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charincharge · 4 years

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I Don’t Want To Wait, seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

Sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie!

“I’m never drinking again,” Aelin moaned as she rolled over on Lysandra’s bed, shoving her head under the pillow. She knew Rowan had censored himself filling in the gaps of her night. Saying she was an angry drunk, though accurate, was not quite specific enough.

Apparently, she and Rowan had had a screaming match in the kitchen that he failed to mention, and Aelin had zero recollection of.

“The entire kitchen cleared out,” Lysandra explained, “Lyria included. But you were… pretty loud.”

Aelin groaned into the pillow.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Lysandra patted Aelin’s foot, trying to be comforting, but Aelin didn’t want to be comforted right now. She kicked Lysandra’s hand away.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lysandra snorted and poked her bare foot. “At least he thought you were talking about someone else?”

Aelin peeked out from beneath the pillow and frowned again. “That is so much worse. Now he thinks I’m mad at him for not letting me kiss NOX OWEN.”

“What else was he supposed to think? You can’t exactly blame him. You smacked his drink out of his hand and started screeching about how he ruined your kissing plans.”

“As if I’d ever have a chance with Nox. I barely even have a chance with Rowan, and he’s been my best friend since we were eight.” Aelin sighed loudly. “Whatever. Everything is ruined now. He’s going to prom with Lyria.”

Lysandra frowned, the pity evident in her bright green eyes as she flopped down next to Aelin on her comforter. “I’m sorry, boo.”

“Tell me one more time,” Aelin sighed. “Exactly what we both said. Every word.”

“In the kitchen?”

Aelin nodded.

“You stared at Lyria’s hand for like… a full ten seconds. Then you smacked the drink out of Rowan’s hand, and screamed – Where’s my drink, bitch? And he very calmly said, What the fuck, Aelin? Because… you know. The drink spilled all over the floor. Then you screamed at the top of your lungs, I NEEDED ANOTHER DRINK, AND YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. And he did that eyebrow thing you hate and asked, What did I ruin? And then you screamed back KISSING PLANS. That’s when the kitchen started emptying out.” Aelin groaned.

“It’s so much worse hearing it again.”

Lysandra paused. “Do you want me to repeat the rest?” And Aelin nodded tentatively. It was masochistic, but she needed to hear it all again.

Lysandra sighed loudly, knowing the worst was about to happen. “You fucking raged, Aelin. You incoherently started screaming – I HAD KISSING PLANS. AMAZING REAL FIRST KISS PLANS AND YOU RUINED THEM BY GETTING DISTRACTED.” She crinkled her nose at that. “And it looked like Rowan was going to say something, but you just kept going on and on about your ruined kissing plans. You called him an idiot….” Aelin cringed. She couldn’t believe how belligerent she was. “And then you screamed, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME BACK WITH MY DRINK. THE DRINK WAS INTEGRAL TO MY KISSING PLAN. Which, by the way, nice SAT vocab drop while you were blackout drunk. That was impressive.”

Aelin couldn’t do anything more than flick off her friend. She was too busy berating herself for all the stupid things she didn’t remember saying when she was drunk. She’d been this close to telling Rowan she’d planned to kiss him. And she’d said FIRST KISS. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before – she totally had. There’d been several games of truth or dare which included kisses and a braces-filled makeout session at Camp Terrasen in eighth grade. She’d just meant their first kiss. She wanted to die.

“Then he got really mad himself and screamed back at you that you should have told him about your kissing plans, so he didn’t ruin your night. And you screamed back it didn’t matter since it was already ruined and clearly you could get your own drink.”

“I think that’s when he realized you’d had a little too much to drink that he’d clearly missed. And he sought out Nox, who explained the drink chugging, and while that happened, you literally chugged another drink and then launched yourself at Salvaterre.”

“I have to apologize,” Aelin said, but Lysandra shook her head.

“He didn’t bring it up for a reason.” Lysandra softened her eyes, running her hand through Aelin’s freshly showered hair. “I think once you punched Lorcan he chocked everything up to wasted nonsense.”

Aelin shoved her face into Lysandra’s pillow and let out a low laugh. What a nightmare. “I’m just grateful you and Elide were there to change me,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my embarrassment if Rowan had to peel me out of puke-covered clothes.”

“Yeah, you owe us for that one.”

Aelin’s mouth dropped in shock. “You left me to sleep on the bathroom floor!”

Lysandra laughed. “Only because you scissor kicked Rowan in the knee when he and Wes tried to take you up the stairs.” She looked at Aelin. “He’s not mad at you, Ace. He was going to let you sleep in his bed. Puke-covered and all.”

Aelin rolled onto her back. “But he’s going to prom with Lyria,” Aelin repeated again.

“She’s nice,” Lysandra quipped, causing Aelin to glare at her. “But she’s not you.” Aelin’s lips quirked upward at that. “He’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, letting Aelin breathe a sigh of relief. She really hoped Lysandra’s assessment was true. “Or he won’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome, bitch.”

Lysandra paused, her green eyes soft and nervous instead of holding their usual brash confidence as she continued. “I know you and Rowan are special best friends with, like, a special best friend song and everything.”

“We do not have a special best friend song?” Aelin interrupted, causing Lysandra to laugh and boop her nose softly.

“You do. It’s ‘Dancing In The Moonlight,’ which is adorable, but not my point.”

“And that is…?”

“I know I’ll never be Rowan, but I’m still a best friend, and if you need to talk about things… you can tell me. Especially if they’re Rowan things.”

Aelin bit her lip and breathed nervously. “I’m glad you know.”

“Oh, babe,” Lysandra laughed, rubbing Aelin’s shoulder softly. “I’ve known about your feelings for years. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

Aelin groaned and shoved her head under the pillow again.

~*~

Dear journal,

I don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know Lysandra KNOWS now, but I just need to vent to someone impartial, okay? Things with Rowan are so weird… because they’re not weird at all. After Lys told me what I screamed at him, I was sure he’d finally come out and clear the air, but it’s been a WHOLE WEEK, and he hasn’t said anythingggg. Everything is just…. normal??? He even let me keep the lacrosse sweatshirt Lys and El put me in. I tried to give it back, but he told me it was mine now. What the hell is THAT about? What does it mean?

I want to tell him I know about the fight, but then I’d have to explain I was screaming about kissing him, and I don’t know if he wants to hear that anymore.

All I know is that every time I look at him I feel like I’m about to explode. Not to mention I’m about to go suit shopping with him for ~PROM~ and I’m kind of freaking out. What is Rowan in a TUX going to do to my body? I might just combust there on the spot. Maybe he’s right. I should ask Lys to teach me how to … you know (masturbate). I tried to watch a video (I KNOW), but I got a million pop ups and got too nervous and shut my laptop off. Maybe I should look on my phone next time. Do phones get pop ups?

UGH OKAY. HE’S HERE. WISH ME LUCK.

Xo, Aelin

5/21/20 – age 16

Aelin slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her stack of decoy notebooks in her nightstand just before Rowan appeared in her doorway.

“Ready to go, Ace?”

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head, shaking out her hand, which was cramped from writing so neatly in her journals.

“Don’t you want to bring a jacket?” Rowan asked, looking at Aelin’s bared stomach pointedly.

“It’s almost June, Buzzard, don’t be such a prude,” she answered, her arms self-consciously crossing over the chest of her cropped t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, leading them back downstairs, and Aelin grabbed her purse and followed. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too cold.”

“I would never,” she gasped, feigning shock. “And don’t forget you owe me post-shopping ice cream.”

“Oh, bring me back a pint of chocolate peanut butter,” Rhoe called out from the kitchen, his blue eyes peering out from behind the giant pages of the Orynth Times.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Aelin called out, passing by the kitchen with a wave.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aelin doubled back and peered into the kitchen where her exhausted looking dad sat. “Rowan is taking you shopping? Has hell frozen over? Rowan, how did you get conned into this?”

Aelin looked up at Rowan, who scratched his head uncomfortably. “She’s actually taking me shopping. I need a tux for prom…” Rowan trailed off, his cheeks turning slightly pink as Rhoe returned a surprised look at the child who was practically his surrogate son.

“Ae, do you need a dress?” he asked, suddenly looking worried. Her dad would give her the moon if he could, but supporting a daughter on a firefighter’s single salary was often more than he could manage.

“Oh, no,” Aelin shook her head, carefully concealing her hurt feelings with a devilish smirk. “Rowan got asked to junior prom.”

Rhoe’s eyes widened, flickering between his daughter and Rowan rapidly, before smiling softly. “An older woman, eh?”

“It’s not like that…” Rowan grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at the ground at his well-worn running sneakers. “I barely know her. I just said yes to be polite…”

“Sure, Buzzard,” Aelin said, poking Rowan’s side. He frowned at her unhappily, flicking her finger away.

Rhoe barked out a loud laugh. “Have fun, you two.” He fixed Aelin with a serious stare. “Make sure he picks out something really embarrassing, kiddo.” His stare broke as he winked, sending them off on their way, Rowan rushing out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Oh yeah,” Aelin laughed. “I’m putting him in blue ruffles first.”

“You are not!” Rowan called from outside, already starting up the jeep.

Aelin waved goodbye to her dad and hopped into the passenger seat, cranking up her mix, which was still playing in Rowan’s car.

~*~

“I look stupid,” Rowan whined, shoving his hands into the pockets of the umpteenth different styled tux the shop attendant had pulled for him. This one was black, again, but some kind of shiny material, and the pants had a stripe up the side.

Aelin couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at her lips at how picky her best friend was being. She honestly assumed the boy who mostly lived in athletic shorts and t-shirts would be fine with the first suit he tried on, but he was being finnicky and far too particular for someone who “just said yes to be polite.” And it was starting to get on her nerves. What she thought was going to be an exercise in sexual restraint was actually just trying her patience.

“Shiny, no good!” the salesman agreed, his accent curling thickly around his criticism.

Rowan sighed and turned to look at Aelin, who did her hardest to neutralize her facial expression before he saw her frown, but it was too late.

“I knew it,” Rowan grumbled, peeling the jacket off and handing it to the salesman, who cleared out the full dressing room again, and Aelin gnawed at her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“It’s not bad…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ace.”

“Language!” the salesman snapped, and Rowan’s mood lifted for a brief second as he laughed in shock, his eyes going straight to Aelin, as if to say Can you believe this guy? She shook her head in agreement, and she was relieved to see a smile on his face for the first time in two hours.

Aelin pushed herself off the small chair in the communal dressing room space and approached Rowan. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes shamelessly trail his form. He was right about this particular suit. It did look stupid. But none of the suits, all in differing shades and cuts of black, had looked right. As her gaze trailed back up to his face, his breath held, patiently waiting for her conclusion, Aelin had a stroke of genius.

