As Sweet As Bulbasaur 🍦

when your circle small but y’all doomed by the narrative

Internet vernacular has completely altered what some words and expressions mean to me. Forevermore, I will hear the words "hear me out" will only and exclusively as "before you cast your judgements prematurely, please pause and allow me to explain how and why I should be allowed to fuck this thing".

⊹₊ ⋆ Don’t get too cocky simply because you had one victory over Sallow. ⊹₊ ⋆

Yap sesh because I believe The Lost Boys NEEDED to die

I totally understand where some of y'all are coming from when you say that The Lost Boys shouldn't have died or they should have gotten a better ending, but that's kind of the whole point.

Their deaths were pointless. It didn't do anything, it didn't help anyone, it was meaningless, and that's why it happened.

I've talked a lot about The Lost Boys (1987) and how it relates to queerness, but as a refresher: it was directed by a gay man and came out during the height of the AIDS epidemic when queer people were left to die because they defied societal norms.

AIDS was medically recognized in 1981, but because it was primarily affecting queer people (sometimes referred to as "the gay plague"), it was left completely unacknowledged by the Reagan Administration until it took the life of Reagan's friend, the famous American actor Rock Hudson, in 1985. It still wasn't until 1987 that the epidemic was addressed because, as Reagan stated, "maybe the Lord brought down this plague."

(I fully believe that The Lost Boys (1987) is a criticism of the Reagan Administration, both their response to the AIDS epidemic and the ideal of the perfect nuclear family, and I WILL write an essay if prompted, but that is completely beside the point.)

Leaving queer people to die didn't get rid of AIDS or solve any of the world's problems because we were never the source of the problems. It was pointless, and that's part of why The Lost Boys also had to die. Because it solved nothing. Because we died, and we put ourselves in our art to highlight the injustice of it.

While I'm very pleased that we want justice for imperfect victims (because let's face it, The Lost Boys were NOT good people), I think that we should still recognize that the same message wouldn't have been conveyed narratively had they lived: we died and it was pointless, so take out the old man in charge to start fixing shit.

Being the youngest avenger and them reacting to you going to Xavier's (or college/school)

-Bucky would be so proud that you want to control your mutations and Learn -Steve would be chill at first then realize you’re serious -“YOU CANT LEAVE WHOS GOING TO MAKE SURE THOR DOESNT EAT A BAR OF SOAP!” - “I have full faith that the incident with soap won’t happen again Stevie…I hope” -Wanda being super excited for you to meet cute boys (aka Alex summers or young Scott summers) - Nat hiding weapons in your bags just in case - tony trying to replace you with peter but it doesn’t work - dramatic sobbing “ ITS NOT THE SAME BRUCE!! I WANT MY LITTLE CHEESESTICK BACK” - and peters like “wtf thanks bruh #notfeelingthelove” - Bruce making up a schedule for when to call or video chat every one individually - Clint and sam being soccer moms and giving you a check list of stuff to pack and making sure you do - Thor is just not having any of it - “NO YOU WILL NOT TAKE IT I AM A NORSE GOD AND I FORBID IT” - Thor holding onto your leg like ‘bitch you going I’m going to’ -eventually Steve gets him off…but then Bucky can’t let his little sidekick go - “BUCKY PUT ME DOWN YOU OVERGROWN SNOWFLAKE” - tearful goodbyes - momma!steve - “call me when you get there, and call us everyday, and If you want to come back I will not hesitate to get you immediately, NO BOYS! And we love you” -long hug - “Thor….” “ROSE LET JACK GO I WILL NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE!” - “come on (y/n) we have a long journey ahead of us” - “coming professor Xavier” -mouthing ’ I love you guys’ before the elevator closes - Tony, Bucky, and Thor crying for days until you call “LADY (Y/N) I MISS YOU”

idk just reading every moment wyatt was mentioned and how he was slowly just uncovered to be just a smart boy from a rotten family :( its so very i bet on losing dogs and i want to cry

I wrote something!  It’s been forever since I’ve felt well enough to write for fun.  Just a quick opening for a possible A/B/O stony story. ROUGH DRAFT!!!

           Steve shifted the squirming four-year-old on his hip and practically ran up the steps of the school.  He was breathing hard and his heart was constricted in a way that told him he was overreacting but he had never been called down to Grant’s school before.  He was only 6 for God’s sake!  He turned the corner into the office and almost barreled into another man.

           “Whoa, gorgeous, not the most appropriate place to get me on my back.”  Brown eye sparkled at Steve in mirth.  For a moment Steve’s brain stuttered at how pretty the man’s eyes were.  They reminded him of a brown tourmaline gem he’s once seen.  Then the man’s words caught up to him and Steve felt his whole face turn red.

