lab

yoongi is just your lab partner

just.,., be cOOL

“so! what’s the game plan?” yoongi plops down on the stool next to you as soon as jimin leaves and you clear your throat

cool

be cool!

he hides his smile when he watches you start to pull your hair up into a ponytail

you have a periwinkle coloured scrunchie today

“the game plan is…” you wince a little when you accidentally yank out a couple strands of hair “i’ll assemble the simple distillation apparatus and the fractional apparatus and you can get the beakers, the test tubes-“ you gesture with your hands “and all that stuff.”

“‘and all that stuff’, huh? you got it, boss.” yoongi nods firmly and you let out a breath of relief when yoongi disappears to go and get everything

this’ll give you a chance to calm yourself down a little bit and focus on doing what you do beSt - work!!!! - without having the ever so handsome min yoongi around to make you accidentally drop a beaker or screw something in the wrong place

“you sure you don’t need any help?” yoongi comes back a couple minutes later with everything you need for the lab and you’re just about done with building the distillation apparatus

just a couple more pieces and you’ll be ready to get this show on the road

“wait, remind me what we’re doing again? i wasn’t paying attention to what prof kim was saying.” yoongi props his elbows up on the bench and leans back against it

“well-“ you pause for a second and look on the workbench for the metal extension clamp

it’s on the other end of the bench so you practically have to bend over the table to grab it and yoongi doesn’t want to be that guy but ur butt looks cute even in a lab coat

“we’ll be conducting a simple distillation and a fractional distillation of a mixture of cyclohexane and methylcyclohexane and comparing the two techniques to each other…” you trail off absentmindedly

you use the clamp to secure the round-bottomed flash to the ring stand and give it a small shake to make sure it’s stable

yEp

it’s good to go

“during the experiment, we’ll have to measure the distillation rate for each fraction - millilitres collected per minute, preferably - uh, the temperature range during the distillation of each fraction, and the composition of the distillate. got it?”

yoongi blinks owlishly at you

“…wait, wha-“

“okay, let’s get started!” you clap your hands together before nudging yoongi aside and looking down at all the tools excitedly

>:-)

so far so good

yoongi kind of let you take lead on the lab because it seems like you have everything under control

he feels kinD of bad because he’s not really doing anything (he’s been doodling for like the past 20 minutes) and he doesn’t know if you don’t need his help or if you’re too shY to ask for his help

and then

it happens

oh, HAPPY dAY it hAPPENS

“yoongi, can you hold me?”

wha-

did you just ask him if-

yoongi looks up from his notebook and he watches silently as you tinker around to find the right test tubes

he doesn’t know if he should just go for it or not but uh.,., he really wants to,.,.,

it doesn’t sink in that your brain muddled the two questions together and that you just asked min yoongi if he could hold you

you freeze immediately

wait

did i ask him if he could help me or if he could hold the test tube?

you look down at the test tube

can you help me?

can you hold this?

….

…can you.,,. hOLD ME

oH DEAR GOD

“i didn’t catch that… mind repeating yourself?” yoongi smirks lightly at you and your lips part upon realisation

holy shit

HOLY SH-

“i mean-“ you feel your cheeks flame up almost instantly and the test tube in your hand nearly cracks from how tightly your fingers are pinching it “c-can you hold this? can you help me by holding this?”

yoongi wants to sCREAM

what you said what an honest mistake but wowIE everything is falling into place for him and this is so very perfect because-

“i can certainly do that.” yoongi hops off his stool

“great! good.” you clear your throat and reach up to adjust your lab goggles “i, um, the ratio of cyclohexane and methylcyclohexane is one to one and i already measured it out so all you need to do is mix that together while i-“

you freeze when you feel yoongi’s arms slink around your waist before he’s pulling you back gently so that his chest is pressed against your back

he leans down to prop his chin up onto your shoulder and your heart actually feels like it’s about to explode because hUAHKHFAHSKASJD

“was this what you had in mind?” he hums and reaches over to take the test tube from you before carefully pouring it into the mixture

your face is practically on fire and you have to continuously remind yourself to not sCREAM

yoongi slides the test tube back into the holder and sets the beaker down before his arms wrap themselves around your waist again and you hear yourself let out a whimper

yoongi is fULLY spooning you right now and you don’t know if this is the best thing that has happened to you or the woRST thing that has happened to you

“everything okay?” yoongi smirks and has the audacity to nudge his nose into your cheek

“i mean i- i was going to ask you- it just came out-“

“yoongi, y/n - you two can be boyfriend-girlfriend outside of my classroom, but inside my classroom, you guys are lab partners, please!”

ᵒ ᵍᵒᵈ

you immediately push yoongi’s arms off of you as soon as you hear professor kim call the two of you out and you’re abouT to apologise profusely but then-

“got it, prof! we’ll keep the making out to a minimum.” yoongi salutes to him and the class bursts into dispersed chuckles

he turns back to look at you and grins when he notices how flustered you are

you’ve spelt cyclohexane wrong three times now and he knOWs it’s because of him

all

because

him

:-)

you let out a sigh before looking back up at yoongi who seems vEry satisfied with himself

well

two can play at this game

“c’mon, boyfriend. this cyclohexane-methylcyclohexane mixture isn’t going to distil itself.”

yoongi’s cheeks go bright red

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

#requested drabbles #yoongi drabbles #bts drabbles #yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff recs #yoongi fics #yoongi fic recs #yoongi #min yoongi #bts fluff #bts fluff recs #bts fics #bts fic recs #bts #bts smut #bts smut recs #yoongi smut #yoongi smut recs #bts university au

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chaggle · 4 years

Text

I love just accidentally encountering beautiful fucking artwork and just filled with joy from how fucking beautiful it is because holy shit op you are talented as fuck don't let anyone tell you otherwise holy shit holy fuck its so pretty aHHHHHH im dead too good, gonna save this a million times and look at it when I'm in need of motivation because the colors and composition is too good.

#cyd said a thing #me at this one artist i encountered on Instagram while looking for inspiration #INSTANT SEROTININ #JUST SO PRETTY #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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amostimprobabledream · 4 years

Text

My thoughts on Peaky Blinders...