“Black isn’t your color, Ro. It’s washing you out.” Rowan’s face scrunched at her assessment, clearly unpleased. But the stark contrast between the white and black, combined with his pale hair was doing something to his usually tanned and glowing skin, and it wasn’t good.

“I refuse to wear a light blue suit,” he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not something bright. Just… subtle color,” Aelin explained, and the salesman started nodding rapidly.

“Ah, yes, the Bellissima is correct. Color. Yes, color! COLOR!”

He excitedly ran back into the shop and returned with suits in various dark shades of navy and emerald and maroon slung over his shoulder. Aelin watched in amusement as he shoved Rowan back into the dressing room, telling him to try the green first.

Aelin stood impatiently, arms crossed and leaning against one of the 360 mirrors, hoping against all hopes that her assessment was correct. She wasn’t sure she could endure another two hours of this. Another five minutes would be bad enough, to be honest.

When Rowan walked out to the small platform, she knew she’d nailed itt. Her pulse thrummed loudly, and she could feel her lips part, inhaling a large gasp into her drying mouth. Rowan looked…

“Wow,” Aelin whispered at the same time Rowan said, “Huh,” peering into the mirror.

Aelin stood up straighter, pushing herself up and getting a closer view of the striking boy in front of her. The green was so dark, it just barely contrasted with the black lapels and trim of the suit, but the color brough a warmth to his face that had been missing, the green of his irises prominent beneath his long blonde lashes. Those bright eyes peered over at Aelin, searching for her reaction, and she couldn’t help the soft blush that appeared across her skin as they locked with hers.

Rowan cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he smoothed the jacket out, pulling the lapels gently. “Uh, yeah. Good call, Ace.”

Aelin lifted her long hair into a high bun, needing something to do with herself besides stare and to allow the breeze of the store fan to cool the back of her neck.

“The one!” the salesman cooed, running his hands across Rowan’s broad shoulders proudly. “We did it!”

When Aelin looked back up, she was surprised to see Rowan’s eyes still on her, gauging her reaction with curiosity. He raised a blonde brow in her direction, and Aelin was afraid for a second that she was going to launch herself at him right there and kiss his face.

Instead swallowed loudly and clapped her hands, shaking off the intensity of his gaze and smiled broadly. “About time, Buzzard. Now, let’s go get me some ice cream.”

The moment was broken as Rowan rolled his eyes and made his way back into the changing room, slinging the suit over the door as Aelin exhaled and slumped back into the chair for a brief reprieve.

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Aelin chanted as Rowan paid for the tux rental.

Rowan slung his arm over Aelin’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Fine. You earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Aelin said, as the salesperson shouted, “Language!” at them again, as they ran out of the store, both giggling.

By the time they reached their favorite ice cream spot, the sun had set, and the swift down current breeze of the Staghorn Mountains had started up, cooling the temperature significantly from the balmy afternoon Aelin had dressed for.

She looked out at the dark water, shivering slightly as she took her first bite of mint chocolate chip. Rowan bit back a smile as he wrapped his hoodie around himself tighter, keeping the winds out, happily eating his cookie dough without danger of freezing to death.

On her third bite, Aelin finally broke. “Oh come on, Buzzard, sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie.”

“I told you to bring your jacket!” Rowan laughed just as a particularly strong gust cut against Aelin’s exposed skin, making her shudder. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snorted, opening up the hoodie and nodding to her. “Get in here.”

“Really?” she asked, teeth chattering.

“You’re the worst,” he joked as he unzipped his hoodie and held it open, and Aelin practically raced into it. Rowan’s smile grew as he zipped the hoodie back up, which shockingly stretched large enough to fit them both. Just barely. Aelin pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his warmth as his free hand rubbed her back. She shivered again, but this time having nothing to do with the cold, warmth and desire radiating through her body as she felt every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling happily into her next bite of ice cream. She savored each bite, not wanting the moment to end too soon. Each bite tasting better than the last, surrounded in Rowan’s grasp and heat. She breathed in, his heady scent filling her head, his embrace feeling so perfect around her. Her stomach calmed, everything suddenly feeling so right.

“Thanks, Ace,” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. “I know that’s not how you wanted to spend your Saturday.”

Aelin finished her last bite and leaned harder into his warm chest. “I don’t care how we spend our Saturdays,” Aelin admitted. “As long as we’re hanging out.”

“Cool,” Rowan said, sounding so lame that Aelin couldn’t help but laugh, and she could feel him hiding his own smile in her hair. “Okay, we have to get back into the car,” he laughed outright, his hands rubbing circles onto her back, and Aelin shook her head into his shirt. No, she wanted to stay just like this forever.

“I’ll freeze to death!” she countered instead.

“We’ll just have to make a run for it. I don’t plan on losing you tonight, Ace.” Aelin groaned, but Rowan knew he’d won. “On the count of three,” he warned her. “One… two…” On three, he unzipped the hoodie, and Aelin screeched, her voice raising to glass shattering levels as she sprinted towards the jeep, wind whipping through her thin t-shirt and cutting against her warmed skin like ice.

Rowan unlocked the jeep as they ran, and they both launched themselves into their seats simultaneously, joyful laughter bubbling up in both of them and filling the car.

Aelin watched Rowan as he turned the car on, and immediately cranked up the heat. Her stomach fluttered again, and she crossed her legs to quell the ache of desire that had begun to take over her body.

As stealthily as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Lysandra again.

I need some help.

Her phone lit up with Lysandra’s returning message almost immediately. XYZ kind of help???

Aelin snorted at the use of Rowan’s code name. Lysandra had suggested if Aelin ever wanted to talk about Rowan in text, she probably shouldn’t use his name. Just in case he ever saw. Aelin had immediately suggested his initials, RW, but Lysandra smartly pointed out he was the only RW they knew. Lysandra cackled, suggesting XYZ – because it came right after W. And with any luck, Aelin would be coming soon.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed as she texted back. Can you teach me/instruct me/explain how to masturbate?

OMG!!!!! MY BABY BUTTERFLY, YES YES YES GIRLLLLL!!!

Aelin laughed softly, and Rowan looked at her curiously, from her cheeks to the phone lit up in her hand.

“Who could you possibly be texting right now?” he asked, and if Aelin didn’t know better she would have thought he maybe sounded slightly put out.

“Lysandra,” she answered, a little too quickly, but her heart was beating too fast at the inappropriate back and forth she and Lys were having, especially since she wanted to fantasize about the person sitting right next to her while she… learned.

“What about?” Rowan asked, curious.

Aelin bit her lip. “You were right,” she said, her face probably beet red. She was grateful he couldn’t entirely see the color in the dark.

“About what?” he asked. “I mean, I’m often right about a lot of things,” he added cheekily.

“Masturbation,” Aelin replied as confidently as she could, while feeling like her skin was going to burn her alive. The car swerved slightly as Rowan snapped his head to look in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and high.

“Lysandra’s going to teach me.”

Aelin could feel her best friend’s gaze puncturing holes into her flaming cheeks as he searched for something to say. But when she looked up, she couldn’t speak fast enough.

“ROWAN!” she shouted as the jeep crashed straight into the taillights of the car in front of them.

~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes

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zhansww · 3 years

Text

I’ve been wondering how exactly the misunderstanding of my last rambling post came to be and I think it’s cuz of one of two things; cuz I didn’t make it clear what I consider the word “queer” to mean or cuz I didn’t make it clear that the post itself was my own, subjective opinion. I’m not sure how consistent I’ve been with tagging it but I kinda differentiate between (what I think are) rational opinions I have vs emotional ones. The latter ones are obviously subjective and should not be taken as me, lecturing anyone or implying that everyone should feel the same. You either share the same sentiment or you don’t, there’s nothing wrong with it either way. And if my words in those posts seem hostile/condescending, it’s cuz I don’t feel the need to censor any of my subjective views/feelings. What I do think is important and what I try to pay attention to is not to let the negative emotions that certain things evoke in me control my actions. When I see something that I disapprove of in any way, I don’t hijack that post or report it. If my emotional reaction is particular strong, I’ll vent about it in my own post, not theirs. I considered this to be the decent thing to do but I’ve been told by at least one kind, respectful and open-minded person that I am actively making people’s lives worse with those posts, that my words are violent and that my behavior is that of an “unhinged monster” (the irony here is not lost on me). So I’ve been reflecting and I think the next time I feel a particular strong, negative emotion that makes me want to vent, I’ll put a disclaimer beforehand. And now, let me just actually clarify what my point was of that post. I believe that yz is real so I obviously do not assume they are straight. If they are indeed together, then they are queer - i.e. not straight - but that’s literally it. I have no theories or thoughts about what their specific orientation might be and I won’t ever speculate about that either. I wouldn’t mind knowing but unfortunately, they can’t be openly together right now but when they someday are, they’ll hopefully also feel safe and loved enough to share something like that with us. I know for a fact that figuring out your sexuality is a confusing and intimate process which is why I am opposed to speculating about it. I consider it to be too intrusive. But again; that is my subjective opinion based on my own experiences. I do not expect everyone to share this sentiment. One person said that I should expect such speculation and that might be true, maybe I should expect it but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Seeing certain bxg get mad at solos for assuming yz are straight but then turn around and assume they are [insert any specific sexuality except het] is hypocritical and disappointing in my opinion. I think it’s perfectly fine to have such emotional opinions as long as you don’t let those emotions cloud your judgement and lead to you, reacting in a way that is unreasonable and possibly harmful. I also think that everyone should be willing to have their rational opinions questioned but when it comes to an emotional opinion, it doesn’t have to make sense and it’s probably not gonna change either. To give another example; I hk disapprove of yz r/p/f. And that’s not me, saying it is inherently wrong and that no one should do it. In fact, you could try to make a case about how I should like it and approve of it but it wouldn’t make me change my mind precisely because this opinion is not based on logic but just on emotion. And again, as long my emotional reaction to something doesn’t lead to unreasonable actions, then the emotion itself is alright to have. And like I already said, I thought it was okay to vent those emotions in my safe space but apparently, it isn’t. No one should take those posts personally or like I’m talking to them or lecturing them. I thought that this was all obvious but since I got told otherwise, I will be more concise from now on.

