So there you got Abby and Erin, the core relationship of the movie with Erin literally jumping on the other side for Abby. But you also have Holtz and Abby who’ve known each other for a while and worked together all these years and Abby was Holtz’s family as stated in her final speech. BUT you also got Patty and Holtz, always being the dynamic and fun duo, the Baby™ petnames and having each other’s backs. BUT ALSO you got the heavy gay subtext on literally every scenes with Holtz and Erin, The Wink
™, The Dance™, The Bickering™, The Swiss Army Knife™
and so on..
SO what I mean to say here is: every ships in Ghostbusters (2016) are wonderful and whatever pairing you’re shipping, it is good and pure so please enjoy
Working desk job means exactly this: apartment, tube, workplace, tube, apartment. It’s hard to find sunlight anymore, but he doesn’t think he minds: maybe he’s already used to this. It’s been longer than he cares to remember.
He spends about two hours a day on the tube - not much compared to the amount of time he spends in his booth at work, but he doesn’t really register those eight hours. It’s like his mind switches itself off the moment he arrives to work and leaves him running on muscle memory alone. Time operates the same way when he’s at home, so by now maybe he’s only really conscious during the two hours on the tube.
Sometimes he stays back on the tube past his stop. Sometimes until it reaches the end of the line. Sometimes he takes the tube with the intention of going somewhere specific, but then just sits there as his destination flies past him into the dark tunnel he’s just passed. Sometimes he goes down into the stop, just to hear the quiet again.
Sometimes he sees maintenance doors somewhere in the tunnels, and for no reason he keeps their locations in mind.
Sometimes the tube takes a turn that he doesn’t recognize, and he feels his heart beating faster all of a sudden. He would stare at the railway through the window pane, counting the seconds, until the tube runs past a corner he knows, or until he reaches his destination. Those moments still happen to him after two years of taking the tube to go… anywhere, really. He thinks he has the whole map learned by heart by now, but the underground keeps proving him wrong.
There’s a community online for tube dwellers. He doesn’t know any of the dozen of members, online or offline, but he has come by some of them on other forums before. They don’t seem to be of any particular profile: there are men, there are women, ranged from 20 to maybe older than 50. The posts are few and far between, but some of them detail everything reachable by the tube. There are things even he doesn’t know.
He screenshots some of the posts and keeps the photos in a separate folder, for no particular reason.
The community hasn’t had a new activity for about three months by now. The members call themselves Rats. He checks through some of their personal pages on that site; the ones he checks have all been abandoned.
Maybe they’re tired of the lack of sunlight in the tube, he thinks on the way to work. The tube sways and trembles quietly, its hum fills the air. Humans aren’t made for the underground afterall.
concept of something vaguely formed in my head. I call it Rats of Spice City.
okay, so here’s my two cents on the matter, based on what i’ve seen and heard:
first off, i get the anger and disappointment. all of a sudden, this character that has been there since the very launch of the app has been changed without any forewarning or explanation, just like that. it was deceptive - here, download this update, oh, also we’re not going to tell you about the total face change of one of our oldest and most beloved characters. it makes sense to act somewhat outraged over it. i certainly am a bit angry over it, i loved the original james, but hereeee we go…
now im gonna play the devil’s advocate, i guess.
some of y’all need to chill. there’s being disappointed, confused, and mad - and then there’s acting like you’re solely being personally wronged by pixelberry here. that’s just unnecessary tbh. i GET that we want a concrete answer, preferably sooner than later, but still.
you figure, there was a reason for this change. they didn’t do it just to screw with people or because they wanted to start changing the designs of characters for fun. the most likely reason, one that i’ve been hearing about a bit here and there, was that michael b. jordan, whose likeness was used as james’s character, and his reps reached out to pixelberry requiring a face change, lest they face legal action. wanting to avoid a friggin lawsuit, they immediately complied and changed james’s face.
honestly, this makes a lot of sense in the situation. i’m only guessing here, too, but i imagine there may be some kind of legal stuff they may have to work around before they can give out a solid explanation either, for fear of muddling what they are saying/getting in more hot water when they want to avoid further conflict.