Now I’ve finished Season Five, I wanted to get out my thoughts/ideas/opinions regarding the show. So strap in! - So first of all, the fucking cinematopgraphy in this series is gorgeous. You could take almost any scene and it looks like a painting. The lighting, the way it’s staged, it’s all just so visually pleasing to look at. My inner film student was just sighing dreamily at the shot composition. There’s a shot of John, Arthur and Tommy walking somewhere and you could fucking frame it and put it in your wall. - CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY. I mean, I always knew he was a good actor and also a pretty one, I think the role I remember him best in is Batman Begins, but holy shit, I never realised how hot he is until like two months ago. I know he apparently hates his Tommy haircut, but good lord, he can pull it off. The cheekbones! The eyes! The eyelashes! The sexy voice! Needless to say I saw him and immediately developed the biggest fucking crush. Apparently when I talk about Tommy to people my face goes pink. Thank you so much, show, for enlightening me to this human. Tommy is such a fantastic character, and I do wonder if another actor could pull him off quite as well. So much debate over his actions, motives, mindset, etc. I could probably write essays about the complexities of Tommy, but I won’t because this is a long-ass post anyway. He’s such a boss and I would die for him. - I actually really like Arthur??? So the very first clip of PB I ever saw was accidental, when I happened to turn the TV on and the Blinders were taking over the Eden Club and Arthur was glassing a guy in the face. I thought, “Oh, he’s probably like the dangerous thug character everyone is scared of.” (I didn’t know he’s Tommy’s brother at the time.) But actually he’s kind of endearing despite being the Shelby’s pitbull? Idk, the concept of the “failure” elder brother, how Arthur is the character the verbalises PTSD the most out of everyone, how one minute he can be lashing out like a rabid bear and then sobbing like a kid the next... I’m always like, “Oh, Arthur,” because you can see he wants to be a better person, but he just...doesn’t know how. - JOOOHN. I miss him! And it’s weird because in the early parts of the Season John doesn’t DO much but tag around after Tommy and Arthur, but his marriage to Esme is actually So Good and again, he’s actually kind of a softboi under the hard gangster act. (Also his “Do THIS, John, Do THAT, John, KILL YOUR FOOKIN’ TEACHER, JOHN!” is so fucking good.) He kind of provides a lightness when contrasted to Tommy and Arthur that I really do miss, because the last two Seasons have been very grim and I think John’s absence has something to do with it. I liked Esme too, even if she’s a stroppy bitch, her love for John but resentment of her role in the family and also she’s HELLA PRETTY. I’m sad her character has gone for now, but at least she wasn’t killed off. - I also love Ada a lot - I was really shocked when I read that Sophie Rundle hasn’t been acting all that long before she got the part in PB, because honestly she’s very good! And her concept again is a fun one - the only girl in a family of violent gangster boys. (Or as Freddy puts it, “The only princess”, which she is.) Having said that, I’m not sure how I feel about Ada’s character arc over the course of the season. In One she came off as kind of childish and still sort of stuck in her Rebellious Teen phase, then she became a mother and Freddie died, then in Season Two she’s trying to distance herself from the family and go legit, then in Season Four and Five she’s helping run the business and taking money from Tommy. Idk, I wish she’d play a more major role like her brothers because her motivations seem to change based on what the screenwriter wants, not what feels natural for her. Plus it annoys me that Ada blamed Ben Younger’s death on Tommy, but Tommy gets a lot of blame for things that aren’t his fault so I guess he’s used to it. Still, Ada is still a lot of fun when she does get to play a big role and gets some great lines later on. “Tommy Shelby is going to stop a revolution with his cock.” - POLLY, MY QUEEN! Easily the best woman on the show (sorry, Ada) and such a fucking badass. She’s definitely the voice of reason within the family and conflicting loyalty is a really interesting theme that gets explored with her, between her arguing nephews and niece, between her family or whether she wants to marry again and leave, her relationship with Michael, it’s all so great. Helen McRory is such a brilliant addition to the show. Also I love that Polly kinda represents women taking over after all the men went away to war and now they’re back, but the women aren’t just going to creep back into the house - World War One changed the workplace forever for women and I think Polly being the second in command after Tommy reflects that really well. - I think overall my favourite seasons have been Seasons One, Two and Four, I tend to find I get a bit bored in Peaky Blinders whenever it gets especially heavy on politics like in Season Three and Five and I admittedly kind of miss the simplicity of the early days of the show when it was about horse-racing, but the Changretta vs Shelby feud was genuinely really gripping and Adrien Brody was also Very Good. (I mean, I couldn’t take him seriously because of Brodyquest, but I like him a lot.) - I HATE GRACE. There, I said it. And honestly I have SO MUCH to say on why I hate her and also why I think she is the epitome of bad writing that has happened on this show that I might as well save it for a whole nother post, but Tommy and Grace’s relationship always felt so unnatural and forced to me, like they are in love because the screenwriter said so - Grace is the only woman Tommy knows who isn’t related to him and also because it pisses off Campbell. Like, she was tolerable if highly irritating in Season One, but then Two came along and she just got worse and worse. She’s annoyingly convinced she’s better than everyone else, pulls off a LOT of questionable shit that NO-ONE except Polly ever pulls her up on and Tommy repeatedly pining over a woman who lied to him and betrayed him makes no goddamn sense. I wish Stephen Knight would just let him get over her, because her showing up over and over again in the show after the bitch died two Seasons ago is so infuriating I want to throw my remote at the TV. The best bit of Season Three was someone finally putting a bullet in her, honestly. /rant - On that note, I really wish that they’d use May properly. She was introduced in Season Two and honestly her chemistry with Tommy is about a thousand times more believable than anything he had with Guuuhrayce and also May doesn’t consistently talk in that annoying, breathy voice and also she doesn’t shamelessly manipulate Tommy constantly. It’s too bad Stephen Knight couldn’t get Charlotte Riley back for Season Three owing to her pregnancy, because I think the trajectory of the show would have been very different. But her scene where she spoke about her husband and tried to hide that she was crying? So good. The fucking Face Tommy gives her when she asks for a mixer in her gin? Priceless. Agh - May’s been chronically underused in the show but she keeps getting mentioned every now and then, so I’m hoping there are plans for her to come back in Season Six. I really like her and I honestly think Tommy/May has been the best relationship he’s had, because it’s the only one that’s felt A) Natural and B) Equal. - Lizzie Stark. Okay, so I have mixed feelings about Lizzie. I liked her in Seasons One and Two, because she was this down-on-her-luck woman who was treated like crap by everyone, but she wasn’t wholly without her own flaws or personality - she did lie to John and Tommy did act in his brother’s best interests to tell him the truth. The scenes she had with Tommy in Season Two when he promotes her to his secretary were honestly very cute and my heart broke for her when that solider nearly (?) raped her in Season Two and she cried in John’s arms. But over time she’s started to irritate me. I know that people feel bad for her because Tommy honestly does treat her badly at times, though other times she’s also one of the few people he’s nice to, their relationship is complicated. But truthfully I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie every working out properly because Lizzie was a whore. She’s always been Tommy’s inferior and while I do think he cares for her, she never seems to think it’s enough. He doesn’t love her enough and she’s never satisfied with it and she’s always resentful of him. But you can’t FORCE someone to love you and it’s interesting that the minute she learned she was pregnant, you could see her thinking of how to make this work. She pulled the Baby Trap on him just like Grace did and got married like she wanted, but Tommy still doesn’t truly see her as his equal. And honestly, I don’t think she’s smart enough for him. Add that to Lizzie being EXTREMELY petty to other women (including her being really rude to May and slut-shaming her - bit rich from you, isn’t it, Lizzie?), and I don’t think they have a healthy relationship. I do like little Ruby a lot (way more than Charles, who is a spoiled brat because he’s Grace’s son and has a martyred dead mummy), but honestly I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie working out. I just hope that she doesn’t leave and take Ruby, I think it’d break Tommy to have his daughter taken away from him. - Alfie Solomons. So...I have to confess I have mixed feelings about Alfie. I liked him in Season Two because he’s batshit crazy, Tom Hardy is clearly having the time of his life and it’s refreshing to have a rival to Tommy who isn’t cartoonishly evil like Billy Kimber or Sabini. He ties into Season Two very well and yeah, I can see why he’s so popular. Also he’s pretty attractive, so that always helps. But. Alfie is starting to come across a bit like a creator’s pet to me. He consistently betrays Tommy every goddamn Season and while I know the fandom love to joke about this, it’s pretty inexplicable that Tommy would bother to continue to do business with him after being burned so many times and now it turns out he’s alive. Why? Why bring Alfie back? I feel like he was brought back because he’s a fan favourite and to add another suspect to who betrayed Tommy. I don’t hate Alfie at all, but I am starting to wish he’d face actual consequences for his actions, considering every Peaky Blinders character who fucks with the Peaky Blinders tend to suffer horribly for it, but not Alfie...for some reason. - Michael. Okay so Michael’s actor is pretty damn good and I thought it was cute that he and John’s actors are actually brother irl - you can see the resemblance. And honestly bringing back Polly’s missing kids was a really clever idea because there’s a family tie, but one that isn’t so strong you can always be sure of where his loyalties lie. His subplot with Father Hughes in Season Three was both very sad and very well done - I was cheering him on the whole way. But Season Five has made my opinion of Michael take a dramatic nosedive. He’s gone from sorta-sympathetic to an entitled brat almost overnight. I get he’s probably salty about being banished to America by Tommy in Season Four, but where has this sudden desire to rule the company come from? How did he meet Gina? Is he lying about Gina being pregnant because he figured it’d win him sympathy? I don’t know. He’s changed so drastically, and when Polly gave him that slap, I think she was doing what everyone wanted to. It’s too bad they just wrote Anna off as being dead, though, Michael having a sister and Polly a daughter would have been interesting. - The music?? Is so good?? I love it! Especially the themesong, obviously, but so much of it is always ON POINT. It makes me wanna buy the entire soundtrack. - Unpopular opinion, but I think Campbell was the best antagonist of the show, mainly because he was a vile person but still believable and had the best dynamic with Tommy. - Season Five was honestly kind of hit-and-miss for me, it seemed like a lot of people are pissed at Tommy for fairly silly reasons in the beginning and I just didn’t find the political subplot all that interesting...but I still will definitely tune into Season Six. (Also these are all just opinions, so please don’t send me hate if you don’t like something I’ve said. Ain’t nobody got time for that.)

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Arthur Shelby #John Shelby #Ada Shelby #Polly Gray #Michael Gray #Esme Shelby #Grace Burgess #May Carleton #Lizzie Stark #Alfie Solomons #Chester Campbell #Blogging #Thoughts

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eunahfmdarchive · 4 years

Text

popo (how deep is our love?) - partial lyrics & partial composition credit. date: sometime in mid july. word count: 806, not including one (1) line of lyrics. mentions of eunah’s now npc ex, but at this time they were still dating. this is kinda bad and is pure freeform stream of consciousness almost because i’m!! just trying to get these done! holy shit why did i leave these so late!! but also yeah it’s bad, but i still like it kind of so good for me, i guess.

writing love songs facilitates a different sort of catharsis than writing sad songs does, but eunah is beginning to think that it’s just as valuable. she feels a lot, and to be honest, if she always told him everything that she thinks about him, she’d just end up making a fool of herself or coming on too strong. her fingers pause on the piano keys. if this song ever sees the light of day, maybe he’ll hear it and think she’s too much anyways.

in that case, she can blame the co-writers she’s been working with for the album.

eunah feels that by now, she’s solidified herself enough to take a bit of a risk on her new album, and to have one of the songs be completely in english. she hasn’t written lyrics in english since she released let me in last year. although she’s ultimately pleased with how they turn out, she does think that you can tell she’s a little out of practice, with some of the metaphors turning out on the long winded side. at the same time, eunah feels like that benefits the song’s message and themes. it’s soft, and it’s open, maybe too open, but there’s something heartwarming and sincere about it when she reads them back.

plenty of the songs she’s written have ended up as love songs, usually beginning as something much less romantic and much more personal to eunah herself, before being twisted that way by herself at a later date, or by dimensions’ hired writers or by the vibe provided by the production teams. she doesn’t mind that. she understands that most people would prefer to listen to a love song than to the therapeutic ramblings of an insecure young woman, and at the end of the day, she has to take what she gets from the company. as successful as her solo career has been, dimensions could decide to take it away from her at any point. it’s no harm, then, that she uses her real romantic feelings in her song writing process. it makes sense, even if, at the same time, it makes eunah feel more vulnerable than usual.

everything that she has written down in front of her is true, and honest, to an extent that she’s not used to letting people see. usually, she would be almost cryptic about a song’s real message, but here, her feelings are plain for anyone to read, for any listener to hear. for a moment, she considers tearing the pages out of her notebook, never to be seen by anyone, but she doesn’t. growth and change are uncomfortable by their very nature. eunah wants to keep growing. she wants to keep changing.

working more on the melody of the song helps calm eunah down. she wants to experiment with different sounds on the album, but she doesn’t want to completely stray away from the sound she’s established for herself over the past year and a half. it wouldn’t be wise. especially the lyrics for this song - thus far named popo in commemoration of their first kiss, a brief brushing of their lips by the water - are something different, both in language and in feeling, eunah thinks that the final product needs to have her typical vibe. ultimately, eunah doesn’t have the final say on what tracks get on the album, and she wants this song to be chosen from the submissions, even if it scares her. no, especially because it scares her. she’s doing a lot of things that scare her recently, things she never thought she would do in a million years. why should this be any different?

she’s worried that maybe the tune she’s slowly pulling from her piano keys might perhaps sound too somber, or that maybe she’s just overthinking it. it sounds nice, and matches the lyrics well, which is what she thinks matters most. singing with it gets rid of any of the downbeat vibes she was worried about. rather than sad, it sounds wistful, like the kind of song she’d listen to to remember better days. her stomach does a flip. why should she be feeling wistful over something that’s still in her life? eunah frowns at her keys, paranoid that she’s creating a bad omen for her relationship. the thought is only there for a moment, a shadow cast over her mind, gone again in the blink of an eye.

but that’s all it is. a brief lapse in her sensibilities. if something happens, and if they do break up, it won’t be because she accidentally turned her love song into a song to listen to while reminiscing on fond memories. she rereads the lyrics, and still plagued by the lingering idea of her relationship’s fate, eunah underlines one line that stands out, eerily among the others: how deep is our love?

#fmdverification #* / 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ⇨ self para !

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

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17 or 48, both together, or just one, or whatever you want if they haven't already been requested, NSFW I guess if you don't have any problem with it. I wanted to add, in honor of Tom wearing glasses: for some reason, any silly reason or plot device you need, that makes Peter have to wear glasses, and MJ freaks out about it finding she's especially very attracted to him wearing glasses. You're super awesome btw!!!!

Thank you so much for these requests, Anons! As 48 and 17 were requested together more than once, I have included both prompts in this fic. And it’s NSFW (if you’re a perv, I’m a perv, Anon #3). And Peter wears glasses (feel free to determine the level of silliness of my reasoning for them, Anon #1 haha). Extra thanks to you, Anon #1, for your kind words! Hope you all enjoy!

This Spa Day Provided to You by Stark IndustriesPairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 3752

17. “I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

48. “If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.”

Peter sighed into the phone.

“When I said the decathlon team really needs to relax beforeour next competition, that was just me complaining! I wasn’t asking you tospend money on us!”

“Yes, but that’s the beauty of being Tony Stark’s favouriteintern―”

“―only intern,” Peter mumbled.

“―I solve your problems before you even realize they needsolving.”