You know, when someone starts a “discussion” by insulting you (implicitly or not), that’s usually a clear sign that they’re not even trying to understand you. I’ve seen at least one person reblog the reblogs and seemingly take some kind of vicious pleasure in seeing someone else sh-t on me. Something like that leads me to think that they already had a negative impression of me to begin with which is why their minds gladly misunderstood me and jumped to the worst possible conclusion. They also all seemed to either ignore my explanations or seemed intent on misunderstanding me, no matter what. To be clear, I don’t blame them entirely for it because I could have expressed my point better but for them to immediately think their misunderstanding is the right one - instead of asking me to explain myself perhaps - is also wrong. Mind you, I don’t expect those people to see or care about this post. The main reason I’m trying to clarify myself is for myself. I said I’ll try to be more concise in expressing my views (regardless of whether it’s a subjective one or not) from now on and I thought I should let this be the start of that. There was one reply in particular that ... affected me a lot harder than I thought anything could. I think it’s cuz my depression already makes me feel like I’m a waste of space 24/7. One thing I take comfort in, though, is the fact that, at the very least, the only one who’s hurting because of it is me, no one else. At least I don’t hurt others. But I got told otherwise. I got called an unhinged monster. The unhinged part is true but also being a monster... it made me feel like I’m less than a waste of space. Like, let’s say if normal people always feel like a 1, I always feel like a 0. Getting insulted like that made me feel like a -1. Instead of feeling like a read newspaper, that’s just waiting to get thrown in the trash, that insult made me feel like I’m the asbestos in the house, something that is actively harmful and you need to get rid of. Does that make sense? Anyway... I engaged in “discussions” despite my better judgement and now, I have to pay the price for it so I also decided that I won’t do that again. Hopefully, there won’t even be any more misunderstandings but if there are and someone hijacks my posts and insults and/or willfully misunderstands me, I will just block them. For my own sanity. And for the record, if there’s something in this or any of my subjective/emotional posts that can be misunderstood, that I didn’t make clear enough; please feel free to ask me about it. Please don’t immediately think the worst of me. And when it comes to my more objective/rational opinions, I am always open for discussions as long as we can remain respectful throughout.

I would also like to express my gratitude to anyone who reached out. I’m not sure if the damage can be undone to be honest (it doesn’t feel like it right now) but anyone who offered words of advice, understanding, support or kindness helped soften it. I cannot express how grateful and appreciative I am for it all, any replies or private messages. You helped make me feel less shitty and I thank you so so much. I’m definitely gonna save all the mental health advice cuz I really did not know how to deal with that overwhelming desire to... stop existing in that moment and I want to keep it in mind if (or when) I get affected this badly by something again. I intend to also reply to the messages privately ofc but for now, please accept all of my love and gratitude~

I’m gonna put the rest - which is more personal - under a cut and also tw cuz I’ll elaborate on my mental health/depression. This isn’t exactly something I want to share tbh but I think I shouldn’t shy away from it either. And I feel like I need to explain myself, just for anyone who cares to know.

—

If you compare life to walking on a path, then I at some point - I don’t even remember when - stopped walking and starting digging a hole for myself. It musta been years ago. Right now, that hole is so deep that I have no idea how to get out of it on my own, much less how to move forward. I think I always knew that there must be something wrong with me mentally. This isn’t something that is being talked about in my family, though, so I never extensively thought about it. Not until earlier this year, when my sister told me that she thinks I’m sick and I should see a therapist. My immediate reaction was to reject the idea but I really couldn’t do that for long. As of right now, I have been tentatively diagnosed (not sure if that’s what you call it in English) with depression but I haven’t actually found a permanent therapist and therefore also not started therapy yet. I have no idea what exactly is wrong with me and this not-knowing makes it somehow worse. I haven’t been properly functioning for the past two days - ever since I got called unhinged monster - cuz those words are burned into my brain by now and keep repeating themselves. It feels like my mind was given another weapon to slowly k-ll me with. It keeps reminding me that that’s what I am and then I start trembling and my breathing gets weird and it’s harder than usual for me to distract myself. And this is all so overwhelming for me, I have truly no idea how to deal with any of it. I don’t even know if I named it right, if it really is called a “depressive episode”. I’m hoping I’ll get to find out what exactly is wrong with me and how I can cope with it once I find a therapist. My lack of knowledge regarding what I myself am going through makes it all very confusing and difficult. Another reason why I kind of organized my thoughts and wrote them all down here is cuz I hope it will help me somehow, make my mind stop letting those really bad thoughts in. But in that moment when I felt especially f-cked up, any words of advice or kindness helped. I hope everyone who reached out knows that. Just... thank you. So damn much.

#long post #personal #about me #depression tw #text

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tomorrowsdrama · 3 years

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I personally think the nitpicking complainers got a prejudice against Zhang Ziyi. So they complain about anything on this drama when in the meanwhile Cent have been serving them idol costume shows where the OTP's don't have 10% of Awu and Xiso Qi's maturity, growth, sensuality etc... They say it is tropey but I challenge anyone and tell me 99,99% of cdramas (even dramas in general) are not tropey. A youtube reviewer called it tropey and teared it apart while that person was calling "hypnotic love" or "Eternal love S1 & 2" (kings of trope dramas) "masterpieces".

I really don’t understand the level of hate it’s gotten. I’ve only really known ZZY from the movie roles I’ve seen her in, but whenever I chance upon an article about her, it is 9 times out of 10 something negative. I guess Chinese media/netizens have a hate boner for her. I don’t know much about her outside of her acting roles so I can’t say whether it’s justified or not, but that shouldn’t matter when we’re talking about her acting.

Reading YouTube comments will only make you lose brain cells trying to find any logic or reason buried under all the hate/ignorance and/or give you high blood pressure, so I tend to just ignore them. The comments don’t affect my life anyway so why subject myself to the stupidity. I’m not THAT masochistic lol.

I haven’t seen hypnotic love or eternal love 1/2 so I can’t comment on how tropey they are, but being tropey isn’t necessarily a bad thing if done well, which I believe rebel princess achieves. Tropes exist and are popularized for a reason. Although, there are some very questionable tropes that should not have existed in the first place and should die out quick...

Some people love watching young pretty idol actors give their best impressions of what a wooden plank would look like if it came to life and had to interact with humans, and that’s perfectly fine. There’s something out there for everyone and the great thing is, if it’s not my vibe, i can easily just not watch it. Maybe some of these commenters should try that out sometime. But haters gonna hate, hate, hate.

At the end of the day, i understand that it’s all subjective and comes down to personal taste. What I don’t understand is why rebel princess, which is objectively average on its worst day, is getting the level of hate and “criticisms” it’s getting. The costumes are luxe and beautiful (at least to me), the cinematography is beautiful, the actors all range from competent to great, and even if there are some holes in the plot (probably from being cut down by the censors), it’s largely a cohesive story with great otp moments and battle scenes. I’ve just accepted that it is what it is. As long as the hate doesn’t affect the actual drama episodes (which I believe it won’t) it doesn’t really change my enjoyment of the series.

Anyways, thanks for reading my thesis on why the internet hates ZZY/the rebel princess 😂

#asks #monarch industry #the rebel princess #cdrama

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paipayaseeds · 3 years

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she hadn’t been asleep for very long before stirring awake again, but she didn’t move. scratch that, she couldn’t move because of how tight she was being held. a salter...? like a salt shaker? she wondered what they were talking about. she also wondered what shuichi’s plan was to help them escape. kiibo was right, it wasn’t good for him to be around her right now. she’d just make him cry again, probably. their conversation continued, but was cut short when fumiko tried wrapping her arms around the robot to let him know she was awake. he stopped mid-sentence and looked down, loosening his grip which allowed her to look up at him.

he felt anger rise within him, she wouldn’t have woken up if it weren’t for shuichi. however, he couldn’t scold anyone when he saw the awkward smile she gave him. she lifted herself up, kiibo staring at the detective the whole time. the room was pretty much silent until—

*snap*

miko looked in the direction the noise came from: her feet. she was met with the realization that she had stepped on her mask, breaking it. shakily, she backed up and crouched back down, reaching a hand out to pick up a lens that had been popped out of its frame. tears welled in her one eye and fell down her face, but no noises came from her aside from the shuffling of the pieces on the ground. the accessory was split into three pieces, along with some smaller parts that had fallen off, beyond fixing. why...? even if she was under the impression that this would be her last day alive, it was still devastating. she was defenseless without the two things that made her feel safe in this school: shuichi’s company and now... her mask.

everything felt like it was going in slow motion. she but her lip hard to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape her throat. kiibo looked at her in concern before taking her hands and standing them both up. he shot a glare at shuichi as he walked out of the library with fumiko, hand in hand, leaving what was once her mask on the ground.

little did they know, that wouldn’t be the worst thing they found on the floor of the library that day.

the robot tucked her into her bed before grabbing a chair (that was conveniently there for the sake of plot) and sitting, watching her.... watching her sleep. it was creepy, yes, but he had no ill intent. if anyone were to knock, he’d basically tell them to ‘fuck off’ before closing the door in their face. she was having a rough day, and he just wanted her to relax. he didn’t really understand the reason why, he just did.

Shuichi flinched away from K1B0, out-stretched hand faltering as he stepped back from K1B0′s glare. More than anything, had he wanted his hat back at that moment. That look of pure hatred, it wasn't something Shuichi could ever get used to, and the mere glare hit him especially hard.

God, how he wanted to just run to her, hug her and tell her everything was okay, she was beautiful without the mask—but he didn’t have the right to do that. Not anymore. He was the one who betrayed her trust and saw her face without permission, despite promising that he wouldn’t.

A frown found its way onto Shuichi’s face as he watched them walk away, the guilt, if it hadn't already crushed his heart, had been practically stomping on it. Several times.

Tsumigi's dress couldn't come any sooner, could it? He sighed, scratching the top of his head as he walked back to Kaede, holding out his hand for her to give him the camera to set up. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, not really… Ready yet.

They set up the cameras in silence, nothing, not even a word uttered from Shuichi as Kaede tried her best to lighten up the mood. He'd be lying if it didn't help, however; even if it had just been a little.

Shortly after they made their way back upstairs to the classroom, Shuichi still couldn't kick the almost instinctual feeling to check on Fumiko. Kaede, seeing the worry on his face, frowned as she wasn't sure what to do.

She couldn't exactly tell him to, "Go for it, Saihara-kun!" because they still needed to watch the censors, despite wanting to just tell him to go—as it clearly affected him.

Instead, she settled for distracting him. But as soon as she opened her mouth, a shrill, blaring alarm started playing on the monitor. Both Kaede and Shuichi swung their heads to look in the direction of where the terrifying noise had been coming from.

"The time limit... It must be a warning." Shuichi concluded, voice slightly foreign as he hadn't talked until this moment. The taunting image of chess pieces made to represent the students showed several ways of how Monokuma planned to kill them.

Shuichi stared at the monitor for a long time, zoning out as his anxiety rose with each second that passed by. The guilt ate him up slowly but surely, until it finally crushed his entire being, and overtook his brain. "N- no..." Muttering to himself, he caught Kaede's attention.

"I- I have to check on Fumiko." Standing up from his seat, he held a determined, yet deathly worried expression on his face. Kaede's eyes widened, was he serious? Now?

