david owe

Black & White ★/ chapter one.

teen, 2789 words
also on ao3
summary: Jack Kelly’s an artist. And Davey Jacobs? Well. He’s art.
warnings: some internalized transphobia 
a/n: shoutout to @bisexualninej for so much help. i just. love these two and i couldn’t resist writing these trans boyfriends


Jack doesn’t like the idea of crushes. Mostly because he doesn’t understand them. Like, just because someone is beautiful and nice and kind, that means Jack has to suddenly be able to think of nothing else? What’s the point of that?

Jack can count on one hand the amount of crushes he’s had. He’s dated a lot of people, kissed even more, fucked less people than others would assume he has. But crushes? Honest to god liking someone? Not his thing. Jack Kelly isn’t about that life. And yes, he did just phrase it like that.

Which is why Jack is hesitant to call what he feels for David a crush. That? Would not make sense. They’ve literally talked twice and both times have been brief - small talk in every sense of the phrase. But… well? Jack definitely does feel something, something he doesn’t feel around others.

Not that any of that matters. Because even if it is a crush - which it’s not, okay? - it’s not like Jack is going to do anything about it. If Jack met David at a party, he probably would have pursued him, made out with him, and then that would be it. The end.

Instead, Jack has to see him every Thursday. Jack feels like this is some kind of cliche - having a crush (wait, no, not a crush!) on the model for his figure drawing class. Thankfully there hasn’t been any nudity. Jack has a feeling that’s coming and he has a feeling he’ll be sick that day.

Keep reading

4

“There’s no way you’re telling me that thing back there is from earth!”

-Eight Legged Freaks (2002)

7

I don’t know if I want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I can.

anonymous asked:

Should we take 'im to the Lodging House? Or maybe to Medda's? She might know some stuff that could help. *concerned about Davey* -Arrows

Race- Medda’d know what ta do, but the lodgin’ house has beds for Davey ta lie down on. Poor kid’s barely able ta walk…

Spot- I dunno, looks like Jack’s doin’ a good job of perkin’ ‘im up. *claps his hands* Would the two of ya like ta stop suckin’ face for just a moment an’ think about where ta go? None of us are doctors, an’ Davey needs medical attention soon as we can get it.

nonanon84  asked:

Kristen Stewart as Chloe and Ellen Page as Max! KStew has the intensity and bad-ass to be Chloe and Ellen has the drive and a "don't you get I'm doing this for you" vibe for Max. I mean, imho... Oh, and there needs to be a cameo by either Kyle McLaughlin or David Lynch because LiS owes so much to Twin Peaks (beyond the "fire walk with me" graffiti).

Hahahaha yeah!! I could totally see this and now I kinda want this

Russell T Davies has made Freddie Fox’s year. “Working on Cucumber was the most amazing experience,” says Fox of his role as Freddie Baxter. “I really got the chance to develop the character. I felt quite bereaved when I had to let him go.” He grew up around the business. “I wasn’t really a child actor. I was an extra in a lot of things, but that was more a sort of free-childcare arrangement while my parents were working.” 

 [x]

I somehow missed the news that Peter David owes $90k in back taxes and set up a gofundme to get his fans to pay it off without realizing he would have to pay taxes on the donations.

youtube

I’ve worked hard to hate David Bowie most of my life.

I spent my early teens quietly furious with this man in a dress who casually stole my last name and convinced the world to pronounce it wrong. There wasn’t a song on the radio, an SNL appearance, a movie with him that I didn’t meet carrying my grudge, letting it drag on the floor like a shrieking chair on linoleum. I didn’t think he was any good because I didn’t want him to be any good. I was content hating him from all the school assemblies, the attendance sheets, the sports awards and hundreds of general introductions where an adult didn’t even have the humility to pause, to stumble like they did for the Greek kids, before launching into my last name with a hard O, not a mistake egregious enough to correct, but enough to grate on my through sheer recurrence.

The first time I listened to one of his songs and really listened to it was driving with my brother to Denver and Eight Line Poem was on one of his mix tapes. My brother was four years older and had just spent his Freshman year at college. Having him back home was like resetting a game to a save point before fighting a boss and losing. It hadn’t occurred to me what college would mean for our relationship, I didn’t know how lonely it would be living in our quiet house in the woods without him as an ally because he had simply been there forever. I didn’t even realize I liked my brother until he put all this things in a hatchback and drove away.

Now, on the way over the Continental Divide with four solid hours to spend with him, Eight Line Poem got me. Or rather, I got it. It was sad and sobering and found a way through my seams. I really loved it in a desperate, compulsive kind of way that’s specific to the heart of a teenager. It may have just been the right time there in the car with my brother, but it was like opening a door. I downloaded Napster, I found the song on Napster. I started experimenting with other David Bowie songs to see if I could start fresh, if I could put the chair down and just listen. That’s how I became a David Bowie fan.

Now my brother lives across the country and we have families that don’t really allow us to travel much and I catch myself missing him when I don’t even realize it’s him I’m missing. I’ll always love David Bowie for putting something more than lyrics, for putting a sound to a moment in my life I couldn’t get a hold of otherwise, but one that I really needed to hold and remember. I will always be appreciative of that. Chuck Klosterman once said that music isn’t what moves us, it just holds our hand while we move ourselves. I owe David Bowie a huge debt of gratitude for holding my hand all those years ago while I was winding up the pass in a Subaru with my brother, Erik David Bowie. Try to read too much into that last part.