           “Hello, mister!”  Nicky shouted as he bounced on Steve’s hip.

           “Well, hello, handsome.” The other man held out his hand as if he was going to shake Nicky’s hand.  Nicky grabbed the one with both of his and gave an enthusiastic shake. The man huffed a laugh and smiled, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at Steve’s son.  Steve stopped breathing.

           “Ah, Mister Rogers, you’re here.  Please will you and Mister Stark come in, you can leave Nicky with Martha, if that’s alright.”  Steve looked up at the principle as he poked his head out of his office and waved them in. Hesitantly, Steve handed Nicky over to the secretary and told him to be good.  Nicky gave him a petulant look and then turned to the doting woman.  Steve rolled his eyes and followed the beautiful brunette – Mr. Stark – into the principal’s office.

           Just in the door he paused when he saw his oldest son sitting in one of the chairs before the principal’s desk.  His dark brown eyes widened when he spotted Steve and he jutted he jaw out in a determined look that was so reminiscent of pictures of Steve himself that he could just hear his mother laughing at him.

           “Could you close the door Mister Rogers?”  The principal – Mr. Harrington – asked as he sat at his desk.  Dutifully Steve closed the door before sitting in the remaining seat.

           Grant was just to his right and was now looking at something on Mr. Harrington’s desk like he could set it on fire with his glare. Mr. Stark was to his left, relaxed and somehow looking bored.  Partially hidden behind Mr. Stark was another boy about Grant’s age sporting a black eye. Steve felt his jaw clench and he did his dandiest to calmly turn to face the principal without turning a “what did you do?” glare on his son.  Six, the boy was six!  In first grade!

           “I’m sorry to call you gentlemen into the school but it was necessary since Grant and Howard –. “

           “Howie.”  The other boy spoke up, interrupting Mr. Harrington.  Steve raised his eyebrows at the boy and noticed that Mr. Stark had turned to the boy as well so Steve couldn’t tell what look he was giving Howie.

           “Ahem, my apologies, young man.”  Mr. Harrington nodded to the boy meaningfully.  “Grant and Howie got into a fight during the lunch period.  It seems a couple of older kids tripped Howie.  Grant took offense to their behavior and Howie responded to his bulling by physically attacking them.”

           “If Howie was defending himself and Grant was defending someone else, where is the problem?”  Mr. Stark spoke up.  Steve’s eyes widened at the gall.  He might agree to a degree but fighting shouldn’t be the first response!

           “Mister Stark – “

           “Come on, you can call me Tony, you’re Roger, and this luscious beefcake is -?”  Mr. Stark – Tony – had turned those bright brown eyes on Steve, a hint of humor mixed with seriousness.

           “Of course, Tony Stark, this is Steve Rogers.  Steve, Tony.”  Roger made introductions looking sheepish for not doing it earlier.

           “Steve, a pleasure.”  Tony gave Steve a smile that curved up higher on one side and made his hackles rise.  He felt like he was being challenged, or the butt of a joke, and he narrowed his eyes at the other man.

           “Now, Tony, violence is never the answer.  Teachers saw Howie get tripped and were on their way to intervene.  And if all that it escalated to was some bruised knees and egos I wouldn’t have felt the need to call you in.  However, one of the kids had to be taken to hospital.”

           Steve groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He heard a humming noise and then Tony spoke up.  “How exactly did that happen?”

           “Max punched Howie so I hit him in the face with my tray!”  Grant yelled. “If they weren’t bullies nuthin’ would have happened!”  Steve’s head whipped up and he was on the edge of growling at his son, but the moment he saw his son he could see Grant’s thin body vibrating in his seat and tears in his eyes.  Carefully, Steve leaned over and plucked the panicked boy out of his seat and settled him onto his own lap, tucking the boy’s head against his collarbone.

           “I think I understand what I need to, Roger.  How long until he can come back to school?” Steve asked.  Roger steepled his fingers and seemed to realize explanations were over.

           “Four days are sufficient, so just the rest of the week.”

           “Thank you, I think I’ll take my kids home now.”  

Steve stood up just now noticing that Tony had been quite through the last few minutes.  His eyes met the other man’s who was watching him with an expression Steve couldn’t quite place.  But that could be more because Steve was starting to feel more than a little drained from the events of the day.  Roger and Tony said their goodbyes as Steve left the office, still carrying Grant.  

On the floor in the front office Nicky was playing with some wooden peg puzzles. As Nicky put away his toys and said thank you to the secretary Steve was left in a predicament.  Nicky was in a clingy phase and always wanted to be carried. But Grant was nearing a panic attack which could cause an asthma attack so Steve wanted to keep soothing him.