“I did realize,”he argued, flinging himself down onto his bed.

“And you weren’t going to do anything about it besidescomplain? That’s not very ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ of you, kid.”

“I… had some thoughts,” Peter said defensively.

“Such as?”

“Puppy room?”

“Like you rent puppies to help your pals cope with pre-competitionstress, is that the definition of ‘puppy room’ we’re working from?” Mr. Starkchecked. “Meaning you have puppies brought into your school, meaning you exposethose halls of learning to the evils of… what’s it called? Pet dander! Becausethere’s always one kid, Pete, always that one kid who’s allergic to puppies andspoils things for everyone else. And then, gee, it’s not the puppy’s fault, butnow there’s sneezing and itching and throats swelling shut, an ambulance iscalled to cart poor Timmy off to the hospital, and in the meantime, the puppieshave peed and ralphed all over the floor, thereby causing more stress than whatexisted to begin with! Then, of course, you’re blamed for the whole thingbecause it was your idea, probably kicked off the team, definitely sociallyostracized, and always left wondering, ‘Was it worth it?’”

There was a long pause.

“What happens to Timmy?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, they couldn’t save him. Anyway, doesn’t a spa day soundmore peaceful than all that?”

“Only because you turned the puppy room into some kind ofhorror movie epidemic.”

“It was a rhetorical question, since the obvious answer,”Mr. Stark informed him, “is a simple ‘yes.’ By the way, why am I having to sellthis to you so hard when I’m the one who paid for it?”

“That one’s gotta be rhetorical,” Peter said, but his mentorhad already hung up.

“So, there’s, like, a sauna, a pool and hot tubs, or you canget a massage, or―”

“Living in a luxurious, fluffy spa robe for a day isbasically my dream,” Ned declared, interrupting Peter.

With a glance around the room, Peter saw that most of histeammates seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Ned, expressionssmiling and full of relief. Most of them. MJ was frowning.

“Have we done research on this place?” she asked. “When wasits last health inspection? How regularly do they test the chemical compositionof the pool water? Have there been any reported cases of―”

“It’s fine,” Peter assured her. “Mr. Stark goes there allthe time. Actually, I think he might own it…”

“And there’s never been a negligent billionaire businessowner with his fingers in so many pies that he lets standards slip at one ofhis investments,” MJ replied sarcastically.

He didn’t know where to start grappling with that, but hismouth hung open, waiting for his brain to fill it with an intelligent yetsensitive response.

“Yeah, but, MJ―” Flash jumped in.

“Michelle to you,” she corrected flatly.

“―free massages!” He raised his eyebrows like she was anidiot for having any misgivings in the face of complimentary spa treatments.

MJ rolled her eyes.

“Fine, we can focus on that, in which case, I have questionsabout the staff’s training, techniques―”

“Are you serious?” Peter said, accidentally out loud. Dumbquestion; his girlfriend was always serious.

She gave him a fixed stare.

“I’d like the person who massages me to know what they’redoing. If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worthmy time.”

He felt the heat seeping up his neck into his face.

“I don’t want… N-notme personally…”

“I’ll do some research before we go,” Betty cheerfullyvolunteered. Peter smiled gratefully at her as she turned to face MJ, uncappingher pen and holding it poised over a pad of paper. “What were your concernsagain?”

“Happy thoughts,” Ned instructed as Peter cradled hisforehead in his hand, rattled. “Fluffy, fluffy robes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tone striving for levity. “Robes. Right.”

What he was really thinking about was how much trouble hewas in. If MJ was this brazen in front of their friends, how was he supposed tohang out with her at the spa? Sure, they’d found enough opportunities sincethey’d started dating to make it to second base, but actually seeing her in abathing suit was a whole different thing! The robes were Ned’s idea of acalming thought, but what did people wear underneath them? Nothing! Picturinghim and MJ in matching robes was therefore not a very calming thought.

This spa day was going to kill him.

“What’s next on your itinerary?” Peter asked distractedly,leaning against one of the large lockers in the men’s changing room. It wasuncanny, being in a room full of lockers without even the faintest odour offoot sweat―this spa was a distinct step up from the locker room at school.

“Couples facial with Betty,” Ned replied happily.

Peter frowned.

“That’s a thing?”

“Yes, Peter,” Ned sighed, exasperated. “Maybe you should’vespent your time doing a more thorough scan of the veritable smorgasbord oftreatments instead of concentrating on avoiding MJ.”

Peter jerked away from the locker.

“What? Avoiding her?” He shifted his feet.

Ned sighed again.

“You can’t hide in the changing room all day.”

“I haven’t been!”

“Every time I come back here to get my water or change into swimtrunks, you’re here.”

“We’re obviously very in sync,” Peter insisted. “And I wasjust leaving.”

Ned folded his arms and stared his best friend down.

“Uh huh.”

“I am! I’m going… swimming.”

“With your shoes on,” Ned checked, glancing down to Peter’ssneakers.

“I don’t want to contract a foot fungus. Better safe thansorry.”

“Can you even get a foot fungus?” Ned asked, lowering hisvoice and leaning closer for increased discretion. “Wouldn’t yoursuper-spider-ness protect you from something like that? Wouldn’t seem right ifyou could avoid supernatural attacks only to be felled by a foot fungus. Orwould it―”

“Bye, Ned,” Peter interrupted, and exited the room.

He did actually have his bathing suit on underneath therobe―Ned had been adamant about the robe-wearing―so he might as well headtowards the pool. Following the scent of chlorine, Peter turned down a quiethallway, lined with doors on both sides.

He could swim for hours if he had to. Just until―oh man, hewas totally avoiding MJ. He’d only seen her for about two seconds today afterthey’d arrived. Being gifted a spa day by Iron Man wasn’t the same as astandard field trip, so the team had had to make their own way here. (Peterwasn’t going to remind Mr. Stark that he’d blanked on providing transportationin luxury cars; Pepper would take care of that.) Too chicken to even sit nextto his girlfriend in the back seat of a car, Peter had waited until Abe offeredto pick up Flash, Cindy, and MJ before assuring a few of the others that hisaunt would be happy to give rides as well. This was pathetic.

Peter went to brush his hair back anxiously and bumped thecorner of his glasses, unused to them. Disoriented, he stopped walking tosettle them back into their proper position on his face. His arms tingled as helowered his hands and Peter became tense and alert. Quickly glancing around, henoticed that the door at the end of the hall was ajar. He flattened his back tothe wall and crept hurriedly and silently towards it.

The hairs on his arms were completely standing up once hewas right outside the door, so Peter pushed it open and darted inside, shiftingto a defensive posture and pulling the door closed behind him―one less escaperoute for whoever or whatever was in here with him. Besides the soothing soundtrackof wind chimes by the ocean.

Beyond the massage table dominating the space, a door at therear of the room opened and out stepped MJ, head down, tying a robe identicalto Peter’s. It was suddenly difficult to swallow.

She looked up and gasped, then sighed, hand to her chest.

“What the hell, Peter?”

“S-sorry,” he blurted, straightening up. “I thought… therewas something…”

Peter studied his arms, confused. He’d believed that extraSpidey sense was just, like, a space donut alert system. Now it was an MJfinder? He guessed he had been thinking about her a lot lately. Possibly, theconscious fixation plus theunconscious longing that had her appearing in his dreams most nights hadtriggered some kind of biological recalibration, thereby setting the sense toprepare for hormones instead of intergalactic battle. The potential science ofit was pretty cool and Peter tried to think about that in order to maintain hisrapidly failing composure.

MJ flipped her trapped hair out of the neck of her robe. Holyshit.

“I’m still not used to the glasses,” she said, approachinghim and sounding enviably calm. “Are you self-conscious about them? Is that whyI’ve barely seen you today?”

“No, I’m not… I’m not self-conscious,” he choked out.Clearing his throat, he continued. This was a safe topic which would aid him withnot stare at her legs below the hem of the knee-length robe. “They help my eyesrelax. Dampen stimuli. Kinda like those old black goggles I had. The ones Ishowed you―”

“―when we were in your bedroom.”

Abort. That was not a neutral memory. He revisited it―ohboy, did he revisit it―but only in private, in bed at night. Sometimes in theshower. His pulse pounded unmistakeably in his groin.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed weakly. “Then.”

“I like the glasses.”

“You do?”

MJ stopped in front of him and Peter imagined the feel ofher robe’s tie in his hand as he pulled it free of the loops. It was so easy topicture.

“Mhmm, you look… They just make you look more…”

Peter caught her eye and noticed something. She wasflustered. While MJ searched for whatever she wanted to say, she shoved her handsinto the pockets of her robe; it strained the tie, slackening the fold offabric across her body to expose a larger V of her neck and chest. Petergestured awkwardly at the bared skin, then reached out, intending to fix it forher. (The swelling in his swim trunks pleaded for him to yank the materialapart.) Her hand collided with his as she went to do the same thing.

“…sexy,” MJ concluded.

Peter’s fingers slid across her skin until his palm was flaton her chest, then he brought his other hand to the back of her neck and kissedher. They held each other with shaky hands, nervous and giddy. Everything withher was still brand new. Internally, Peter felt like he was inside one of thosepaint can agitators at the hardware store―the kind that he’d seen when May hadpicked a new colour for the kitchen and dragged him along to pack-mule the cansto and from the car―but his lips were becoming more certain against MJ’s. Andhis dick was really committing to this erection, thickening with every passingsecond.

Peter was getting lost, unable to tell how theirclosed-mouth kiss had opened up to allow their tongues to meet and tangle. MJmoaned softly and he wrapped both arms around her with urgency. He wondered ifhis glasses were fogging up, like the windows in steamy movie scenes; he didn’topen his eyes to check.

Touching his face in a way that felt more profoundlyintimate than what seemed possible for the length of their relationship so far,she pressed her body closer. Oh god. Snatching a shallow breath between kisses,Peter let his hand tumble from her neck, sweeping unevenly across the plushstretch of her robe and resting on the small of her back. He didn’t push her―wouldn’t push her―just braced herlightly as his hips rolled forward. MJ gasped, tenderly tracing his earlobewith a fingertip.

Peter tilted his head forward until his forehead and hersseemed to support each other. He listened to his thumping heart, a steady bassto balance those tinkling wind chime noises. The natural ambiance of MJ’sragged breathing was magical. But everything was moving so fast. They weren’tsupposed to get this! A parental figure should have been interrupting rightabout now, or a ringing phone. A pizza delivery guy maybe.

Uncertainly, Peter took a step back, hands still on MJ’swaist. She wrapped hers around his and he opened his eyes to see her face.

“Stark booked this whole place for us, right?”

Oh, they were talking about Mr. Stark now. Peter was thrownby his girlfriend’s lack of transition. She always did like to get to thepoint, not waste words. He jiggled the corner of his glasses.

“Yeah…?”

“All day?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered with more conviction, focusing now.