"Shuichi- no! We have to stay! W- what if the mastermind—!?" Shuichi shook his head frantically, "I- I'll be quick! I swear, I... I just need to check if she's okay! A- and then I'll come straight back! Sh-she doesn't like loud noises, um, at least I don't think so..." His mind replayed the scene to when he yelled at Kokichi; the scene that wouldn't leave his mind no matter how hard he tried to shove it away and push it down into the deepest parts of his mind.

"Shuichi..."

With a small, distracted apology, he sprinted out of the classroom and to the dormitories, unknowingly taking the censor with him.

K1B0 perked up at the monitor, resisting the urge to smash the damn thing as the possibility of it waking Fumiko up, had been way too high. A cold dread settled at the bottom of K1B0's stomach(?), was this... the end? He felt a bit fidgety, feeling as if he needed to do something to prevent this from happening—but as he focused his eyes back on the girl again, he concluded he would protect her, nothing would ever be able to happen to her. Not on his wat-

A loud knock echoed throughout the dorm room, interrupting the robot's train of thought. Shuichi honestly had no idea if anyone had even been inside, but it was the first place he thought to check. And as K1B0 unwillingly opened the door, it seemed he had guessed right. Shuichi sighed in relief, today must've been his lucky day.

"K- K1B0, she's okay, right-?" The door slammed in his face.

Ah.

#tell me if i need to rewrite it!!!!! i had a different route in mind- so i can totally make this go another way if you want me to!!! >:0000 #mod chia #rp #teapot anon #i was gonna make kaito and tenko go up to the dorm room and ask if they wanted to help fight monokuma—#im still balancing whether i should write like #an alternate #just in case-

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iatheia · 3 years

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EDA reviews Part 6 - books 47-55

Previous part 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5

47) The Slow Empire - Uh, couldn't really follow this one at all. There are books when the first person narration works, but not here - too many jumps in setting, too little connective tissue, most of it told from the POV of a person who is barely connected to the protagonists? And that's even before they started repeating chunks of text wholesale between various parts - and I couldn't figure out if it was intended, or if it is the ebook was acting out on me. More than half way through the book, I still couldn't entirely tell what the story is supposed to be about, or if the plot has even started yet. Even having finished it, I find myself somewhat aghast. There are a few glimpses of something interesting, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what. 4/10

48) Dark Progeny - Also not really feeling it. It's not a bad story, but I do rather prefer a Doctor Who story to actually feature the Doctor and the companions front and center, whether they are POV characters or not. Here, though, they are barely in it - it's even more egregious than the previous one in actually giving the supposed protagonists stuff to do, and even on rare occasions we do switch back to them, it is all pretty generic. Anji developing telepathic abilities and the Doctor trying to calm her down all the while Fitz is freaking out in the background? Yes, please, more of that. Following around 20 interchangeable OCs that have nothing to do with the trio? No thank you. 6/10.

49) The City of the Dead - If you are invoking magic in a sci-fi universe, you need to be able to handwave it. It doesn't need to be awfully complex, "something something aliens, something something energy" is usually enough, but without it, you can't just throw magic about willy nilly. There are rules.

There are moments when it is a beautiful story, evoking a lot of dream-like wonder, and if it managed to remain a hazy dream, it probably would have been better for it. At the same time there is something very uncomfortably cynical about it, to the degree it left a bad taste in my mouth. There is a narrow line between not shying away from the ugliness of the world and deliberately making something ugly just for the sake of it, and often it felt like it was leaning towards the latter. Dunno, I started out wanting to like it, and feeling rather conflicted about it, but by the end became utterly indifferent. 7/10

50) Grimm Reality - Pure crack. Mind Robber wishes it could be as hilarious and off the wall as this story is. It throws every cliche fairy tale narrative device in the book at the characters and expects them to take it with the straight face, all the while realizing that the rules of the world are completely bonkers. And it manages to sustain this energy throughout, which is a no small feat. It's actually pretty exhausting by the end of it. Fairy tales stories do not belong to a lengthy literary genre, and even taking time deconstructing them, at 95K words becomes it becomes just too much - figuratively, and, on occasion, literally. Still, pretty great, I wish more books had its energy 9/10.

51) The Adventuress of Henrietta Street - *sigh*. My expectations were pretty low to begin with, and I still am somehow disappointed. Credit where credit's due - it is probably most coherent of the books from Miles. And at least it's better than Interference. That's really not saying much, though.

Honestly, if you've read any story about prostitutes, murder, satanic sex rituals bordering on blatant pornography, eastern culture and "mysticism of female sex" used for fetish fuel, written by a dude who clearly gets off on all of this - you've read all of them. There is really nothing revolutionary or compelling about it. On the list of "plots I never want to see in Doctor Who", they are definitely up there. And the Doctor is dying again, because it wouldn't be Miles's book without it. And he's, uh... living in a brothel, trying to marry someone, in order to, uh..... ritualistically tie himself to Earth, for, reasons? Did I read that right? After over 100 years of living on Earth and wanting to do nothing else than seeing the back of it, right. And writing books not quite about sex but definitely about sex. Because that's the thing the Doctor apparently does now. Self insert what self insert. And Fitz and Anji are just... there. On an occasion. All of it exposed on in a dull faux academic style without a shred of characterization, all the while absolutely nothing of note is happening, despite being a singularly longest EDA.

Just, if you hate the characters so much. If you don't understand what makes them tick to this degree. If you don't even care to learn. If you consider any established emotions they should have about the plot you are putting them through beneath you. Why are you writing in a shared universe to begin with? 2/10

(I did have an unintentional moment of hilarity with it, though. There is a character that is referred to as Lord ______, as if his name is censored. TTS would always pronounce it as Lord Underbarunderbarunderbar. Always gave me a chuckle).

52) Mad Dogs and Englishmen - A hilarious story, a very easy read, flowing from scene to scene. There are several occasions of fridge horror treated with levity that I would have rather have avoided. Plus, it is as incestuous as a book about books can get, and yet.... It is just absurd enough to work.

Plus, the whole, “His books are full of black magic, mind control...and perversion - moral and ethical and sexual. He is polluting the atmosphere of our group”, “What’s next? Rewrite War and Peace so it’s about guinea pigs?” - Oh, the shade. It is a good book in its own right, but just for this alone, 10/10

53) Hope - It's a pretty average book. Not outstanding, not horrible. Would have made a decent episode, all things considered, in a bread and butter sort of way. It does have some great ideas - the refuge of humanity, the conflict between Anji and the Doctor finally coming to light - not quite the type of conflict I was hoping for, though. If only it had a bit more nuisance, without neatly delineated black and white, if the antagonist didn't end up being a mustache twirling villain, if the Doctor didn't end up strong-arming everyone in a much more macho manner than he normally goes for (with a rather clunky dialogue). It had potential, even if it didn't end up being realized in full. 8/10

54) Anachrophobia - Very meh. The set up was fairly contrived, it never made me care about any of the characters, including whatever the hell the Doctor and co were doing, not to mention any of the secondary characters. Not terribly engaging, after a point I was mostly flipping through it. There is some big conflict brought up at 95% mark, and it is resolved in just couple of pages via a deus ex machina and a paradox. Overall, I might have said that I would have liked it better if I was in a mood for existential horror, but I took a break in the middle to listen to the Lease of Life - and it actually touches upon several similar themes, but with and outstanding character drama and much more graceful execution, which made this book look even more poor in comparison. 5/10

55) Trading Futures - I will give the author all the points for keeping an eye on the future. Perhaps, in 2002, predicting tablets being used as menus in fancy restaurants wasn’t that big of a reach, but I absolutely had a spit take when TTS has read to me something about “eye-phones”. There are some modestly clever moments throughout the book. Too bad that the rest of it is a complete rubbish. Not terribly original, either - a lot of ideas are copied directly from other books and other franchises. Reasonably entertaining, all things considered, but in a much more slapstick sort of way than was probably intended. 7/10

Overall impressions so far - This batch is, for the most part, fine. Some stories are worst than others, some better. With one exception, nothing horrendous, but nothing to write home about, either. They are, for the most part, serviceable. Individually, they have decent enough plots. But. There is very little character work. They can generally be read in any order, or dropped entirely, and you wouldn’t miss anything. The Doctor is mostly coasting from the excellent streak in the last batch, always in a spot light. I am starting to tire of the whole amnesia arc, though - it was good, but it ran its course, and at this point, with everything functionally back to norm, with barely a stray mention of it here and there, we are starting to be overdue for some semblance of resolution of all that. Henrietta Street is entirely a step in the wrong direction - not only it does nothing worthwhile for the characters, it’s just getting unnecessarily further into the weedworks, adding yet another plot thread that is forced on other writers to carry (they mention it occasionally, but it’s not like there is much to build upon) - rather viciously reminding of the previous mess of an ark “don’t you dare to think that it is over”. And I am so over it. Just, move on.

The companions fare rather worse. They are decent enough, they participate in action, in each book, they are mostly staying in character, with a handful of neat moments here and there (in a blink and you’ll miss it sort of way, though), they aren’t written off as an unnecessary burden to carry, which is an improvement. There is nothing meaty given to them though - they ask the necessary questions, do the things required of them, and generally stay out of the way when they are not needed. I guess Anji has at least some character driven moments, even though most of them are reduced to “I miss my dead boyfriend”. Which is... fine, we’ve all lost people, we all mourn them in our own way, but it has been 14 books since her introduction, and she is leaving in another 10. To have her character reduced to just that bit from her first book, with barely anything else to offer.... Plus, all the while, she rarely felt like she integrated into the team - because she is constantly eying her exit and returning to normality (even though she always decides to stay just a little while longer due to circumstances), it’s like from the very beginning she had one foot out of the door.

But while Anji is a bit of a one trick pony, at least she has that much. Poor Fitz gets absolutely nothing to do. The last meaningful book that addressed his character in any way was all the way back around book #42-43, and even that was just catching up on plot after his prolonged absence. He’s been essentially frozen since early 30s books. He is generally a fun character to have around, and does good supporting work, but can he please get something more impactful any time soon? Heck, by this point I’ll even take the recurrence of “finding a new love interest number 20 who will inevitably die by the end of the book” - it has been overdone, and it is certainly not a very exciting plot, not to mention reductive, but at least it’d be something. Though, I guess only one companion is allowed to carry that staple at the time, and right now Anji is it, two dead lovers is just an overkill.

And it is an absolute shame - especially when considering that on the other side, Big Finish was in the middle of streak of some of the best stories. Over the same time that these novels were published, we had audios such as Project Twilight, Eye of the Scorpion, Colditz, One Doctor, Chimes of Midnight, Seasons of Fear, which were full of character.

#doctor who #eighth doctor #eighth doctor adventures #eda

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chat-noir-always-here · 4 years

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I rewatch Miraculous—Mr. Pigeon

Behold!!! The episode that almost made me stop watching Miraculous.

