I Have Consumed Way More S'mores Than I Can Count, But Now That I've Seen The Film, The Menu, Every Time

I have consumed way more s'mores than I can count, but now that I've seen the film, The Menu, every time I see a s'more, I think of the scene from that film. If ya know, ya know.

what really got to me about the barbie movie is how the movie is really about how there is still a little girl inside all of us, and when you walk around the movie theater and see all these grown women dressed in pink and visibly excited, it's a reminder of that. but moreso, it's how your mother is a little girl too. and that all comes together in the end when barbie meets her creator. barbie was made so ruth's daughter could be anything she wanted to be, and she named her after her. in the end when ruth helps barbie become human, she is her mother. and when in the end barbie introduces herself as barbara, she is her daugher again. you can be anything, but being human and mortal and imperfect is the greatest gift of all.

Sometimes I don't want to go with the flow.

Sometimes I want to sit in the water like a rock and let the flow go.

re: the "you're cute" @celestialwrites prompt

@tarzinnia 's Living Dangerously Edition:

* "Hop in."

* "Convince me."

* "Actually, my name is sassy."

* "Only my lovers are allowed to call me that..."

* "Whadya know, you're drunker than I am."

* "We have two minutes and thirty-five seconds until detonation and that is what you say to me?"

* "Unless you want a fork impaled in the back of your hand, don't even think about stealing a bite of my tres leches cake."

* "Cute doesn't even make the top ten list of things I've been called."

* "Nice try but I'm still not changing your category on Fuck, Marry, Kill."

@withahappyrefrain

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ responses to “you’re cute.”

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “you’re not bad yourself.”

♡ “i know.”

♡ “cute is the same word you’d use to describe a dog. i am not a dog.”

♡ “thank you?”

♡ “i’m not.”

♡ “so are you.”

♡ “i’m not just cute, i’m fucking beautiful.”

♡ “i still hate you.”

♡ “no, don’t do that.”

♡ “you’re cuter.”

♡ “mmh, what else have you noticed about me?”

♡ “uh, thanks!”

♡ “i’m still not breaking the law for you.”

<3

*Hot town, summer in the city,

Please won't the temps lower a little bitty....

*Summer In The City; (1966) The Lovin Spoonful

Covered by multiple artists various genres

Aaaaaaaaargh. This was everything. Sad, mad, hurt, make it right. Just the everything pizza and I was eating it up reading until the end. The line, ‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’ just killed me. Thanks for the story. That was a real gift of feeling human right there.

hi babeeee!!! idk if this is how requests work bc i never request fics but i was wondering if u could do something super duper angsty, like really angsty, and then hurt comfort with a fluffy end? it can be anything you want, but like that sort of timeline would be so so so good, if u could and if requests r open,, xoxoxox

it may have taken me 12 years but i did it bestie.

Peter Parker wasn’t the type of boyfriend to have rules. 

You were your own person, and should live as one. However, there were some things he was a bit more passionate about. 

Like: texting him when you get home (and he wasn’t around), calling him if you feel unsafe or nervous, keep him informed of your whereabouts so he could try and track you down if he needed to, and always, always, call him back. 

Peter had one rule, let him know you're safe. Always. Even when you’re mad at eachother, even at your most ugly, you’d let him know you’re okay. It was Peter’s one true rule, the other things he liked and he preferred you’d do, but this was his number one thing. 

And you’re not following it. 

The third time you ignored his call he felt frustration brew so deeply he almost slammed his phone to the ground, it would’ve done nothing to fix anything, and would’ve made a bigger problem, but the satisfaction of watching something break apart into a million pieces would’ve made him feel better. Even if just for a moment. 

It’s almost like you knew it’s pissing him off, you’ve never dug this deeply into a wound. You knew it would get under his skin in the right places, it was something that either of you didn’t play with. It was too serious for Peter, and knowing you were most likely safe and just doing this to try and get even with him made him furious. Because he can’t prove it. And because he can’t all he could think about how not okay you might be. 

Peter hates leaving angry voicemails but he can’t stop himself this time. 