“Well, then there’s no one else coming to use this room,”she informed him. “I went through the team’s treatment schedules myself.”

Just when he’d thought he was getting the gist of thisconversation.

“You’re saying…”

“I’m saying I really like the glasses.”

Yeah, her eyes were saying a lot more than that. What wasgoing on in there was much easier for Peter to follow. Like the absoluteawareness while MJ let go of his hand to draw her wavy hair forward over oneshoulder; she knew what she was doing to him. Were spa robes any good atconcealing erections? He was curious.

To give himself a second of clear thinking (which in itselfmight be wishful thinking), Peter released her waist, arms hanging at hissides.

“Are you sure?” he checked.

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth had flickedup.

“I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

Rather than going to her, Peter took a deep breath andbrought her to him, guiding MJ by her hips. Before he could kiss her, she put ahand to his chest.

“Just for now,” she assured him, and plucked his glassesfrom his face.

Folding the legs in carefully, MJ set them on a counter nextto an orderly line of jars. All Peter could think about was being able to kissher more roughly without worrying about his glasses getting in the way; hedecided to make a move based on the likeliness of her thinking the same thing. Hecupped her face, touching his mouth lightly to hers only momentarily, thendiving in with a firmer pressure.

There wasn’t a clear path in his mind, but he directed MJanyway, steering her by the hand on her hip while they kissed, until the solidspa table halted them. Her lips parted as though the minor impact had sent ashockwave through her body and Peter stepped right into her space, tongueteasing the inside of her lip. Incredibly (to him), his hips weren’t shyagainst hers, pressing flush, as much as the thickness of theirever-more-irritating robes would allow.

His eyelashes fluttered on her cheek as he barely opened hiseyes.

“Did they massage you?” Peter asked quietly. The room wasvery still. Seemed like the wind chimes must have run out of breeze.

MJ’s legs shifted against his, thighs parting provocatively.

“Not everywhere.”

With a groan, he squeezed her hips, not really helping asshe perched, then wiggled onto the table. MJ continued spreading her legs soPeter could come closer and his hands skipped down to her thighs, smoothing upher skin as the fabric drew apart. He almost forgot about kissing, gaze slidingdown her body, but MJ grabbed his jaw and leaned forward, initiating somethingfiery. It made his hips jerk ahead and his fingers clenched on her legs. MJ’sother hand found the tie of his robe and quickly worked past that barrier, thenthe next―which was the tie on his swim shorts. Peter inhaled a rapid doublegasp, experiencing the wonder of her hand wrapping tentatively around hiserection. More securely after his slow moan.

He broke away from the kiss, nosing languidly below her jawand down her neck as he pushed his hands to her hips. Hypothesis confirmed: peopledid not wear anything beneath those robes. Or at least MJ didn’t. Peter shapedhis hands to the front of her hips, thumbs settling into the warm crease at thetop of her thighs where the band of her underwear would’ve been. She wasstroking him now, stoking his own heat with the warmth of her palm, and he lethis thumbs descend until he could feel her pulse thumping resolutely. By then,his hands were between her legs, covering everything but the place he waslonging to touch; Peter skated one thumb towards the middle and it was slickedwith her arousal.

MJ was breathing heavily, nudging herself against his hand,so he rotated his wrist and slipped his fingers along the track of her wetness.She shuddered, rolling her fingers against his length. Peter gave her throat awet kiss. When she tilted her hips, lifting them slightly like she wassearching for something, he made sure they came back down on his fingers,easing one inside her.

“Peter,” she said,fast and sharp, and jerked her hips forward with the same desperate haste.

He released MJ’s hip with his other hand to reach into hisswim suit and tighten her grip around him, his hand over hers. Then, Petercurled the finger he had inside her, probing gently as he got his bearings.Cautiously, darting a look up at her face, he added a second finger. She made asoft, contented sound and rocked so that his fingers sunk deeper. Peter’s hipsbucked reflexively and she gave him a short pump, his hand tense on the back ofhers.

Wetting his lip with his tongue in concentration, he hookedhis fingers more insistently, tapping her taut front wall. MJ groaned, tooloose to produce an “oh.” Peter dug in, repeating the motion she’d enjoyed, andpushed his thumb against her clit. A hissing, sucked in breath from hisgirlfriend had him feeling tingly all over―seriously, his super-senses weregoing to be even more goofed up after this. Something in him had realigned,attuning him to MJ.

He worked his fingers faster, moving with her when shecouldn’t sit still. Actually, Peter started to worry that MJ was going to falloff the massage table because she kept scooting forward, so he encouraged herto lie down, gasping as her hand disengaged from his dick. Watching hisgirlfriend on her back, he forgot about missing her grasp; her neck arched whenhe rubbed her clit in a circle and every time he thrust his fingers intoher―sneaking a look to witness them emerging glossy―she thrust the opposite wayto take them, slackening the wrap of the robe until its V stretched nearly toher waist.

Peter was fantasizing about crawling on top of MJ (only fantasizing for now because theyhadn’t really talk about that yet and he certainly didn’t have a condom at theready in the fluffy depths of his spa robe’s pocket), yearning to drag hisfingers out and plunge his cock in. He was grinning, hot and hazy in his dirtydaydream, fingers wrapped around himself while he continued to, well, massageher. The word would never be the same for him.

“Mmm, god,” shesaid, legs twitching where they hung off the edge of the table.

Hearing himself faintly echoing her less distinct butequally impassioned noises, Peter was almost living her pleasure. He kneadedher clit, bent and scooped his fingers frantically within her. MJ came with anextended moan, muffled because she pressed her lips shut, and Peter swallowedthickly like he was consuming the sound.

He removed one hand from his trunks (erection still throbbing),the other from his girlfriend’s body. Panting, Peter retied the string (wipinghis fingers on his bathing suit while he was at it), then the wider band of hisrobe, not taking his eyes off her. Body limp, MJ ran a hand across her face. Hewas mesmerized just watching her breathe.

“Help me up,” she said, voice thick and altered.

She pulled the robe closed and reached out her hands forhis, which Peter eagerly provided. Their eyes met with a sly shyness once theirfaces were level. After a minute, MJ rolled her eyes and grabbed Peter’s neck, bringinghim into a kiss. She sighed against his cheek when they leaned apart.

“You wanna trade places?” she asked as she lifted her head.Her hand went to his robe’s tie, giving a gentle tug.

Peter laughed, heart beating hard.

“Yeah, I really wantto, but Ned’s going to expect to see me at the pool after his facial.”

MJ frowned and her playfully disappointed eyes made him wantto stay that much more. Glancing at her watch―the only thing she wore, besidesthe robe―she shrugged.

“I have to meet Cindy for pedicures anyway.” They exchangedwistful smiles. He couldn’t make himself turn away, let alone walk to the door.“I’m good, Peter,” MJ said. “You should sneak out of here first. Lesssuspicious that way.”

He hesitated another few seconds, then stepped back with anod.

“Ok, but I’ll see you later. Promise,” he added when sheraised doubtful eyebrows.

Peter grabbed his glasses from the counter and put them on,comfortably dampening his vision. He glanced back at MJ on his way to the door.

“Seriously, dork, get out of here,” she urged. “Thoseglasses are testing my restraint.”

Face turning pink, Peter shot her a smile and crept warilyinto the hallway. He closed the door quietly behind him, glancing back andforth as he adjusted the overlapping fabric in front of his hips.

“Hope the pool’s cold,” Peter muttered, heading there forthe second time and wondering how many laps it was going to take to put himselfback in control of his own body.

Assuming that was possible.

Well, it was another hypothesis to test.

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vanaera · 6 years

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15. Things you said with too many miles between us (online friend!namjoon + idol!you)

Summary | In which Namjoon has beaten stress, pressure, and also time differences with you by his side but he has yet to beat to know that whom he's talking to through the screen of his phone is the same person he fawns on TV screens along with millions of other people.

Genre | Fluff + Super slight angst

Wordcount | 3, 193

Sequel : Missed Calls

Light suddenly illuminates the pitch black room and it shines against every curve and ridge of Namjoon's face, pricking his eyes to open as he blindly reaches for his glasses.

Once finding his bedroom clear through the lenses, he grabs his phone which alerted him of a new notification.

1 New Message!

SunnyY/N 1:32 AM

Hi! I just finished watching Predestination and holy shit how dare you rec me something so mindfucking??!!

Namjoon types lethargically with a smile hanging on his lips.

MonJoon 1:33 AM

Glad you found the movie compelling though it's 1:33 AM here in the fucking morning, I've got AP exams later, and you woke me up just to say that?

SunnyY/N 1:33 AM

I'm sorry oh my gosh I thought you were awake! God, I didn't think of the time difference! Okay okay, go to sleep now.

MonJoon 1:33 AM

It's alright, I’m having trouble sleeping lately anyway. Where are you currently?

SunnyY/N 1:33 AM

I'm in Italy now though I haven't find anytime yet to travel around :((( Anyhow, go to sleep now! You need that sleep to defeat those tests later!

Namjoon raises his brow. It must be nice to travel around different parts of the world because of your parent's work. The constant jetlags may be troublesome but he'd rather have that than take on a pile of homeworks and exams he doesn't even need for his major.

MonJoon 1:34 AM

Okay, stay safe there. Good nytie night!

SunnyY/N 1:35 AM

Nyt Nyt!!! :DDD

Around six o'clock, Namjoon wakes up to the blaring noise of his alarm clock and another notification.

SunnyY/N 6:01 AM

I hope you have a nice day and good luck on your exams! Fighting!!!! 🙆🙆🙆 ( P.S. : I computed the time difference, credits to Mr. Google and I figured you'll be awake now :)))) )

A grin spreads on Namjoon's face as he ruffles his bed hair and heads to his bathroom. He's got enough of good luck now to tackle on anything that will get on his nerves.

The day passes and so do his three exams with Namjoon fortunately being still alive. He feels he should ask you to wish him luck everyday because God knows how his luck hasn't worn off yet today. And just like every hard work he gets done, he thinks his reward just came with a "ding!" and a Twitter update.

Y/N Official™ 7:20 PM

Y/N models new collection of Flyday "Missantrophies"!

Namjoon has never tapped so fast in his life only to see pure beauty before him. Y/N wore frilly dresses painted with classical paintings his art major friend, Jeongguk, studies that made her look like an artwork instead while she daintily posed around some museum in Rome he knows he'll never have a chance to go to anytime soon. The pictures were breathtaking but what made his heart almost combust was the behind the scene shoots with her barely there make-up and a bright grin on her tired form as she hugs a huge teddy bear by her side.

Too cute, too cute, too cute, gosh Namjoon wants to know how to become that teddybear now.

Namjoon taps on the Send Me icon and immediately taps the image with your username.