No for real i think i got up and left the room first time around, this episode was so ridiculous.

• “You only have one day to work on your fashion piece.” Only a day? That seems kinda unrealistic when you take into account designing, gathering materials, whether or not you need to go out and buy any materials, the amount of time it takes to actually put all that together...

•WHOA Gabriel’s actually smiling in that pic Mrs. Bustier shows. Er, smiling-ish

•Pure cinnamon roll child seems proud this peppermint frappucino dickhead is his father (Gabriel ur hair looks like whipped topping and that tie doesnt help). BE GRATEFUL FOR SUCH A CARIBG CHILD YOU PRICK!!!

•Maaaaaariii chill the fuck out your overactive imagination and severe anxiety are getting the better of you.

•AHEM Gabriel has a purple bowtie in Mari’s imagination instead of that ridiculous peppermint scarf he uses to hide Nooroo’s broach???

•Adrien: appears out of nowhere

Marintette: jerks and flops away like a fish on dry land

Me: lol bye Marinette

• Adriens beuatiful face when Mari is talking to him (before she blunders and stumbles with her words) is beautiful

•Mari’s beautiful face when Adrien is telling her “you’re so talented Marinette!” and the subtle tremor in her eyes as they widen with her smile...☺️😊😘i love my beautiful, anxious mess of a daughter

•Mari: Follows Adrien with her eyes like an owl. LMAO.

•Chloe does not deserve Sabrina 😒

•Whereas Gabriel resembles a peppermint frap, Hawk Moth/Papillion appears to be the result of what might happen if Batman and the riddler had a baby

•Ramier, bruh, there is like. Zero. Fucking. Reason to be that upset over not being allowed to feed pigeons. For real. Go feed them on some rooftop somewhere if you must. No reason to let Hawk Daddy akumatize you over it...

...

...You know what? We’re not calling Gabriel “daddy.”

EVER. Again.

•Also Hawk-shitface, pigeon dude is your worst idea and you keep coming back to him. Seriously at least put some effort into your champions’ outfits. Youre a fashion designer for petes sake!

• wow this show really loves its skin-tight body suits, huh? Even when they look ridiculous.

•Sabrina how the hell much did you have to pay for a cellphone that lets you zoom in on a fucking sketch from dozens of feet away and score yourself a crystal-clear image???

•Sabrina: “We’re soooo awesome!”

Chloe: “We?”

Chloe does NOT deserve Sabrina.

•Arent real bird feathers full of germs and bacteria that cause diseases? And Marinette “im immune to bird flu” Dupain-Cheng just plucked that shit up off the ground and put it on her hat of all things. I dont know whether to be fisgusted or impressed.

•Chat “paint me like one of your French girls” Noir for the win everybody

• “Im allergic to feathers.” I came across a theory on tumblr once (cant find the OP) that this coulda been caused by Emilie wearing the damaged Peacock broach when she was pregnant with him. If thats true i would be pleased😏

•Allow me to channel Chloe for this comment: LB, CN, that disguise is about as convincing as Mr. Pigeon and Bubbler’s get ups are appealing. In other words, NO.

•Chat Noir moonwalking with a hat on—booiii got some moves. 👌👌👌👌

• “You’re the cat dont you eat [pigeons] for breakfast?!” No LB, Kitty Boi is a domestic kitty otherwise he’d present to you little dead things like my cat used to do before we stopped letting him go out. This is an awful joke but SPARE THE BIRDS, theyre just like Ramier—being controlled by a monster.

• “On the count of three my beloved pigeons will commence fire.” As disgusting as pigeon poop is i think they’ll live. Cant you come up with a better evil plan? Threatening to break the glass floor at their feet by having the pigeons stomp on the cage would be more effective. I’m not trying to help the villain, kaay? I just prefer my villains to use their head. Honestly Team Rocket is more intimidating than Pigeon Dude.

•is it just me or is kitty boi especially adorable in this episode??? 😻😻😻

• flock of pigeons put a dent ten times the size of kitty boi’s head in the door

Okay thats actually kinda terrifying. What woulda happened if that attack hit a normal person wearing no magical armor??? They’d be pecked to bits...

• CN: “I gotta get outta here before my secret identity is revealed!”

LB: “Yeah you wouldnt wanna let the cat out of the bag!”

CN: “...Haha very funny.” 😾

Dont dish out what you cant take, handsome boy.

•LB’s look of amusement as CN starts running in place for fear of detransforming in front of others is hillarious

•kitty boi if this hotel takes tips you should really give Jean-whatshisname one. That was the speediest, life-saving room service ever.

•isnt this just Chloe’s room??? Theres a ladybug pillow on the bed and everything. Why did the mayor send CN to Chloe’s room???

• “i cant wait my dear pigeon.” Hmm reminds of later on when Hawk Moth calls Nats “My dear Mayura.” Bruh if you INTO Ramier just ask for his phone number like a normal person, quit akumatizing him and eat a damn snickers

•LB: Time for a sneak attack! Oh no, my sneak attack failed cuz my partner couldnt help but sneeze with all these FEATHERS around.

HELLO, he just told you he was allergic to feathers???

•ugh them censoring out the punches with flashy screenshots is so LAAAME show me the VIOLENCE.

• “Cat Noir! Grab [the bird call!]” AGAIN he’s ALLERGIC TO FEATHERS. Just tie that yoyo to something to keep Pigeon dude in the air and smash it yourself.

• Gabriel is that teacher from Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide who was never physically present in class and was only ever seen through a tablet or some nonsense

•Chloe getting busted my Marinette in front of the principal, Gabriel and Adrien is a great example of how PLAGIARISM DOESNT PAY are you listening art thieves lurking on tumblr, instagram and elsewhere???

•ahem Gabriel that sympathetic look you give a weeping Chloe is very out of character

• “youre the winner Marinette.” Not gonna check out Kim and Max’s hat? You could at least look at it, doesnt seem very impartial to pick Mari without looking at ALL the hats

•siiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh

Girl they are BOTH allergic to feathers. How many blonde teenage boys walk around with a feather allergy? Quantum Masking or no Quantum Masking, c’mon you should be at least considering the idea theyre the same person from that knowledge alone.

Annnd thats all for now. This episode is more of a vent-inducing hate sink than enjoyable, save for the gushing waterfall of cute kitty boi moments it provides. I may do Stormy Weather later today to make up for it.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #adriennette #marinette dupain cheng #mr pigeon

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nadiestar · 4 years

Text

Drawing Unicors And Train Wrecks: Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 (AO3)

Masterpost | Taglist

“I see your point I just don’t think we could motivate any of the boys to come here and just sit together. Logan is angry at me for skipping him and at you for making the button. Virgil is angry with me siding with you and I don’t think I need to point out what Roman would have against sitting together with us,” Patton said and massaged his temple.

Janus leaned back in the chair and pressed his lips together. He had hoped for Patton to be far more eager to get his beloved famILY together. But apparently him turning into a giant frog had caused him to become more reasonable. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but right now Janus would have preferred an optimistic Patton to a reasonable one.

“Well, and we’d also have trouble with Remus...”

Janus raised his eyebrows, as he watched Patton casting his eyes down to the kitchen table in quiet guilt. That was not something he expected Patton to bring up, but then again, what was he if not an opportunist.

“Indeed. We’re going to have a lot of problems with Remus. But we need to have them, so we can get over them. Otherwise he will not be accepted by Thomas and we both know we need him to be accepted.”

Patton looked up. He clenched his jaw and Janus crossed his arms in front of his chest, as he pushed his chin forward. He would not back out of this conversation. Not in a million years.

___

“So, you just knock once on the floor instead of saying “UNO”, alright?” Roman proposed while knocking with his fist on the floor, as an example what Remus was supposed to do.

The little Duke, now with the quiet elaborate make-up moustache, grinned widely and demonstrated his agreement with hammering his fist on the floor a few times. Virgil grinned at the little boy's energy and enthusiasm and then asked if he should distribute the cards.

Then they started to play. It had been Remus who conjured the set after he had been satisfied with staring at his reflection and the three others were quick to oblige. And so, they had ended up sitting in a little circle around a stack of UNO cards on the floor of Logan’s living room.

They didn’t know but imagery the group provided was more than a little strange. The three grown men all looked like they all came out of different shows. A prince out of a fairy tale, the stern but fair teacher from the protagonists of a kids show and an emo background character out of a Tim Burton movie. And all three looked utterly displaced sitting as they were in a little circle with this little boy in midst of them.

But they did not truly care. Not when they miraculously managed to keep going and going and whenever one of them had an UNO the others’ managed to keep them to lay down his last card. Also, somehow whenever things got a little quieter the one player who was next pulled a +4 and as funny it was to hear all three adults censor their swears (Remus was Remus but also five years old. They had to be responsible around him.) it also was a bit strange.

After a further fifteen minutes of them playing without ever reaching a conclusion, Logan paused before he played his next card, a green reverse which would keep Roman from playing and give Remus the next move, and looked to the little Duke next to him.

“Remus, am I right in the assumption that you are monitoring which cards we have and manipulating the middle stack?”

The little boy pressed his cards against his chest and pouted with big puppy eyes. Logan sighed but the tiny hint of a smile reached his lips and he told the boy: “I know you’re not changing the cards we hold in our hands. I’ve kept an eye on it. It’s only the middle stack and taking that in account I have to say -” The hint of a smile turned into an actual smile - “that is quite impressive. You’re being very clever with this.”

A tiny giggle escaped the little rat kid’s lips. It was not loud but genuine and fresh. Filling the air and their chests like only few melodies ever could. It was surprisingly soft and so, so vulnerable. Vulnerable like a feather.

___

Patton was shaking like a feather in the wind. The hard and stern expression in his face could have fooled one, but Janus saw the fear and the fragile state of the other. He didn’t want to put him through it.

“I understand that he is loud and wild. I get that it scares you,” Janus said and put Patton through it anyway, “but he will let us face what we need to face. The anger, the sadness, all the things that weigh you down. He can access them so much easier and it will only help you to face them. He’s necessary for us to get better.”

“But what is about the effort the others already put into my wellbeing? Does it not count? How is it not enough? Roman sacrificed his own needs for me feeling better! How is that not enough for me?” Patton retorted defensively and desperately.

Janus eyes became sad and he reached over the table to take Patton’s clenched hands in his own. He saw his pain. He knew it. He had seen it so many times in his friend.

“I am so not sorry Patton. I wish that the things the others did for you would have made you better, made it easier for you to be but self-sacrifice, as noble as it might seem, is not helpful. What Roman did was not helpful. He was just as desperate as you and wanted to help but what he brought to the table was not helpful. Because it was not what he really believed, what he really wanted. He was just trying to please you and that wasn’t helpful for either of you. He needs to be able to talk back to you, having another opinion than you and knowing that he might get out of a discussion as the winner, because right now, he can never win.”