‘This is the fourth fucking call you’ve ignored, I think you proved your point. I know you’re mad at me but this is just childish, you made this night go from a small hiccup to a massive fight because you won’t answer your phone. Just call me back, goddamn it.’ 

Peter’s never once gotten loud with you, he’s never once felt enough rage towards you he could ever buck up enough energy to yell at you. But all he wanted to do was scream about how inconsiderate you were. He understands he may have started it, he even tried to apologize but you must’ve had this in your heart for a minute because you couldn’t wait to bulldoze him. 

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I got caught up in the low-’ 

‘Whatever, I don’t care. I’m going home.’ 

‘Hey, no, no, no! We can still hang out! I haven’t ate-’ 

‘I did. I waited over an hour, Peter. I’m going home.’ 

‘I’m sorry, I really am, baby. I know tonight was important to you.’ 

And that’s when the night switched. 

‘No, Peter, this wasn’t important to me. This was important for us, this was about you trying to prove you still care about us.’ 

‘Woah, hold on, don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t care about you or us, that’s unfair and you know it.’ 

‘You know what, Peter? I didn’t sign up to date two guys. I was willing to accept the other because it was a package deal, but I’m tired of being picked last. You know I’ll always be waiting around and it’s so fucking tiresome just waiting around.’ 

‘Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were signing up for, you don’t get to act like this is new news.’ 

‘I’m always picked last! I understand who you are, Peter, who you share a life with, trust me, if anyone here knows best about understanding, it’s fucking me, but that doesn’t mean I’m always the last priority. I know sometimes I have to be on the backburner, and guess what, Peter? I fucking understand. But, tonight? What stopped you? Because it’s not like there’s a domestic attack on the city, so tell me, what was so fucking important tonight I was shot to the bottom of the list for it?’ 

‘Okay, I get it. I know you’re mad, but I think we both need to take a breath and talk about this at home.’ 

‘No! I want you to look at me and tell me what was so important NYPD’s finest couldn’t handle it for an evening.’ 

‘Baby, I really don’t-’ 

‘Fucking tell me! I want you to admit right now it was nothing important. Look me in the eye and admit you didn’t care about my feelings.’ 

‘It was a robbery. I have a responsibility to keep the city safe, a city you very much live in, by the way.’ 

‘Ah, the classic, ‘if you really think about it, I’m doing this for you’ line. Real original.’ 

‘Can we please just go home? If you’re going to be pissed at me anyways I’d rather it be in the comfort of our home.’

‘You can go wherever you want, but I’m not going anywhere with you.’ 

‘I’m gonna get a cab, hold on.’ 

‘No, I’m not going anywhere with you and I mean it.’ 

‘You can hate me at home, let’s go.’ 

‘No! I’m leaving, you can sit around waiting on me for once.’ 

‘Why are you doing this now? You’ve never been this persistent before, I moved in with you and you still don’t think it’s enough. What else do you want from me? I’m giving you all I can, fuck.’ 

‘You know what? I hope someone fucking kidnaps me, maybe then I’d be your first choice.’ 

‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’

‘I do. I hope I’m fucking tortured with you on the line, too.’ 

Peter tried calling out for you, screamed your name even, but you walked across the street and were swallowed into the crowd. He tugged at his hair a few times before looking around, he wasn’t sure what to do. Get a cab, bus, train? Does he walk in the direction you went? It’s a start. 

Pulling out his phone he tried calling, you sent him to voicemail on the second ring. You’re pissed, that’s fine, he just needs you mad and safe. Peter dodged bodies on his left and right, checking each alleyway for you, assuming you’d stop to collect yourself and call him when you had a breather. 

No sight of you. He doesn’t know where you went from here, it splits two ways. He tries using his boyfriend intuition and attempts to channel you, he’s left hopeless. Like a hail mary he remembers you share locations, Peter’s hands shake when he reaches for the app, your name loading until a small circle appears in his. 

You’re close. He follows the road forward, he knows you took this way and his heart squeezes. You deliberately took the sketchy route, the one you told Peter you wouldn’t dare walk without him. It looks like he’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell when he has to wait for it to constantly reload. 