MonJoon 7:20 PM

HAVE YOU SEEN THE RECENT FLYDAY PHOTOSHOOT???!!! Y/N LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE ART

- see 10 photos

SunnyY/N 7:21 AM

Yes hoe, but look at this babe

-see 1 photo

Namjoon opens the pic to see Y/N lazily looking at her self-camera with tired eyes and bare face that looks like the meme "I don't fucking care anymore". He laughs with his heart squeezing with affection. He's always a sucker for pictures of Y/N looking like everyday college students. But wait -

MonJoon 7:22 PM

She looks so cute!!!! Btw how did you get this pic???? I haven't seen it on her social media accounts yet. Tell me how??????

SunnyY/N 7:22 PM

I have my ways 😏😏😏 Let's just say I'm really resourceful :DDD

MonJoon 7:23 PM

Meanie

"You're chatting with your online girlfriend again?"

Namjoon raises his head to be met with his roommate (and friend, though he wants to regret such title sometimes) Seokjin's teasing smirk accompanied by a click of the door. He just came home and the first thing he does is suggest that out-of-nowhere-conclusion he kept bringing up. "Uhh yes, online girl-space-friend, not girlfriend," he corrects before he lets his fingers fly across the screen of his phone.

MonJoon 7:30 PM

How are things going around you by the way? Just finished this hellday and I wanna say I think I passed them but I think I'm gonna jinx myself so I'd rather not.

SunnyY/N 7:31 PM

You're not gonna jinx yourself! Just think positive! I know you're smart 😎😎😎 so of course you're gonna pass!!! I'm okay though I'm deadly tired. Been through another flight and now I'm in Sweden.

MonJoon 7:32 PM

So soon?! You're in Italy just like a few hours ago and you haven't traveled around yet!!!! You're missing opportunities, hoe!!

Namjoon thinks you're hella insane going from one country to another without even staying for a while to travel.

SunnyY/N 7:32 PM

I'm really sad too 😥😥😥 but can't blame my parents for deciding to go from one country to another. Oh I got drunk earlier and fortunately I didn't accidentally open another account in some social media platform. I've already got too many shits, don't need to let the whole world know I'm such an embarrassing person ahahahha

Namjoon chuckles and he could hear Seokjin yell "There you go again laughing like a lovesick fool. Stop denying she's so your online girlfriend!" over the kitchen but he didn't mind that at all when he remembers the first time he knew you was through the same odd antic you do when you're drunk.

It was two years ago around some November midnight when Aym a BaBe suddenly messaged him on Send Me with "I'm really sad, can i take up this space for a while?"

Namjoon was used to receiving shady or nonsense flirty messages from questionable usernames, not to say he automatically deletes messages from people he have never heard of at all. But that night was an exception since it was also the first time he saw someone's pain without even looking at their face.

Just like what you said, you then filled up the convo space with "I'm just really sad right now" and "I can't even let out my true feelings at all to the people around me," and lastly how you admired his courage for posting the only post that got over 100 notes in his entire Tumblr life defending female solo artist Y/N.

Y/N, the apple of Namjoon's eyes and his wife-to-be in his own dreamlamd started from scratch and slowly built her career in the music industry with her navy blue guitar and songs about broken glasses and misplaced loves. Namjoon thinks she could have already taken over the world with her now inactive small Youtube account Y/N sings with her original songs about sex, love, and drugs - things usually sung by men artists and topics that were avoided by females in fear of being silenced and judged by a misogynist world.

Though her fame only started with break up songs as she delved into TV and radio shows that prevented her from trying bold moves such as her compositions in her Youtube career, Y/N still writes and sings her heart out and Namjoon cheered for her continuous success.

Around one year later, her upbeat breakup single Go F*ck Yourself gained worldwide popularity that made her voice be known on all ears. That's why yesterday, when news broke out about Y/N's new album No More You was about the trifecta that killed every other female artists' career in such a traditional industry, all hell broke lose over the net.

A couple of "You're promoting bad things with your song," "You're trying too hard," and unnecessarily mean "You're so ugly, try getting a plastic surgery maybe you'll be more tolerable in every viewer's eyes," Namjoon just have to type down a massive text post about such cyber harassment and downright misogyny and inhumane comments against a person who wanted to convey the reality of other people now that her voice can be heard by all over the world.

You suddenly appeared then with a weird username in that one'o clock haze. Namjoon let you rant out your complaints on the convo space, read each message you sent without replying because not everyone needs advice, just someone who can listen to them. When Namjoon checks his inbox some day later, he found that you changed your username to SunnyY/N like every other fan who uses their idol's name on their username but there's something about yours that drove him to know you more. Maybe it's because he wouldn't associate 'sunny' to Y/N unless she's smiling so wide - he wasn't really sure. And just like that, he formed a stable communication with someone he calls "Sun" whose face he hasn't seen yet over a two year course of friendship that is still staying strong now.

MonJoon 7:35 PM

Good for you that you didn't start up another account. Why are you drunk anyway?

SunnyY/N 7:38 PM

Nothing, just sad. Not a big deal. It's 1 AM here btw, I gotta go. Nytie nyt!

Namjoon can sense you didn't want to talk about it so he sends his good nights too before going to the table for dinner. After getting his homeworks done, he counts time differences and sets another alarm aside from his morning call.

Around seven, you wake up with the hundredth notification on your phone but the latest one is what only mattered.

MonJoon 7:01 AM

Good morning! I hope you have a great day. Stay safe, hoe :)

In the middle of writing an essay about the fundamentals of quantum physics, Namjoon's My Only Friend ringtone makes the man jump on his seat, pen almost flying from his grasp. In his defense, Y/N's MOF is the best of her recent album, Friends & Foes, and it's made him feel so much anyway-

Namjoon swipes the green button. "What is it, Jimin?"

"Hey have you seen the announcement of Y/N's concert tour?" Jimin rattles, "Man, the ticket prices are up and I swear to God I have to sell at least one kidney to get the VIP seats and -"

Jimin's rambling turns into white noise as Namjoon hesitates. He's in the middle of doing tons of essays and shit, he's gonna get distracted again with Y/N's face. He already promised himself to tone down his “stanning” a little and just - fuck it. His hands are already pounding against his keyboard, the tab he opened for his references already in the back of his mind as he clicks the news of your new concert. When it comes to Y/N, he easily pushes away his priorities and God, it's just so stupid but still -

Y/N Official™ 10:50 PM

Y/N Sun + Moon Tour ticket prices are up! Concert dates in other countries will be further announced.

Namjoon scrolls down and sees listings of dates in California, New York, Los Angeles, yadah yadah, Italy, and Sweden - wait.

He mumbles a "Gonna get back to you Chim, I'm busy right now" through the phone, ends the call, and goes to Send Me to tap your icon.

1 Unread Message!

Oh right, he hasn't opened Send Me the past few days because he and Seokjin forgot to pay their net bills. Shocks, you must have been pissed off he hadn't replied you yet.

However, he didn't expect to read something aside from your memes or your whereabouts and concern for his.

SunnyY/N 1:20 AM

Hi Joon, I'm gonna be inactive for a while but I think i can send a few somethings whenever I can. Just send me anything you want, complain about school and friends, fanboy over Y/N or whatever, I'm gonna reply to that once I can. Hope you have a wonderful day! :DDD

MonJoon 11:00 PM

Hi Sun, sorry I only read your message now. Jin and i forgot to pay bills on time again so yeah. Btw, Y/N's gonna go there in Sweden on July 5 and I hope you can come there! Send me pics if you can! Stay safe hoe and enjoy travelling around!

Namjoon closes his phone as well as his previous tabs aside from his references and leans on his chair. When you've both started opening up to each other online, you mentioned that once a year you're gonna be hella busy with your folks to the point you barely have time for goofing around the net. It sounded weird but he didn't question you about it and typed "gotta detach yourself away from your phone somehow someday. I’m like that too when finals come hahahahha.", afraid he'll sound prying.

After two years of hanging around and being fond of you, he can't help but be constantly curious of what you're actually doing. You're born in the same year as him (though you're only two months older than him) and you've been travelling around the world with your parents while Namjoon's stuck in college with a Philosophy degree and hating every other subject that has nothing to do with making music. You're sick rich and you have your own studio at home (you showed him a pic) because technically you enjoy music too while he's almost dying with the constant tutoring sessions he have with other kids just so he can save up for his Mon Studio-to-be.

He wonders how he can connect with you so well when you've never had a common ground in your lives aside from liking music and also Y/N. What it would be like if you are a normal college student like him? Are you really small like you say? What will you probably major in? You'll pass out if you had the same schedule as him, Namjoon snorts. He'll probably be that friend who'll constantly check up on you, and you'll probably smile so wide, and maybe your eyes would turn into tiny curves like crescent moons. You haven't sent him a selca yet but he thinks you'll be pretty.

Namjoon sighs. He wants to meet you so badly.

September comes and Namjoon counted 23 small candles his friends stuck in the cake Seokjin made. His friends told him to make a wish first but he didn't really have anything that came to his mind. Yeah, maybe he wishes for everyone's health and happiness - he could do with that, and then he blows the candles along with the worries of the past year.

When the party died down and Yoongi and the rest of the squad bid them goodbyes, Namjoon finds himself slumped against his chair, tired of cleaning all the confetti from party poppers and the piñata Hoseok brought from god knows where.

He opens his phone and scrolls through his Twitter feed for any updates on Y/N's tour and just then a Send Me notif pops out and he smiles. He never managed to beat through coincidence to be online the same time as you do so he settled for unread messages and leaving messages for the past month as well as sending each other pictures of what you've been doing at the meantime. These kept a smile on his face but he knew right then it would never beat the grin he has now he's got to finally talk with you again.

SunnyY/N 1:01 AM

Happy Birthday, Joon! 😆😆😄

🍕🍕🍕🍟🍟🍟🍔🍔🍔🍲🍲🍲🎂🎂🎂🍰🍰🍰🍦🍦🍦🍫🍫🍫

Hope you ate a lot!

MonJoon 1:01 AM

Thanks! and yes i ate a lot! Seokjin's food is ever 👌👌👌 And oh my god, you're finally online! I miss my hoe!

SunnyY/N 1:02 AM

Yes, some things came up but i'm gonna be fine now. Hey, I'm coming back home in Korea this September and holy gosh Y/N will also hold her concert the same month here! Go come, I will be there and we can finally meet up!!! (I won't be free until after the 26th anyway and i want to meet you so bad now that we're gonna be in the same country!!!!)

Namjoon's heart thunders. You've never suggested a meet-up before since you told him six months ago you're not yet okay showing yourself to him when it happened that you stayed in Korea and he requested to meet you. However, the small pain in his heart whenever he has to type this cannot be drowned by its overwhelmingly rapid beating.

MonJoon 1:03 AM

Sadly I can't :(

SunnyY/N:1:03 AM

Hey why? I can buy you the VIP tickets if you're feeling a little burdened with the price. I just want to have my main hoe with me

MonJoon 1:03 AM

Thanks for the offer but my finals just have to be scheduled the same day as her concert and guhhh, I don't even want you to spend so much on me. But god, you don't know how happy you made me when you finally agreed to meet up; I just wanna hug you irl!!!! I'm so excited to finally see you, This must be the best birthday present anyone has gave me, hoe!