Patton’s bottom lip shivered but his hands were unclenched. He let Janus hold him.

“Roman can do much good if we let him. And you can too. So, so much good. I know that is all you want but I’ve seen you destroy yourself by taking over the wheel with no idea of what you were doing. You’ve been hurting so long and I know you began to acknowledge parts of that but that won’t be enough. We’re going to have to dig deeper than that. And I know you can do it. Just not on your own.”

___

Finally, Remus played his last card and Logan proposed for all of them to take a short break. Remus was fine with it, when Logan gave him some paper and a pen and sat next to him, while he scribbled some doodles on the paper. Meanwhile Virgil pulled Roman aside.

“Hey, man, uhm, you seem… tense?” Virgil started quietly while eyeing what Logan and Remus were doing in the corner of his eyes.

Roman forced a smile and fumbled with his hands as he then told doubtful Virgil: “I’m fine! Just worried. About Remus. What else would I be worried about, I mean? Right?”

The fake laugh Roman put on after that didn’t help convince Virgil in any way of Roman’s words. And Roman could see that all too well and stopped. Uneasily he cast his eyes down to his feet and felt his shoulders slump. He didn’t feel princely, at all.

“It’s fine. You took a big hit after the whole thing with Deceit. You’re allowed to be upset about it. Especially, now when your brother fucking regressed as well. This is like the worst nightmare I can imagine, myself being in,” Virgil claimed despite at least five worse things coming to mind but choosing to ignore them since they didn’t seem to be helpful additions in order to get Roman into a better mood.

“It’s not so bad. There are worse things than being regressed.”

Virgil stared at Roman with big eyes and Roman immediately noticed his mistake. Franticly, feeling sweat building on the back of his neck he held his hands up in front of his chest and he faked a laugh.

“I mean,” Roman tried to deflect the suspicion, “there are worse things than Remus being regressed! Remus being regressed! Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

In Virgil’s head rang a million alarm bells. Roman had been regressed before. His poor attempt to hide it made that clear enough, but looking at Roman’s face, at the worry in it he knew he couldn’t ask it. Not without compromising Roman into a crying mess at least.

So, he took the other bait and asked: “Then Remus has been regressed before? Like how often?”

Roman’s breath was still racing and Virgil almost felt that he was going to cry but at once Roman just gulped, drove his hand through his hair and got a grip on his breathing again. He smiled shakily but it seemed to be enough for him to keep himself together and he began to explain.

“It’s usually, when he gets super overwhelmed by stuff that happens to Thomas. Or to us for that matter.”

“What?”

Roman and Virgil turned both their head to Logan who had stood up and now was walking towards the two of them.

“Why would regression help him to deal with feeling overwhelmed?” Logan asked again, as Roman didn’t continue talking.

With a curt shaking of his head Roman bounced back and he answered: “It doesn’t help. It’s a reaction. He has no way of changing the situation, he cannot do anything to stop us all from hurting and stuff and so his physical state just aligns with his emotional state. He just becomes as small and helpless as he feels.”

___

“Thank you. I feel a little less directionless now,” Patton told Janus and squeezed his hands.

The snake smiled at him, fondness visibly glittering in his eyes. He let his hand slip over Patton’s and stroked it a few times, getting a little shaky but authentic smile out of the moral side.

“Do mention it. I’m just doing what I can to keep us all from crashing.”

Patton gave him a short glance, which told Janus that he was thinking that Janus did much more than that but neither lingered on that notion. Instead, Patton sighed a little and straightened his back.

He pulled on hand back to his chest, fumbled with the knot of his cardigan and said while looking down to the table: “I just can’t but still feel uneasy about the twins. It’s as if I could sense their unease, you know?”

“You what?” Janus asked suddenly vigilant.

It was then both heard the sound of a door opening in the hallway.

___

Nerd had heard Bro and Gily talking. He had gone to them and talk.

Nobody was looking over his drawings anymore. Remus did not like that feeling at all. He knew, he should have been used to it, but it still bothered him. He didn’t want to cry though. Bro was upset and Nerd and Gily could not handle him being upset. So he would not cry and do something himself.

Nerd’s room was not much fun, when he looked around. Just papers and necessities. Many books Remus didn’t want to read.

But then there was the door. The doorknob was very shiny and Remus knew he could reach it with no problem. And so, the little Duke stood up and walked over to the door, mindful of his step, so the others wouldn’t see him.

The shiny doorknob was smooth and Remus liked the feel as he turned it and opened the door. Quick he stood outside and looked down corridor. It was funny how much bigger everything looked to him now.

___

Roman barely heard Logan’s last words as they all three suddenly noticed the little creak the door made as it was opened. In panic all three turned to see Remus walking outside and Roman started sprinting to get to his brother.

He hit his knee at the door, the pain pulsed, but he had no time thinking about it. Remus wasn’t looking at him. He looked to the doorframe leading into the living room, to the shadow that was cast through it.

Roman felt his heart beat up into his throat. The shadow had a hat. He knew the steps. He placed himself beside Remus, despite shivering like a leaf, holding out his arm as if to protect him.

And there it came; Janus stepped out of the doorway. Looked at him and his little brother, who was close to tears. Roman opened his mouth, wanted to defend Remus, not seeing the obvious concern and not anger shining in Janus’s face. But no sound wanted to come to him. He was helpless.

Another shadow. Another pair of steps, next to Virgil and Logan who had come out after Roman.

Patton stood behind Janus.

And at that Roman shrunk. His prince outfit morph into a simple white shirt with a golden sun on it and the red sash turning into a red cape. The black slacks and black boots gone for red shorts and bare feet. On his head a golden cardboard crown held on his head with an elastic string around his chin.

Whimpers shook the now so little Prince and he tried to muffle, suffocate them behind his tiny hands, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t do anything.

Remus jumped in front of him. A little, silver short appeared in his right hand and with his left he shielded him from the other’s sight.

Roman fell onto his backside from crying and his brother’s little hand was suddenly put on his shoulder. And then they fell through the floor into a different place. Away from the others.

___

The four grown-ups stared at the place where Roman and Remus had just stood a mere moment ago.

“Where did they go?! Janus! Where did they go!” Virgil cried aggressively and targeted Janus, who’s eyes still were frozen on the spot.

“Remus probably took them to the Imagination. It’s where he feels most in control,” Janus answered in reflex.

Panicked Logan shot forwards, hands on his head and muttered: “The Imagination is a death trap! They are five years old and we cannot function without Creativity. We cannot lose them! We cannot lose them.”

“Hold. Hold on. We can fix this. It is fine,” Janus intervened finally breaking free from his spot.

“Fix this? This is your fault and-”

“Virgil, please!” Patton stopped Virgil.

All three looked at Patton. He rubbed his eyes. Tears were streaming down but beyond them was a shaky sign of determination in his gaze.

“Janus is self-preservation. If somebody knows how to start saving ourselves it will be him.”

Patton reached out and held onto Janus’s arm.

“I’ll trust you. Lead the way.”

Virgil and Logan gaped at the two and then exchanged a look. Logan gulped and took a step towards them. Gave Janus a simple nod and hesitantly put is and on Patton’s back.

Virgil stared at Janus. And Janus stared back. For once Virgil didn’t slouch. He met Janus evenly in his gaze, taking a deep breath and took a step towards Logan.

“Well then,” Janus said looked to the others, “let’s not waste anymore time and get our Creativities back.”

___

@aprincehasgotoslay

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

#platonic drlamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #Drawing Unicorns And Train Wrecks #mim rambles #Mims Requests

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evarcana · 4 years

Note

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS *Grinch gif* please be so kind to share 2, 8, 11, 19, 25, 32 with the world 👀💕 yes I know it's a lot so have this as tribute: 🍷

Yaaaaay you can always send me more even if the world is not interested😁🥂

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

Ev: “Prideful man, who deserves every bit of the admiration from me.”

Valerius: “Witch.”

*Whaaaaat?! I have been so nice to you just now and this is all you can say! *censored* I am going to smash that rare bottle of vintage*

“I did not choose a witch as a lover, I chose beautiful, intelligent woman who is capable of doing almost anything and even has the courage to shout at the Consul of Vesuvia.”

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Ev: “Oh, he looks so cold. It’s a bit heart-stopping, that cold look in his eyes. I wonder if he is like that all the time...

Down girl, it’s really not the time.

Oh no, losing your temper.., not so cold then? I wonder...

Stop, he is clearly not impressed by you. What are you thinking about? He just acted like your sole existence is a personal offence to him. He thinks you are stupid. Big mistake.

Now, don’t be stupid and be mean, two can play this game.”

Looking at the camera: “Handsome and intelligent, but arrogant as hell, thinks he is better than everybody else. Probably makes bad decisions because of his temper.”

Valerius: “Oh she is annoying. What does she think she is going to do here? A witch.., where did the Countess even find her? How very inconvenient. As if last night was not bad enough...

And besides all you have the audacity to stare at me? Rather beautiful eyes. Wait. Stop staring at me, witch. You are very annoying.

I cannot have any of it. This needs to be over now.

Is it a challenge in your gaze? Not the reaction that I expected to say the least. What a pain. I’d better forget this pitiful encounter”

Looking at the camera: “Little witch who does not know what she is getting herself into . But I have to give her a credit for being quite brave and at least smart enough to maintain her decorum. Interesting.”

11. What causes them to fight?

Erm... could be anything ? They are both stubborn, very opinionated and seem to be unable to holdback when it comes to each other. The little arguments can spiral out of control, soon becoming tempestuous.

But it’s not like they hate it, they both need to let the steam out, and often find it refreshing or even a turn-on. They fight to make up, often manipulating obviously to make each other angry. As you can imagine, they are not very good with the whole “sit down and talk about our feelings/situation” thing and both suffer from the trust issues although each to the different extend.

They fight for the power within their own couple and hate when in public the other one appears in charge.

If one said something embarrassing about the other, it’s a big deal, especially for Valerius.

They are both possessive and jealous, so there are lots of arguments because of it. Psshhhh, Ev is the worst one, she tries to kick out Valerius to sleep on the sofa every time he comes back late and drunk from his Vesuvian gentlemen’s club.

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

Don’t expect too much from these two idiots, they are too private to write anything romantic.

Ev: “From now on, I promise help you with your responsibilities and make your problems my own to spread the weight on your shoulders a bit more evenly.”

Valerius: “I cannot promise I will never hurt you, because even the best of intentions sometimes fall short. What I do promise is to always reach for you over my pride.”