so, yeah, the situation sucks. a lot. it’s not ideal, and i don’t like it, either. i get where people are coming from with their anger. but just CHILL for five seconds before jumping to conclusions. lastly, give it some time to get sorted out, too?? it’s literally been less than 24 hours and yet someone of y’all are like “GIVE ME THOSE GODDAMN ANSWERS RIGHT NOW PIXELBERRY YOU STOLE MY FIRSTBORN CHILD AND NOW THIS??????????? TELL ME!!!!!!!!!” like it’s probably gonna get explained to some extent at the very least, just……….. relax.
hi hope ur having a good day! can you pls write some stenbrough hc's or a fic about when bill first gives stan his baseball jersey to wear and stan is all flustered and excited??? <3 ur writing makes me so happy !
“You cuh-c-can huh-have it if yuh-y-hou want.” Bill’s voice is quiet in the small space of his room, and Stan looks up from where he’s tracing the embroidery on his jersey. They’re in Bill’s small bedroom after the fifth game of his third season of baseball, supposedly doing homework, but really just sitting and talking, and Stan’s hand follows the sewn pattern of the patch that says 06 on it before he glances up and catches Bill’s eyes with his own.
“Gee, really, Bill? Can I?” Stan’s voice is tempered with eagerness and excitement, and he unconsciously balls a fist into the material.
Bill nods, his messy, slightly sweaty hair pieces falling out of place and across his face. Stan reaches up and absently fixes them, smoothing a hand over his boyfriend’s red waves and letting his hand fall to cup Bill’s freckled cheek, before dropping it all together. Bill practically nuzzled into the touch at how rare and nice it was. “Yuh-yeah, I m-m-mean, untuh-hil the next guh-g-game,” he replies after a moment, before he moves away from Stan, who flops against the bed when Bill leaves his post as a support pillar, and starts unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white long sleeved undertop, before tossing the shirt on top of Stan. The smaller boy scrambles up, taking the dirty shirt off of his head and inspecting it.
“Oh, GROSS,” Stan complains. “You put your dirty shirt on my head, that’s weird, Bill.”
Bill smiles at him in return, taking the shirt back delicately and starting to fold it. “Guh-huess you don’t w-wuh-want it th-then, do you?”
“No!” Stan reaches for the shirt, but Bill only holds it higher. “Give it!” Bill just laughs, backing up a bit, and soon enough Stan’s going en pointe just to reach the shirt.
He‘s still much too short, obviously, and Bill lowers the shirt to give back to his boyfriend before dropping it onto Stan’s fingertips and stepping backwards. “Thuh-th-there.” he grins at Stan’s indignant face. “Nuh-now you’ve got it.”
“I guess,” He huffs, folding it up and sliding it inside his backpack. Checking his watch, he blows a lock of hair out of his eye in a way that makes Bill’s heart flutter in a familiar way. “Aw, shoot, it’s closer to curfew than I thought. I gotta get home, Big Bill.”
He picks up his backpack, kissing Bill on the cheek absently before he starts heading out the door to his car.
And Bill flops back onto his bed, sighing a little and smiling at the feeling of Stan’s lips on his cheek. In a rare moment of weakness, he touches his hand to the spot where he was kissed.
The day had been great- he’d won the game, aced a quiz, gotten a kiss from Stan… Bill was a simple guy to please. There wasn’t much to it.
He’d find out the next day what a simple guy he was.
It really wasn’t all that good at first- Stan drove to school where Bill biked, they didn’t have the first few periods together- but come lunch break and Bill’s day got astronomically better.
The redhead was walking out of the mess hall with his vending-machine chips and soda in hand when he saw Stan sitting in his regular spot, waiting for Bill to come so they could find a spot to sit. They almost always sat on campus- they didn’t like the park much, anyways, but a bunch of the people they didn’t much need to be bothering with sat there. When Bill saw what Stan was wearing, though, he felt a wave of goosebumps
run up his arms.
Stan was in his uniform shirt.
Why was Bill surprised by this? He scolded himself. Obviously Stan was going to wear it, he gave it to him. Shirts were meant to be worn.
He guessed he just didn’t figure Stan would look so good in it.