SunnyY/N 1:04 AM

But I can't wait that long, what if I say I want to meet you now?

What?

SunnyY/N is requesting for a video call. Accept? Decline?

Namjoon's brows furrow; you told him before you don't want video calls and now you're doing this? It's confusing but Namjoon clicks on Accept anyway because he doesn't have it in his heart to decline your requests.

The image of a room and a yellow-hoodied-figure fills his screen. Namjoon can see a bottle on the far corner of your room and before he can scold you for drinking your problems away, a very familiar voice fills his ears and makes him stuck frozen in his chair.

"I've been feeling sad lately and I tried to get off my phone for the past months but I can't do that now," you sniff, "It's your birthday, I have to greet you. And I know sober me won't do that so I got drunk just to have enough liquid courage to wish you a happy birthday and that I want to meet you."

Namjoon blinks his eyes twice, this must be a fucking dream - why is he seeing Y/N's bare face and hearing her voice live what - how could you be-

"By the way, I wrote MOF while thinking about you," you wipe the tears forming on your waterline, "I'm shit right now, but I don't care. I'm saying stuff I'll not remember so you have to remind me okay? I'm gonna end the call now. It's a stupid reason - I just wanna see you."

Before you tap the red button Namjoon could hear you mutter, "I didn't imagine you'll be this fucking handsome God, I should have fixed myself."

The screen goes back to the convo space with you now offline and Namjoon can't feel his heart.

What the fuck, you're Y/N?!

A/N | Hi anon! I combined your requests into #15. Hope you like it! Sorry for the long wait! BTW, Send Me is a social media platform I made up and so is the brand Flyday!

09.07.2018 : Update! This will become another drabble series of mine so expect more dynamics and shenanigans of fan!namjoon and idol!you :D

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amazildoessomethingstupid · 5 years

Text

Chapter 87: Boy Toy

Oh boy, this one was a trip for me. I’ll start out by saying the main problems I have with this chapter are primarily with the start because that is so...ugh. We start off with Daisy caring about Paulo, and Abbey being a jealous little fuckboy. But that’s not what we’re here for is it? No. We’re here because of this

Oh boy. Yeah that is definitely gay behavior that would totally bring someone’s sexuality into question. I mean just look at this. Who the fuck does that? I mean someone’s up in your face, and acting all tough and stuff. So in order to show how much it doesn’t care and just to piss them off you kiss them? Jesus christ that would make anyone question their sexuality!

I mean god, just look at those fucking gays! My god.

Okay, but in all honesty this really is stupid, and when I heard and saw this shit it left such a sour taste in my mouth because it’s so ignorant to imply this is gay given the context of both of these characters and the situation. Because this to me doesn’t make me believe that Paulo is starting to act gay or in a way that would make him question his sexuality. It’s actually the opposite, because to me this is an act of defiance, it shows Paulo’s comfortable enough in his sexuality that he’d kiss a guy to piss him off and not even think twice about whether or not it’s gay.

Then we move on to the immediate next page where there’s another thing to bring up because

First of all, Mike where the fuck have you been? Look at this scene composition:

Who the fuck was talking to you Mike?! No seriously, who was talking to you? This is the same scene, same place. I know it’s the next page, but seriously was there a time skip in-between pages? Was there cut dialogue? Why is he saying that? No one seemed to be talking to him before. This is weird composition, and it’s messing with my head a little. But that’s just probably a rewritten bit of dialogue from trying to write and rewrite this scene to make it more presentable and less clunky.

Unfortunately it didn’t work, because these bits of dialogue seem clunky as hell. First of all what is Mike even talking about with “I’m not against guys, uh...” I guess he means “against guys kissing” so it’s clear he’s insinuating Paulo has The Gay(tm). But this just seems like such an awkward thing to say, maybe “Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you...y’know...” or something like that. Why is he being broad about it “I’m not against guys...” and not “I’m not against you...” what do other guys have to do with it? It seems like even he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. And I don’t get the point of “It doesn’t seem like something you’d normally do” like, I guess yeah but if Mike’s earnestly trying to be supportive here, wouldn’t he say something like “I mean if that’s what you wanna do, that’s what you wanna do...” or “Hey I’m not judging or anything, I mean you do you man.” Why would he say it like that? As if this would be something out of.. character...

OH HA HA HA VERY FUCKING FUNNY YOU SON OF A BITCH

Oh yeah, and Paulo’s reaction is just ridiculous. Guy goes from zero to one hundred, and jumps to the conclusion that he’s being called gay even though Mike’s language has been pretty vague and not really even saying “gay”. I guess maybe that’s what Taeshi was trying to accomplish here, but it just comes off as weird. And according to the author’s notes Paulo’s reaction was actually supposed to be even MORE overblown than this.

But moving on from this awkward exchange, we go to the next page where Paulo is now in a tissy, and

HOLY SHIT ffffff god I just got visual whiplash! Is that even a thing?! Like the whole big head style is whatever, but jesus christ Rachel, what are you? 3 feet tall? Reminder: Rachel is at least a year older than Paulo, and is also a chubby puppy. What the heck is this? Remember kids: If you base character size based on how short they are comparatively to the people around them and not based on how tall they are from the ground, you can find yourself falling into the trapping of making your characters dwarves. And if you have a style that gives them big anime eyes, and petite bodies, you might accidentally turn them into lolis. And if you’re not okay with that, then you must quickly reevaluate your stylistic choices.

But anyway, I know this is long but don’t worry kids I’m not gonna roast every single page. Just every page that I got problems with. And there’s nothing as bad with the next few pages. Matt invites Paulo to a party, and Paulo being an angsty confused little shit is rude to him at first. But luckily the best character in this entire comic is here to set him straight

Have I mentioned how much I love Rachel? Cause I do. A lot. And this is a big part of my reason why. She’s not one to put up with other people’s bullshit, even those that she loves.

She’s not gonna let that shit stew for months or shit, nah she’s gonna call you out the moment she sees it, and she’s gonna set you straight. She’s not gonna put up with anyone’s shit, and I fucking love her for that. You fucking go girl!

...

And don’t tell me about what’s coming up...I already know...

I got a bottle a jack ready for it, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it...

anyway I guess this isn’t so bad, I mean my only real problem with this chapter is how Paulo’s sexuality is being handled here. I feel like it could definitely have been handled better and more naturally, especially if it wasn’t spurred on by him fucking with Abbey, maybe if it was another character like...

Oh yeah! David! Hey, that’s a good point! David would’ve been perfect for a chapter like this. I mean, if I had to write Paulo questioning his sexuality his relationship with David would be an obvious go to. I mean they’re practically inseparable, and it’d be easy to use that to be how Paulo would start to question his sexuality! And while I hate to put myself in Taeshi’s shoes, because I would never want to be her; if I were writing a chapter where Paulo starts to realize he’s bi or starts to question his sexuality, I’d start with his relationship with David. I mean it’s pretty much all but confirmed that David is gay if not bi himself, and from an outsider’s point of view one would easily presume that they were gay together. So what if Paulo’s talking to Matt or something, like when he’s getting invited to Matt’s Aunt’s house. And Matt says Paulo can bring David as well. And Paulo would laugh about it and be like “Hey, I don’t have to bring David everywhere it’s not like we’re a couple or anything. I got Rachel!” And Matt would be like “ha, could’ve fooled me~” or something like that. Just off-handedly joking about it, but it plants the idea in Paulo’s head that maybe his relationship with David is kinda gay, and that’s what makes him start to overthink things. And he could start acting out against David, like trying to push him away which causes him to get upset and figure out what’s wrong eventually getting him to open up about it. Man David would be perfect for this chapter! Maybe he can help show Paulo how being gay isn’t bad, or show him that his behavior is nothing to be worried or upset over! Maybe by showing an actual platonic friendship with someone who is gay, Paulo can realize the nuance of being gay an-

Oh that’s all that we get out of David for this chapter huh? Okay, that’s cool....

Well after this nothing really happens in this chapter. Paulo sees Daisy again, and gets flustered/scared? And decides to go watch a movie because...he told Daisy he’d do that. It’s pretty contrived.

In fact the whole movie part of this chapter is contrived, and doesn’t serve any real purpose besides giving us 6 pages of Paulo just overthinking things, and being confused. There’s not much to comment on, besides this scene composition

First of all, indeed WHAT DO YOU MEAN NC-17?! Movies don’t get released into theaters with an NC-17 that shit’s straight to DVD. That’s the unrated cut, with titties and shit. What the heck kind of theater is showing that? What cinema is this?

AMAYA!

AMAYA, ARE YOU FUCKING SHOWING NC-17 MOVIES?! YA FREAK! WHAT KIND OF PORNO THEATER SHIT ARE YOU RUNNING HERE?!

Okay but all jokes aside, after this Paulo reassures his sexuality for a moment when he bumps into a girl and...

flirts? I dun get it. Is this all it takes to remind him that he is also into chicks? Well that was easy, and...

wait...DID YOU POP A BONER? I-is that what’s going on here? What’s going on here? This feels really contrived, like it needed to be expanded upon more to make it organic. Anyway speaking of contrivances

Hello Mike, I see now why all this is happening. You see, I have a theory about this chapter and its purpose with having Paulo be bi. Actually, I have a few theories on its purpose, but one of them is that, this...all of this...is wind in the sails. Because, it may be too early to say this but I’m like 99% that this whole Paulo questioning his sexuality thing, isn’t going to lead anywhere. And before you fucking @ me about Jordan, let me ask you...did that really need to happen? Did it really change his character? Does this change Paulo’s views on his relationships, or potential relationships? Do you think this is going to affect his personality or actions in a non-hamfisted way? Cause call me cynical but I don’t. I don’t think it will. What I think this is for, and especially why Mike is going to be the one explaining to Paulo why it’s okay to be gay is because...

Taeshi wants to blow wind in the sails of people who ship Paulo with Mike...

And somewhere, somehow, in some dark secluded corner of the earth...A man named Raxki Yamato just had the biggest, sloppiest, most intense orgasm of his entire life...only a select few of you will probably get that joke.

Anyway, Mike takes Paulo to his house to tutor and...

W-was Paulo checking out Haley? That’s...admittedly weird.

Anyway, the story rears it’s face in again and imma keep it real with you chiefs...

I actually like this page. This part with Mike talking to Paulo about Sandy is really nicely done. It brings up a dynamic I actually didn’t quite realize between Paulo and Mike in that they both have had relationships where their girlfriend is often too busy to make time for them. And I really like this. I like their dialogue, it feels very in character, especially Paulo’s snarky quip in the above picture. I just love it.

aaaaaaaaaaaand we’re back on that gay shit again! But don’t worry, because I actually like this part.