*What? Longer than one line? And what are you going to do? To declare that you are unable to conduct the ceremony?*

25. What moves do they know work on the other?

Ev knows that he loves her being spontaneous and bold, even if he hides it with some sort of neglecting remark. Or anything soft and gentle involving lots of complimenting - but that is almost considered playing dirty.

Valerius knows where, when and how to touch. They do not hold hands or hug casually, the touch is always a promise of more.

32. Do they enjoy morning or night sex?

They enjoy any, but night is better.

Ev is not a morning person and is a deep sleeper, so she can hardly be called active until at least 10 am.

Valerius is a bit more up to it, but he can’t wake her up he prefers to take his time and not to think about the plans for the day.

If it is morning sex, it’s rather lazy and soft, and it happens when they both are having a lay in and can fall asleep again after.

So as they both into more “intense” things, night or day time it is.

#the arcana oc asks #evpanopolis

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Saying that a fictional depiction of a rape is the same as promoting rape is like saying that writing a story about a character being gaybashed is promoting gaybashing. If you have the right to write a story based on your experiences, why don't I? Also, where's the line between depiction and romanticisation? There is none. At all. -- queer survivor who will not let you or anyone silence me.

Literally not something I’ve ever said, so congrats on the reading comprehension and thanks for being the 8,647th person to hop in my inbox or on one of my posts about this subject and attempt to make it about everything EXCEPT for things I actually have said and believe.

And for the record, there is a very clear line between depiction and romanticisation, are you kidding me??? Do you even get how communication works?

A work of fiction that essentially says “here are events that happened,” is a depiction.

A work of fiction that essentially says “here are events that happened, and the way in which they happened is intended to be received as sexy or romantic, as is further evidenced by reader reception in the form of comments about how sexy or romantic that depiction of events that happened was,”

....THAT is romanticization.

I am so, so, soooooooooo endlessly tired of being engaged by people who insist on being willfully dishonest and hypocritical about how much power they perceive fiction as having.

Every other day of the week, fanfic is empowering because it gives literally any of us a platform with which to reach other fans and express our own ideas, storylines and emotions regarding characters we all share an interest in.

But the second THIS conversation comes up, in ANY of its myriad forms, suddenly you’re all like, “ummmmm.....I am just a helpless little author who has never shaped anything I’ve ever written with any kind of specific intent or goal towards how I want the audience to receive or perceive my story?? I wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that? Is that even a thing?”

You all know damn well the difference between a story that depicts rape, pedophilia and incest, and a story that romanticizes/sensationalizes/uses those things as the specific elements that are supposed to result in that story being sexually gratifying to readers who engage with it.

Like, lmfao, I’m not the prude anyone makes me out to be, any more than I’m this evil censor about to go into all your houses and strip you of your ability to write whatever you want. Shockingly, guess what? I’ve written erotica myself! Not about those topics, clearly, but I’ve literally written and sold stories that I wrote with the specific intention of being perceived as erotic, sexy, romantic, etc.....

BECAUSE I, LIKE MOST OTHER WRITERS, KNOWS HOW TO GEAR A STORY IN VARIOUS DIRECTIONS WITHOUT HAVING TO ACTUALLY INCLUDE THE HEADERS “THIS PART IS JUST A DEPICTION” AND “OKAY NOW THIS PART YOU SHOULD THINK IS SEXY.”

LOLOL I’m so fucking tired. Literally the only message I have ever expressed on this subject in all the years I’ve been posting about it, on my own damn blog, in my own damn threads, with people like you always being the one to come and engage ME and still somehow operate under the impression that YOU’RE the ones being silenced here, like I’m the one going around to shut down everything YOU’RE saying every time you even open your mouth on a specific subject.....

Like, did I make that clear enough? Was the irony pointed enough there? Is it maybe sinking in a little, the utter ABSURDITY of people like you streaming into my inbox night after night, week after week, to yell “STOP SILENCING ME, I WILL NOT BE OPPRESSED OR CENSORED BY YOU”.....

When I literally have no idea who most of you are, thus couldn’t silence you even if I WANTED to, which again, is not something I’ve ever even expressed, given that my message on this subject over. And over. And over. And over. AND ALWAYS AND CONSISTENTLY IS:

I am not for censorship. Not only do I hate censorship, I don’t view it as even slightly effective, and at most its like trying to slap a bandaid on top of a wound without any attempt to even examine the injury itself and see how it came to be and what it really needs to be effectively treated.

My viewpoints on this subject have always been about one thing and one thing only: personal accountability.

As in, I advocate for people to just fucking apply a little more awareness to their OWN power, their OWN impact, their OWN platform....even if that platform is only fanfiction on the internet, yes.

Power and impact and influence are all still there, even among fanfic writers, as anyone who’s ever posted or reblogged about the legitimacy of fanfiction as a form of fiction, like, already damn well knows, so its so exasperating seeing that fly right out the window the second anyone asks a fanfic writer to scrutinize their own work to even just make sure THEY THEMSELVES are okay with ALL the potential impacts of whatever it is they’re writing.

Fiction is just language. Language is just a tool for communicating ideas, intents, emotions, experiences and more.

And like literally any other tool in the history of humanity, for this is literally the nature of tools and how they work....

A tool has no inherent ‘goodness’ that makes it IMPOSSIBLE to be wielded in a way that produces harm. It simply exists. And its capacity to help or to harm, to be used in positive ways or negative ways.....depends SOLELY on its wielder and how they apply that tool and to what ends.

Fiction, whether the kind on bookshelves in stores or the kind found only on Ao3....has tremendous power. It communicates new ideas to people who’ve never considered a certain point of view before. It conveys new experiences to people who would never encounter something depicted firsthand in their own day to day lives. It conveys emotions, imbued into the narrative by the author themselves, even if those emotions are not necessarily always what the author thinks they are or intended them to be or not always ones readers truly read into the text versus simply project onto the text themselves.

But there are an infinite variety of ways in which fiction has power, has impact, can and does reach people. It connects people, linking them via shared experiences or viewpoints or ideas so that a reader seeing themselves represented in what an author is writing can at least say they’re not alone, there’s someone else out there who says or thinks or experiences things similar to them. It can persuade people, exposing them to new viewpoints they’ve never considered before and convincing them of their validity by the arguments written into the text, even if they were never intended that way or the author might not even consciously be aware of making an argument in the text. It can fortify people, reassuring them that a perspective they have on a subject does have validity because here in this story, there’s someone thinking the same things for the same reasons. It can help people heal or even just hold on long enough to heal, by seeing their own tragedies reflected in a fictional mirror that still manages to impart that healing and recovery after something tragic are possible, that there is potentially more good still to come, in a reader’s life just as in a character’s story.

All I have ever expressed, over and over and over, is that its important to always keep sight of the fact that because fiction is just a tool, and not any more infallible than any writer using it to convey their thoughts and ideas and emotions.....

Fiction DOES still have just as much power to harm, too, if wielded irresponsibly. Everything I just detailed above has a flip side. Its a two way street, it can go both ways. Fiction can just as easily connect bigoted people, white supremacists, homophobes, transphobes, etc.....via shared experiences or viewpoints that reflect and empower the perspectives of bigots, etc. It can persuade people to do or think things that aren’t healthy, by exposing them to toxic viewpoints and convincing them of their validity due to a reader being vulnerable to various arguments that are made in bad faith. And no, this does not mean that I’m saying people run out and do what they see depicted or even romanticized in fiction. I’m simply saying fiction holds every capacity to convince people of the validity of something harmful as much as something healing.....it all just depends on how important that particular thing or argument is to their specific lives, how vulnerable or exposed they are to particular arguments, how much weight they give it, etc, etc. There are a ton of factors here. All I’m saying is this IS a factor, its included among those many, many other things.

Moving on....it can fortify the worst kind of people, reassure them that their prejudices or toxic viewpoint on a subject has validity because a story is seemingly endorsing it without any sign within the narrative that the characters’ perspective on this matter IS flawed, or toxic or unhealthy or prejudiced, rather than just a straight forward and unbiased depiction. And yes, it can hinder personal healing or recovering, by keeping a reader mired in the same kind of thoughts or emotions they’re already currently battling and reinforcing their personal perception that there is no alternative to those things, etc, etc.

None of these are in any way a given, with any given story, any given writer, any given reader. There are tons of variables, as I said.

But also as I’ve said....my only point has always just been that these things EXIST, the potential for these things to happen in this or that way EXISTS, and it is willfully dishonest of fanfic writers and readers to insist on the power of fanfiction to help, to heal, to connect people......while simultaneously trying to absolve themselves of even the need to be CAREFUL with how they wield the power of fiction, because apparently, with fanfiction, its ONLY ever a one way street. Fanfiction NEVER has the power to harm, to reinforce negative or prejudiced perspectives, impart and convince readers of toxic viewpoints and arguments.

How can you pretend that’s not how this works? That saying la la la, I’m JUST a fanfic writer, I only have a couple hundred readers maybe, so by virtue of that, somehow, only good things can result from my writing, there’s noooooooo possible negative impact to any of my work or various ideas I put forth....

Like, that isn’t a thing! LOLOL. That’s not a disclaimer with any power or truth. All it is, is a fandom-spread and perpetuated lie meant to reassure people that here in this space, there is a kind of power that unlike ALL OTHER FORMS OF POWER IN EXISTENCE.....can only ever be a good thing, a positive thing...and thus there is no need for any one in a fandom space, whether writer or reader, to ever have to be on their guard or careful about what they say or believe the way they have to be ‘in the outside world.’ Here, in fandom, you can finally just RELAX, you can just enjoy yourself and have fun and not have to worry about whether you’re doing or saying the wrong thing because none of those things are even a POSSIBILITY here, and anyone who says otherwise is just trying to tarnish our perfect paradise, let the ugliness of the outside world into it via unnecessary and unasked for criticism and scrutiny that isn’t fair to apply here because its not like any of us have any real power, we’re just fans, writing stuff on the internet.

And people are just...DETERMINED not to accept that, or to even LOOK at it as the actual subject being discussed in a lot of these conversations. So you spin everything I and others like me say, turn them into arguments we’ve never actually espoused, warn against the perils of censorship we’ve never actually asked or advocated for, stand tall against the attempts to silence you...THAT HAVE NEVER ACTUALLY EXISTED.

Like....the message that bothers me, the communication that I personally am disturbed by seeing practically everywhere I look in fandom? Yes....its the message conveyed by the mere existence, the sheer volume of fics that depict traumas exactly like mine....but in ways that sexualize them, make them seem more about erotic fantasy rather than the abuses of power that they are in real life. I hate these kinds of stories, and just how damn MUCH of them there are, its true. I’m not denying it, I’ve never denied it. To me, them and all the hundreds and thousands of kudos and comments they receive - even without reading the fics directly, just via a mere AWARENESS that these conversations are taking place, no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise - to me, the message being conveyed over and over by them is that in the right light, from the right angle, things that happened to me at various points in my life are HOT, are SEXY.....