Peter swears he can see your jacket ahead, he calls your phone, picking up the pace and trying his best to catch up. You blocked his call again, but he saw you do it.

He knows you heard your name get called, because you started to walk faster, it’s useless, Peter’s quicker. The only option you had was to hide in the crowd, squeezing yourself in the middle and out through the front. Sighing heavy at your escape, and a bit unamused by the childish behavior. Peter looked down at his phone refreshing your name ‘find friends.’ 

His face crumbled into a thousand pieces when the notification appeared, ‘- stopped sharing their location with you.’ His response was to call you, this time you let it ring out, and he left a nasty voicemail. It was like he snapped, he pulled at his curls and exhaled a loud ‘fuck!’ before gripping his phone so tight he thought it’d snap, and that's why he put it away. 

If you wanted to play dirty so could he, you’re hard to find from the street but when he’s swinging from building to building you’d be out of luck. He was tired and hungry, he wanted this to be over. Fight about it like grown adults, at home, while he’s making a grilled cheese or something. 

Peter ran down a back alleyway, ripping his clothes from his body and pulling his mask from his pocket. The suit came in handy tonight after all. Taking a sharp inhale, he took a leap, screaming out when he took flight. 

‘Not you, not you, not you, not…. You? No, not you.’ 

‘Where the fuck did you go?’ 

You were nowhere to be found, still no answer on his calls or texts. He knows it’s irrational, but he’s terrified you’ve jinxed yourself and really are in trouble. He’s taken the route on a spin three times and he still hasn’t seen you, there’s three options, you either went into a gay nightclub, were kidnapped, or somehow snuck your way across the road and into… central park. 

Of course you did, Peter should’ve known that. He told you one time it was a weak vantage point, he couldn’t see through the treelines all that well, and didn’t have much to swing from. At least he has a general idea of where you are, he just has to do it on foot. 

Maybe you were right, maybe he just sucked at prioritizing you now. He doesn’t know when he became this way. He just feels so responsible, he got a great gift and it’s only right he shares it. He just hasn’t figured out how to share Peter with you and Spider-Man with the world yet. Both people need him at the same time. 

At last, sitting on the edge of the fountain, is the love of his life. Just looking terribly sad, he hates to know he caused it. He may have started the fight, but you said some terrible things, things that were only said to jab at the most vulnerable spots. 

Taking a seat next to you he sighs, his entire body deflating in one breath. You mimic the sigh. 

“Rough night?” 

You hum, “my boyfriend and I got in a fight. Maybe we still are, I don’t know. What about you?” 

Peter stretches his legs, red feet scrape the brick. “My girlfriend went nuclear, kinda deserved. But, she also really hurt my feelings.” 

“Did you hurt her feelings too?” 

“Does that make it deserved?” 

Silence. It didn’t. 

Peter watches you twiddle your thumbs, chewing on your bottom lip and sniffing. 

“I’m sure she’s really sorry, and she knows whatever she said hit a soft spot. It seems like your job comes with some downsides, and maybe she kept it all bottled up until she couldn’t anymore, because how do you tell a superhero you want their attention more than a city needs protection?” 

He knows what you mean, he knows how selfish it could sound, but it’s not. You’re allowed to want him around every second, because he does too. 

“You don’t.” 

Peter can feel your eyes, “you don’t tell the superhero, you tell your boyfriend.” 

Your throat clears, “what if he’s both? What if he’s already spread too thin and his whining girlfriend is his last straw?” 

“No. He’s not spread too thin. He was unaware of how you felt, he didn’t know how much it bothered you. He didn’t know how far he pushed you away.” 

“So what changes now he knows?” 

Peter breaks character, this is about real solutions. 

“We figure it out. We’ll go home and look at our schedules and work around it, and have a set day where it’s only us. Twice a month we’ll have a standing date, attendance mandatory. The police scanner gets turned off unless it’s a slow night, and from now on, unless it’s a domestic attack, nothing comes before you.”