This back and forth between Mike and Paulo, is exactly what I was talking about with the beginning of this chapter. This whole exchange works, having them going back and forth between uncomfortable conversation to light hearted banter is precisely how this whole thing should’ve been handled. And I really like how it’s handled here.

But anyway we finally end the chapter with a follow up scene with Rachel and

For real look at her. If I showed you this picture out of context, what would you guess her age? 12? 10? 8? Like for real, this shit is ridiculous.

But anyway, Paulo apologizes to Rachel for being stupid and taking it out on Matt, coming to the understanding that he doesn’t understand and that’s okay. And Rachel reistablishes herself as the saving grace of this comic once again and all is well.

Overall I give this chapter a 3/10. After all the shit I’ve heard about this chapter, I kinda expected it to be completely bad, but Taeshi didn’t shit the bed completely and there was some actually good moments in this chapter. But I still give it a 3 because 70% of this chapter was still bad. The beginning of this was insultingly convoluted, the middle bit was dumb and kind of pointless, and if it weren’t for the end bit where the characters actually felt like their characters I’d rate this even worse. But all in all, not all bad at least it’s not too insulting. The worst part of it is just that it feels pointless if not redundant. Because another theory I’ve heard spread about this chapter is that it was done to explain away Paulo’s homophobic behavior in past volumes, which to me is what really ruins this for me. Because, it is such a trope to have the homophobic character be homophobic because he’s secretly gay/bi. It’s fucking stupid, especially since you could’ve easily had a natural way of showing Paulo break away from his homophobic tendencies through Matt! In fact, that’s what I presumed was happening.

Paulo would just naturally not want to piss off Matt cause Matt’s a pretty cool guy, and friends with Rachel, so he’d try to not say homophobic shit, or maybe Matt would call him out on that stuff and Paulo would realize the pain his words cause and would learn the error of his ways, and naturally try to stop saying those things. But alas, this is how it goes, and in the end it gets a 3/10 it’s not like December bad, but it sets a precedence for this character that I know isn’t going to matter. And I guess TL;DR the best I could say about this chapter is:

(I was also gonna do the interlude here, but this shit is fucking LOOONG so I’ll do it for the next post. See you guys then)

#Bittersweet Candy Bowl #rant

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permian-tropos · 6 years

Text

TIME TO GUSH ABOUT TLJ cause I was looking through screenshots and here’s a bunch of things I might not have mentioned before and a few that I have

1) Paige Tico!!!! PAIGE TICO! her entire time in the spotlight is such a perfectly crafted, perfectly tense scene

2) UM THE OPENING SPACE BATTLE IS SICK the bombers have such striking silhouettes and this is used for some amazing shots

3) PAIGE’S DEATH BEING PRESENTED AS TRAGEDY (and not being softened heavily with the promise of being part of something meaningful the way R1′s deaths are)

4) Captain Candy Crush’s death is given gravity too and I stan this, he’s not made sympathetic and still there’s nothing triumphant about people being blown up. war is not good

5) Finn’s pod is very flattering and angelic even though his water suit is silly. he basically has a halo and no filmmaker would accidentally give a character a halo so jot that down

6) Snoke’s throne room being utilitarian AND extravagant at the same time is impressive. also I still love the way that Snoke’s real form was made to be this exaggeratedly WASPy old man with the skin texture and wrinkles and pale tufty eyebrow hair, and you know what else? the fact that the camera favors showing the undamaged side of his face. I fucking stan the fact that Johnson took another disfigured villain and played up his old caucasian grandpa looks and made his disfigurement blend into his age. Snoke is a caricature of horrid old white men, possibly the first successful caricature of whiteness in speculative fiction. he looks like Henry Kissinger

7) Kylo Ren’s bandaid has a pattern on it. we ask ourselves. why. did he get to pick out the pattern. are there multiple patterns. are they all edgy and black. I’m now completely invested in whoever decided that they would have patterned bandaids but not make them TOO fun

8) the movie is so pretty im just. the fuckign. aesthetic. all of it. the palette seems to have been taken from a thunderstorm and it’s perfect. the use of gray is a reason I happen to think people didn’t like the film. they were like what the fuck is all this gray in star wars. star wars shouldn’t be gray. but it’s so unique, it’s not the gray of lazy color grading, it’s the gray of someone who knew that the feeling of haze and uncertainty needed some gray and rolled it in like a fog. I’m going to have to post more screenshots

9) I like the fact that the puppet porgs, as opposed to the CGI porgs, are actually kinda ugly cute

10) everything mark hamill does is perfect. every line, every facial expression, every pose. every moment from luke in tlj is unbelievably iconic. alec guinness would be so jealous

11) Luke perking up and genuinely smiling when he sees R2D2 is the purest moment I have to just

my eyes are moist

12) the architecture and set design is so amazing too? I love this shot introducing Rose, the harsh contrast that draws your eye away from her, the way she’s fading into her corner of brownish-gray, it’s so good for evoking... idk, just how the world seems too bright and too stark and made of shapes, after someone you love dies

13) I really love how much time we spend on Ahch-To, and how none of it has any campy space action. you’d expect to see some training there, but a lot of people were clearly hoping that Luke and Rey would leave the planet. but we linger so much on the setting, a setting which wholly embodies Luke’s state of mind

14) old luke is a handsome gent. i don’t see enough people with the hots for old luke. this is a big mistake

15) this shot foreshadows Kylo Ren becoming the Supreme Leader IMO. we see him surveying the war machine, watching the instruments of death be constructed, set apart from everyone -- a glimpse into Kylo’s desire for absolute power without anything being direct. maybe he’s contemplating his isolated existence, how much he doesn’t belong in the Order. or maybe he sees an allure to all this. this is what he wants to possess. it’s probably a mixture of both

16) Rey and Luke!!!!!!! everything about how the film frames them develops their relationship!! even as Luke is testy with her, we get shots like these where they’re sharing a warm sunset light and having deep heart to hearts.

and you know what you know what what what

the fact that Rey starts asking WHO her parents are after meeting Luke is uhh clearly suggesting that she’s wondering if maybe Luke is her dad. I love in this one shot how he’s slumped and she’s sitting up straighter, making him the vulnerable one. I love how the sunset light highlights Rey’s buns. I love that she keeps her buns for a while. I love that people have headcanoned she kept the buns so that her parents would recognize her, and she has the buns in the whole time she’s trying to get Luke to act like the hero she believes in. like she’s trying to get him to recognize her

Rey adopts Luke as her dad and it’s beautiful get out of my face

17) ye there’s a lot of dead children but also I hadn’t really thought about the fact that R2 watched this as well? and R2 was powered off for so long, until the end of TFA? R2 was traumatized and grieving too, and he’s seen this before, he remembers all the way back to when it was Anakin

18) hors!!!!!!!

19) what the SHIT is this why is this movie a fucking painting why does it keep outdoing itself in paintingness argh the way this film uses the day-night cycle is unbelievable, having Rey and Finn’s stories be connected by having the same time

THE HCKING MOON THOUGH

20) Ok we could talk about how the cold blue moonlight of uncertainty has become the warm orange light of companionship but we can’t forget what firelight also represents re: Kylo cough burning temple nice little double meaning, is Rey making a new friend or is she being tempted, is he going to warm her or burn her

but also I haven’t thought about how fucking awkward Kylo looks!! is he sitting on that barrel?? like since he’s not there is he just sort of compositing himself into the scene? using a convenient barrel

21) see what I mean about blue being cold. blue = asceticism, red = indulgence, the two extremes

22) Luke sinks into darkness

23) BUT HE DOES ONE THING! the thing that breaks him out of his depression. he takes the fire -- which represents the burned temple, represents Ben Solo, represents the humanity of the Dark Side -- into his own hands. we see the fire symbolizing destruction, then intimacy, then change, in such short succession

fire represents light-dark, something that is both at once. we’ll get back to this

24) you could say that balance is about making your own light in the darkness

also this is why Poe’s line about being the spark that will burn the First Order down isn’t ~too violent~ cause fire has become a symbol of change, of destruction reclaimed as something restorative, thank you very much

25) can we talk about the fact that between this being like a coffin and the way Rey is holding the saber, this actually has the heaviest resemblance to the way medieval knights were depicted atop their sarcophagi. I don’t even know what it means but maybe it hints that Rey sees herself as a martyr and a crusader in this quest to redeem Kylo and prove her valor

26) the fact that Poe isn’t the only one who gets in on the coup. because the Resistance isn’t a real military it’s a few thousand antifas gathered from all around the galaxy and their numbers are dwindling fast. people kind of put it all on Poe but Connix and Finn and Rose and this woman and this man and this alien were part of it too, and they could have told Poe to cut it out. I like how the blonde woman seems like she’s not sure what’s going on, she’s evaluating the situation

27) you know what I stan? I continue to stan aspects of how Snoke is portrayed. I stan the fact that he gets all close up in Rey’s face and grabs her cheek and it kind of mirrors the way Kylo gets in her personal space in TFA but even less so than in TFA, Rey is not framed in the way girls often are when they’re restrained and in distress. when she’s being tortured, we’re not given any tantalizing views of her body. Snoke floating her around the room has her stiff and awkward, and the close-up of her screaming in pain puts the camera behind her head so we see this from her POV, we’re not voyeuristically staring at her, we’re experiencing this indignity with her

28) Kylo Ren killing Snoke has the exact same light on his face as when he killed Han Solo. this is very very interesting

here I am in my corner of Kylo having twisted affection for Snoke as well

29) I wish I could ship this more cause I don’t need all this talk of fairy tale weddings and force pregnancies when here they are slicing up lobster boys with laser swords

30) oh but this is where he makes Rey look sad and thats where!!! you know hes gonna have to pay!!! basically everything about the scene where Kylo tears Rey’s heart out and stomps on it and then asks her to be grateful is extremely well done and it did its intended job of making me Big Mad At Kylo

also look the fire is back its Symbolic

31) you know what I can’t show in this post? the FUCKING SOUND THAT COMES AFTER THE HYPERSPEED RAM. that sound is the most glorious sound I’ve heard come out of a movie. it’s like a massive metal whale’s death scream. Star Wars has always run on sound design but literally that sound (along with the scene it’s attached to) outdoes everything that has come before it holy wow

32) Finn WHACKING Phasma. he didn’t use a lightsaber in this film, but he uses the baton he picked up the same way he used the lightsaber, and it even glows blue for good measure. and we can’t forget that this movie shows a boy holding a broom like a lightsaber, and Rey practicing saberplay with her staff, so -- objects that are not lightsabers symbolizing lightsabers is a thing

33) I didn’t think about the fact that the Supreme Leader’s throne room is designed to display a view of the outside, or be cloaked in red. possibly it could display anything it pleases. this is great fun for imagining First Order characters making it display things they want to see, like beautiful vistas, or holofilms. possibly it can recreate whole scenes, like a Star Trek holodeck