It wasn’t the right size, that’s for sure. Not even close. The sleeves went down to his elbows and the bottom grazed the middle of his thigh, and it was like a tent on Stan’s tiny shoulders and chest and waist- everything, really. Stan was a tiny guy. It hung off of him like wet clothes on a line.
It certainly wasn’t anything like his usual fitted, slim-cut button ups with slacks or corduroy pants that were wonderfully complimentary of his figure, but it looked just as good as them over his khaki shorts. God, Bill thought, snorting a little, Stan always had looked so preppy in those shorts- he hadn’t worn them for years, not since
(since he almost died his face was so covered in blood you can still see the scars oh my god where are the scars now where did they go)
middle school, but you could hardly see them under the shirt. He wasn’t wearing a visible baseball undershirt, but he’d buttoned it up all the way so it barely hinted at collarbone. His hair matched the whole just-got-out-of-bed aesthetic, too, Bill though lovingly, longing to run his hands through the messy nest of curls on Stan’s head. It was obviously done with the intention of looking undone. It even looked tousled.
“Hey, kuh-k-kid,” Bill greeted, taking Stan’s hand and helping him up, reciprocating the little smile Stan was giving him.
“Heya, Bill.” Stan looked down at himself, his curls flopping upside down with the rest of his head, and he glanced up at Bill, his smile growing into a mischievous grin. “Like my shirt?”
Bill frowned slightly. “Nuh-not your shuh-sh-shirt. It’s muh-m-m-hine.” He tugged at the hem. “You’re juh-just b-b-borrowing it.”
“Whatever you say Bill,” Stan replied, rolling his eyes affectionately. “But do you like it?”
The redhead looked down at the smaller boy, surveying him with surgical care he didn’t really need. “Yuh-yeah,” He said finally. “Thuh-there’s only wuh-wuh-one thing.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Ih-it s-s-says Denbrough on the buh-b-back, right?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Stan’s eyes darted around Bill’s face for a clue of what he meant, but Bill only smiled.
“Ih-it just looks a l-little like…” He trailed off. “Luh-like you sp-spuh-spent the night over and nuh-needed a chuh-change.” Bill walked on in silence, leaving Stan confused.
Stanley jogged up after him, not used to the speed, holding onto Bill’s shoulder and asking, “so? Who cares?” He kept walking on his tippy toes, forcing Bill down a little into a slouch as he talked. “I’ve slept over at your house before school before.”
“Y-y-yeah,” Bill practically hissed. “Buh-huh-hut not coming to scuh-scuh-school the day after in m-my cluh-hothes, Stah-hanley.”
The confused look on Stan’s face shifted, and his hands went to his trim waist and settled on his tips. “Oh,” he said with a grin. “So that’s what’s up with you.” He straightened the shirt and grabbed Bill’s hand, mussing up his hair with his free one, and kept walking.
“S-s-s-so…” Bill trailed off. The shorter boy looked up at him with a smirk. “So, yuh-you’re okay with th-th-that?”
“Mhm!” Stan’s curls bobbed as he nodded and he pressed a quick kiss onto Bill’s jaw- the only place he could reach from so far below. “I love it, actually. I know why you were staring now, at least.”
“I wuh-wasn’t st-st-staring,” Bill mumbled, looking away. “I was j-j-just… ah-admiring.”
“Hm.” Stan looked up at his boyfriend, tapping his chin as if wondering something, like a detective. Bill felt his heart leap a little at how cute Stan looked like that. “Admiring isn’t what it looked like.”
Sighing in frustration, Bill looked back at the thin brunnet. “Ih-it’s what it wuh-wuh-was,” he responded, squeezing Stan’s hand. “I swuh-swuh-swear
(swear to me youll all come back swear it i swear bill i do i love you i love you i love)
th-that’s all it w-w-was.” He was more earnest now, wanting to make it clear to Stanley he respected him and would never treat him like a pretty thing to look at and not to talk to, loved him enough to treat him with decency.
Stan chewed his lip, looking at Bill in thought, before breaking out in a new smile and bumping his hip playfully.
“It’s okay, Bill,” He said happily. “I’m glad you looked.”
And the way Stan’s hair gleamed in the late summer sun and his frame looked so dwarfed and lovely in his jacket (oh how Bill loved he could say it was his), Bill was glad he looked, too.