“Need some help, Steve?”  Steve turned as Tony came up, Howie by his side.  Tony had a soft smile for Steve and a hand draped around Howie’s shoulders. Nicky seemed to remember Tony and ran up to him immediately.

“Hello, mister!”  Nicky giggled and held up both hands to shake again.  Tony obliged, turning his full attention to the four-year-old.

“What’s your name sweetie?”  Tony squatted down, headless of the immaculate suit he was wearing.

“Nicky.  You smell pretty.”  Steve should have been prepared for that.  Nicky commented on everyone’s scents.  Tony seemed taken aback for a second before recovering.

“Why thank you.”

“Sorry about that.  He’s been told that’s not polite.”  Steve was embarrassed beyond belief but Tony’s smile was reassuring.  But in the moment that passed when the two adults took their eyes of the little boy he had moved on to Howie.

“You smell real pretty to.”  Nicky cooed with his nose all but shoved into Howie’s neck.  Howie was trying to bend away from the younger child without taking a step and had a panicked look on his face.

“Dad?”  Howie asked, his blue eyes wide.

“Nicky! Stop that!”  Steve was horrified, but Tony just laughed before swinging Nicky onto his hip.

“Have some boundary issues, don’t you bud?”  Tony stared down the boy who only giggled at him and started babbling on about the strange hair on Tony’s face.  “Lead the way, Steve.”

Steve stared at Tony holding his son and felt a strange warmth in his chest. A sniffle from his chest spurned Steve into action and he led the way outside.  Tony followed, carrying Nicky and holding onto Howie with his free hand. At his truck, he loaded Grant into the back seat, and turned to take Nicky from Tony.  Nicky had a disgruntled expression on his face and arms tightly wrapped around Tony’s neck.  Tony’s face was bemused as he waited to see what Steve would do.

“Howie and Tony come too.”  Nicky was in full demand mode and Steve was starting to wonder if hearing his mother laughing at him was a sign of insanity.

“No, Nicky.  We are going home and Tony and Howie are going to their home.”

“Since no school or work, we can all go to our home.”

“That would be a good point, Nicky, but I do have to go back to work.”  Tony spoke up.  Nicky turned his brown eyes on Tony and squinted them as he seemingly reassessed the situation.

“We’ll take good care of Howie till you stop work.”  Was Nicky’s resulting declaration.  Tony laughed.

“Young man, you can’t make demands and decisions for others.  You and your brother are in trouble.  I’m sure Tony can take care of his son.”  Without waiting for a response from Tony or Nicky Steve plucked his child out of the other man’s arms and had him buckled him in his booster seat with a speed designed to thwart attempts to flee.

“Wow.  I’m impressed.” Tony whistled.

“Mister Rogers, here’s Grant’s backpack.” Howie suddenly spoke up, getting Steve’s attention.

“Oh, thank you, Howie.  I didn’t even think about it.  Are you okay?”  Howie had been very quiet through the whole ordeal and even though Steve didn’t know the boy he wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Oh, yeah.  It was pretty awesome when Grant hit Max with the tray.”  Steve frowned and ignored Tony’s huff of laughter.  Howie didn’t notice, though, as he was peering around Steve into the open car.  Grant had curled in on himself as soon as Steve had put in the cab. “When we’re not in so much trouble can we hang out at your place or ours?”  Howie glanced between Steve and Tony.

“I don’t have a problem with that.  Not in the least.”  Tony said with a wink in Steve’s direction.  Steve felt his face heat again.

“That will be fine.”  Steve nodded. A squeal of delight came from the cab followed by something that sound appalling like ‘goodbye pretty flower’ from Steve’s youngest.  Mortification was not a strong enough word for what Steve felt.

Okay but it’s fucking brilliant that one of the themes of the book was about the distortion of history.

Usually prequels are a dangerous thing to write because unless they’re planned out well in advance, they risk contradicting lore in the main series. Even still, we knew barely anything about Haymitch’s games. They were the perfect stomping ground for new information, with a rough series of events but without a close temporal connection to the main books.

But though she had this freedom and safety net, while she could have just written a story that aligned with what we knew, Collins leaned into the idea of contradicting past lore head on and made it the damn thesis of the book; that yeah, actually, it did play out entirely differently from how the characters saw it, and yes that contradicts what you were told, that’s the point.

We didn’t really know what happened in the 50th games until we read it from Haymitch’s perspective, because what little information we did have was spliced up and edited. The video evidence was processed through the Capital, and twisted to serve their purposes.

Tackling that idea of history being written by those in power with a notoriously inconsistent medium? Goddamn, writer that you are, Suzanne Collins.

Father and Daughter