34) I don’t have to talk about how Leia is framed by the dawn on Crait do I? we already got the picture when it comes to the day-night cycle and how beautiful it is

35) BABY 8 I can’t believe this droid gets belly scritches and nuzzles from Poe

36) fucking love when Kylo finally snaps and starts throwing petty tantrums again at the end of the film like he holds back his brattiness for 12 hours and then here comes the screaming and foot stamping and flailing

I have thrown too many temper tantrums in my life to not want to see one on the big screen in its full glory. no one has pushed him to the point where he’s just ugly crying on the floor, spewing snot and tearing at his hair

I got vicarious pleasure out of Poe’s outburst on the bridge too. people being angry and not being in the right. it’s something I need for catharsis

37) miniaturized Death Star technology aka BIGGEST LIGHTSABER. Kylo stop compensating

but AU where a ginormous person uses the cannon as an actual saber

38) I’VE TALKED ABOUT HOW FINN’S MOMENT IS IN MY TOP TWO FEELS MOMENTS (top one is the hyperslice) but basically if you don’t think he was affected by seeing the slave kids on Canto Bight, what do you think he’s so angry about here, what do you think has him in a blinding rage?

why do movies have to spell everything out for people in exhaustive detail? the only new thing Finn gets from his experience with Rose, is seeing how the First Order isn’t this isolated enclave of evil. the most powerful people in the galaxy have been supporting it all along. he stops trying to run away because he realizes there is nowhere he can run that won’t have injustice. and he’s seen villagers being massacred, he’s seen the Order attack people he cares about, he’s been personally threatened and had one-on-one duels, but on his trip with Rose he sees children being beaten into submission with electric whips

can’t believe people think Finn wasn’t affected by that when it’s the one thing motivating his character growth

every time he sees civilians getting hurt -- children and families -- he sees himself and the family he’ll never know in them, and is so overwhelmed that he does something brash and radical and self-endangering every time, and his arc is about learning to live with that anger. he runs away from feeling and his angst is so beautiful

and I’m still in the camp of Finn having had a Zuko-like arc when he was a teenager because that boiling frustration at not being able to express his natural empathy is what drove Zuko to angst so hard

FINN IS THE SOLIDARITY KING! HE CARES SO FUCKING MUCH

39) fire. Luke facing his demons involves him walking through a gate of flame, out of the darkness, into the light

I will say that this is also very Buddhist imagery -- the flaming sword symbolizes wisdom, which cuts through the veil of illusion, specifically the illusion of duality

“Mañjuśrī is depicted as a male bodhisattva wielding a flaming sword in his right hand, representing the realization of transcendent wisdom which cuts down ignorance and duality”

and of course fire being the bridge between light and dark has come up before in the film. the veil is visibly burning here, Luke having fully reclaimed the image of fire, which was earlier in the film held by Kylo Ren

I mean. just. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

40) something about this shot is extra special. everything that’s going on on the salt flats is like on this higher dimension, this spiritual plane

41) for a moment it looks like Luke and the First Order are standing against Kylo. gives you a glimpse into Kylo’s state of mind. is the Order his weapon, or his enemy? it’s both, and he’s absolutely terrified of it

also I’ve talked about how Palpatine’s Contingency plan is about getting revenge on his Empire because he hates its power as much as he revels in it, and he dedicates a good deal of time plotting ways to kill it, because he needs to prove that he is more powerful than it

being the Emperor or Supreme Leader carries with it the distinct horror of knowing that you can never be more powerful than the thing that has empowered you

42)

43) Luke achieving 100% maximum Buddhist allegory

44) the slope of the floor is the slope of the opening crawl of a Star Wars film

all right that’s all folks

#my post #star wars sequel trilogy #the last jedi #kind of a rewatch #rey of jakku #rebel finn #kylo ren #luke skywalker #finnrey #cw reylo #cw anti reylo #villain kylo #things I don't focus on as much #poe's arc (have talked about Holdo a lot)#rose (have talked about her a lot)

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arecomicsevengood · 6 years

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Jim Mahfood’s Grrl Scouts

I texted a pal to let him know I was thinking about buying the new collection of Jim Mahfood’s Grrl Scouts, and I was surprised at the total ambivalence of his reply. Considering our shared interest in comics that are kind of garbage, but interested in capturing youthful subcultures, I thought I’d get a “hell yeah man do it.” Mahfood’s style has changed a good deal since I read it in high school, and honestly the Magic Socks series looked fresh to me: While before Mahfood’s lineart was pretty stiff, sort of like colorforms or something, with thick lines, his interest in graffiti now manifests in lines and figures that are loose and gestural, the colors that fill in his compositions are bright and vibrant. Did I expect the story to be good? No, not at all. The new trade collection includes a backup on the “making-of” where the artist admits his intention with the comic was always to just do something exactly like Tank Girl, something that it seems like he can only admit to now that he has collaborated with Alan Martin on recent Tank Girl comics, but oh man holy shit do I ever not think that’s a good goal to have. The ideal influence for Tank Girl to have on someone is for them to dress like the character of Tank Girl, you shouldn’t try to make comics like Tank Girl, which are pretty hard to actually read and never very funny.

Credit where it’s due to my mom: When the Tank Girl movie was coming out, and the character and comics were being explained on Good Morning America, she asked the dude at the comic store I was shopping at to show her some issues, and she decided they were not for her. At the time I was disappointed, but in retrospect this is up there with when I explained the band Blink-182 played “pop-punk” and she responded “isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

But not to throw Tank Girl under the bus, Jamie Hewlett’s art is indeed rad as hell, I maybe prefer his Shade The Changing Man covers to the ones Brendan McCarthy did, and Mahfood’s cartooning now has a visceral energy to it that pops off the shelf. The issue with the writing in Grrl Scouts is that it’s brain-dead, a id that runs on references and cultural signifiers, My interest in buying the book and reading it plummeted when my skim brought me to the pages where Hunter S Thompson shows up as a spirit guide, and the author photo where Mahfood wears a bandolier.

In a climate where the critical discourse has deteriorated, and people praise things for the politics it seems like they have, ignoring their aesthetic value, Mahfood, a dude I think legitimately has a cool drawing style, still sort of gestures towards aesthetics the way other comics gesture towards politics. Like, rather than include a gay character who tells off a villain for fat-shaming someone, Mahfood will have panel where two characters quote Handsome Boy Modeling School. Rather than induce in the audience the sense that reading the comic is a political act that affirms them, it wants to tell the audience that the comic it’s reading is cool, the way that Prince Paul is cool. However, the really-not-that-political act of having minority representation in a work of fiction still places more demands on the writer than what Mahfood is doing, which is basically signaling that he’s just hanging loose and doing what he feels like. What’s weird about that, then, is it that even though this is totally non-focus-grouped, independent work, it still kind of feels the same way that like Coca-Cola paying for a fake graffiti “street art” mural does, like it’s trading off of something that already exists to build its brand. Only Mahfood’s graffiti-influence style is trading off of the historical existence of Hunter S Thompson, and he himself is the sort of person that would be hired for the sort of project I’m describing- One of his first high-profile projects was the Generation X Underground Special Marvel Comics put out in 1998.

At the same time, looked at honestly, Mahfood’s work does function as a sort of aboveground version of a zine. It doesn’t conform to notions of quality, but I like it as a form of communication, of someone talking about music, and the things they think are cool. It feels adolescent, and dumb, and contrived, but I feel like I recognize the person who makes it and could get along with him. I like it, because I like comics, though it doesn’t work as a narrative. The characters are thin, but you can read through them, to get at a feeling for the character of the creator. This is not the best effect you can achieve, but it’s something. It’s something you can get from zines, through people you meet in real life or via mail order, and this can be a transformative experience. This, the version you can get at a comic store, is kind of dispiriting.

Grrl Scouts’ version of what’s cool also includes guns and doin’ cocaine. I disagree! It is kind of crazy to think of the way Brandon Graham’s stuff also contains a graffiti influence, but in so many ways is a more satisfying reading experience, and Mahfood has been making fairly high-profile professional work for way longer. It’s not fair to compare them at all, but right now I’m thinking about how Graham specifically does not include guns in his comics because he doesn’t think they’re cool, and so creates sci-fi weaponry instead: Nonetheless his stuff still feels like it has higher stakes, due to actual emotional involvement with the characters.

This may or may not be relevant to the topic at hand, but it is something I’ve been thinking about: The rapper Lil B has been incredibly influential in ways that cannot even really be calculated. One of the reasons it can’t be calculated is because he never got signed to a record label, besides putting out a double-LP of ambient music on a noise label. The lack of record label support, if anything, just demonstrates the irrelevance of record labels. And then I realized that calling Lil B “The Based God” actually points out that I sort of feel about him the way some of the devout feel: If you do not believe, your words are not relevant. But I can’t say definitively if the problem with Jim Mahfood is that he doesn’t like Lil B because I don’t think he’s weighed in on the matter, I’m just kind of assuming he doesn’t fuck with it. I really don’t know. I guess I mean more that Lil B is someone who sort of blew up the landscape, with a different relationship to tradition, and makes space for things to flourish in ways he couldn’t. So in this example Mahfood would be like Lil Yachty or something, although in other ways he’s like an old dude who probably hasn’t liked a new rapper since Def Jux folded. But I’m becoming that dude too, now that I’m my thirties. So this is maybe how I feel like I can relate to Jim Mahfood. I feel like I can call this comic “retarded” without anyone yelling at me for being “ableist” because no one who would use that word would be interested in defending the honor of Grrl Scouts.

I guess I should explain what the “plot” to Magic Socks is. But oh my god, it’s so stupid, and it doesn’t matter at all. Honestly, maybe the most accidentally revealing moment here is when a character says that Grant Morrison’s Doom Patrol is pretentious, but The Invisibles is a perfect balance. The Invisibles feels really dated on the basis of its constant cultural referencing, creating a sort of hypertext for itself to exist in as opposed to developing its own system as a work of fiction that can sustain itself. The values Mahfood and Grrl Scouts have seem dated and anachronistic, but also it seems like telling a story, even a really weird story, would be beyond it. It’s a comic that wants to be fun and wild and comes off as sad, the way an older person romanticizing youth, or lamenting the way the young are now, is sad. That the art is developed way beyond what a younger Mahfood could achieve hints at a form of aging gracefully that gives the book an even greater disconnect.

Bill Sienkiewicz does a pin-up in this comic. Like Mahfood, Sienkiewicz is also a veteran of the pages of Oni Double Feature, although he was already a legend, and Mahfood was an up-and-comer. Comics is so divided up by scenes and strata these days and I hope Sienkiewicz has seen and been given copies of comics by the past decade’s more exciting younger artists. At the same time, while a younger Bill Sienkiewicz worked with Frank Miller and Alan Moore, it seems like Jim Mahfood would benefit from working with writers more skilled than Kevin Smith, his most high-profile former collaborator.

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