Like as an example, since apparently it seems I’ve been using my ‘gaybashed’ card too freely and unfairly shutting down conversations like this (lol again, let’s not forget, conversations that I begin, on my own blog, and that not a damn one of you is forced to interact with no matter how hard to play the STOP SILENCING angle when voluntarily approaching ME and trying to shame or guilt ME into not talking so much about this topic, aka SILENCING MEEEEEEEEEE)...

Anyway, all that aside, for this example let me pull from something I don’t talk about as much: the years when I was an escort in my late teens and early twenties, literally getting into bed with much older and extremely predatory men because I needed the money....AND because I was using this in part as a ‘coping mechanism’ to convince myself that sex had no power to hurt me. That thus by doing this I was retroactively taking away my rapes’ ability to harm me in the first place, and thus, I had never really been harmed and was FINE..... Except I was very much NOT okay, I absolutely ended up revictimized and further traumatizing myself because a lot of the people I interacted with at that period of my life were NOT good people and DIDN’T have a care for my best interests or even safety, even while saying and doing all the right things, the sexy things, even the romantic things...

I mean, I’m just saying....I could absolutely, without a doubt, write some of my own life experiences, things that were traumatizing to me and have left lingering scars....I could take some of those and write them in such a way as to have a sexualized or romanticized slant, publish them on Ao3 with names swapped out for some fictional characters and call it an AU.......and I for sure would get comments and kudos about how hot all of that was.

Now, I have no interest in doing that, obviously....but the thing is, I don’t HAVE to. Because those stories already EXIST, even if they don’t exactly match up to my specific experiences and they’re written by people who literally have no idea I even exist, let alone have lived through scenes eerily similar to what they write.

And just like those stories exist....the comments, and the kudos, and the praise and the glorification of these stories, the events depicted within them, the DYNAMICS depicted within them....these already exist as well. And I’m painfully, PAINFULLY aware of that. Every day. Every fandom I’m in. Every fandom I’ve ever been in.

And it SUCKS. I hate knowing that two posts down from some story I’m reading, there’s a story that has people drooling over the exact kind of predator that fucked with me and my head so much back in those years. I hate stumbling into an untagged AU every once in awhile and finding Bruce being depicted as Dick’s sugar daddy, preying on the MUCH younger man that we all normally associate with being his SON.....and knowing from past experience that if I click on the comments, almost without a doubt, judging by the 22 comments on one chapter alone, I’ll find enough swooning over how HOT and ROMANTIC this is, that it will most likely make me violently ill for the rest of the night. Because I so INTIMATELY know that there is NOTHING safe or healthy or not fucking traumatizing about that kind of dynamic with a person who is SUPPOSED to be safe and trustworthy to be around.......and I’m reminded all over again, just like I have been at SO MANY points in my life....how many people just don’t want to HEAR this, because they prefer their fantasy over the reality I know firsthand....BUT NONE OF THAT MAKES MY REALITY ANY LESS REAL OR LIVED THROUGH.

The thing so many of you don’t get is....none of this is even about whether I read these stories or not, none of it is about whether all of them get tagged properly or not....hell, none of it is actually about whether the people writing these fics are actually pedophiles or ‘endorsing’ these things or anything like that....I NEVER ARGUE ANY OF THAT, BECAUSE NONE OF IT IS THE POINT.

The point is just....the sheer bombardment of a singular message across so many fandoms, so many pairings, from so many people....

With that message being, to a very wide audience....with the right character in the right scenario....the things that for various people like myself and other survivors who DON’T like being surrounded by all this either, whether or not there are many survivors who for whatever reason DO find themselves okay with it...

(And considering our existence and arguments don’t invalidate your acceptance of these things, why do you so confidently tout the idea that YOUR existence and arguments should somehow innately just make all of this less objectionable to us? Just curious.)

The point is, no matter who is writing these stories or why, whether they ACTUALLY endorse these things or would never in a million years find them acceptable in real life (and again, why are you so confident that this is true for EVERYONE who writes these things, and by extension, why the FUCK do you presume its okay to expect all survivors to just give EVERYONE the benefit of the doubt as to why they’re writing these stories, when some of them are virtually indistinguishable from the kinds of things someone who DID find these things hot and sexy to enact on others in real life, would write themselves)....

Like.....none of that matters. Because none of that in any way affects the reality so many of us experience in fandom spaces:

That over and over we’re reminded that what was devastatingly traumatic for us, and impacts every day of our lives ever since.....to a wide audience of others, is just a hot, sexy fantasy and they’re all crying out MORE, MORE, GIVE US MORE.

And you all just sit back there and just us for saying....”it really bothers us to be surrounded by this message everywhere we turn.”

You shame US for saying this makes our fandom environment toxic and hostile at times.....and you flip the script and ask how dare WE shame survivors, who are probably just using these fics to cope....and literally ALL the people reading and writing these fics are survivors probably, I mean, you don’t know....and of course it’d be wildly inappropriate to ask so its probably best to just assume everyone writing these things are survivors....and thus we, no matter if we are survivors ourselves, have no business SHAMING or SILENCING them for just working through their shit in ways that its not even like it can actually hurt us anyway.

Except it DOES. It IS. And we say that, and you REFUSE TO HEAR US. You say “well this isn’t true for me, so it can’t be true for you or else just doesn’t matter if it is,” even though at no point have I or others I know ever said “because this is true for me, I am assuming it to be true for all survivors.”

You come into MY inbox, and act like you’re standing tall and proud against MY silencing tactics. Yeah, would I love it if I could go even a single day without having to gingerly avoid these stories and all mention of them, all casual references to them, all glowing praise of them, everywhere I look in fandom? Absofuckinglutely. Does me WANTING this thing - this thing we all know is never in actual danger of happening, lol - does this in ANY way ACTIONABLY translate into me censoring anyone, impeding anyone’s ability to write or post or read these things, is it me going in the comments of any of these fics and yelling HOW DARE YOU WRITE THIS and when that doesn’t get me the response I want, going to the blogs of the writers and yelling I WILL NOT BE SILENCED?

No. No. And fuck no. None of these things are happening, none of these things are reality.

And yet here you are, like SOOOOOOO MANY before you and like SOOOOOO MANY who will inevitably follow you in the future....

And your condescension and disdain for me and everything I think and everything I’ve lived through and my willingness or even just the way I choose to talk about it, just JUMPS off the page.

But the thing that will never not just absolutely fucking SLAY me, is the sheer absurdity of the accusations you and so many others level against me for MY censorship, MY shaming of other survivors. MY silencing tactics or whatever....

When you consider the fact that, yeah, I would love not having to see all these stories and other related things every single day. I would LOVE it.

But I’m not doing a single damn thing to make that a reality, to make that a DANGER, a THREAT to you and the thing you enjoy.....

Other than posting about it on my blog, and expressing how I feel about it, and arguing why I wish other people would spend more time considering perspectives like mine on the matter.

That’s it. That’s the whole grand conspiracy. That’s my awful and terrible assault on you and your autonomy and your freedom of speech and your interests and likes.

And meanwhile, here you are, stepping forward to confront ME in my own space about things I’ve said here and nowhere else that you’re forced to engage with and interact with and incapable of avoiding....

And you have the utter GALL to tell ME that YOU will not be silenced by the likes of me.

When every single person who reads this knows DAMN well that you and others like you only send me all these anons......

Because you want me to shut up and just never talk about these things again, as much if not more than I wish all these people would not even stop writing.....but rather just....would consider writing literally ANYTHING else instead.

But somehow, for some reason....when YOU want ME to stop talking....you’re not trying to silence me, or censor me, or any of those other things, oh know.

Its just me talking about my own damn feelings, experiences and opinions on my own damn blog.

THAT’S the real threat to fandom togetherness, community, and freedom of speech and personal autonomy.

LOL. Awfully convenient, wouldn’t you say?

But whatever. Its all good, anon. You go ahead and keep the moral high ground here. You’ve earned it, clearly.

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darkzorua100 · 5 years

Text

In works of fiction, one of the hardest things to do isn’t so much as writing a solid story but trying to find a way to end it with a satisfying conclusion. It could be a happy, sad, or all of the above as long as it fits the story that you have building up to at this point. After all, this is the last thing your viewers are going to be seeing. The last big take away before they have to move on. What is going to be the legacy of this fiction? A ending can make or break a series after all. Just look at Yu-Gi-Oh ARC-V for example. Looking back at it, it was such a groundbreaking entry into the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise for being the first series to make all the Extra Deck Summoning Mechanics relevant to the story instead of pushing them off to the side for the newest one in Pendulum at the time. It was a huge nostalgia trip by paying homage to the past series that came before it from using their locations for the different dimensions to bringing back past characters, in a way anyway, to the forefront. There is just so much more I could say about that spin-off but to put it in a nutshell, ARC-V just did so much right at the time but of course we all can’t forget that damn ending. The way that ARC-V ended just left pretty much everyone who had watched it from the very beginning with such a sour taste in our mouths. I don’t think I need to explain why, anyone who has seen the final knows exactly what I’m talking about, but yeah, it goes to show that a finale leaves a lasting impression and is pretty much why, even to this day, a majority of people consider ARC-V to be the worst Yu-Gi-Oh series to date.

So with all that being said, how did Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains finale do? Was it able to wrap everything up into a perfect little package with a nice bow on top? Well honestly, the package itself was a freaking mess and a half but I will say the bow on top wasn’t half bad for what it was worth. We all knew with Vrains ending way to early compared to the previous series that things were going to be getting rushed at the end but I will say that even if things were rushed, and it wasn’t the most satisfying ending they could have given us, what they did give us still left me feeling fulfilled and with Vrains being the absolute train wreck that it was, at the end of the day, I’ll call that a win.

So let’s start off with the final part of the Playmaker vs Ai duel. These two really were just full on neck and neck that it literally came down to their aces (because yes, Decode Talker is Playmaker’s true ace monster of show) batting each other, once again like from the opening, with Yusaku only being able to pull out the win in the end because Ai wanted to make sure that he was going to be able to finish him off during his turn. If his greed didn’t get the best of him, he would have actually won. That is actually really crazy to think about. At one point, just before Playmaker summoned Accesscode Talker, I seriously thought he was going to summon a Link 8 since he had the total Link Rating on his field with his three monsters plus Darkfluid being a Link 5 but nope, he summoned basically his new combination of the six Ignises in the form of a Code Talker (which all seem to be model after an Ignis anyway). I mean how he was actually able to summon out Accesscode was kinda BS but that’s just normal BS when it comes to the final duels in a Yu-Gi-Oh final. I’m still questioning how in the actual world did Yusaku not deck himself out during this duel. Seriously just how many cards did this boy go through? Way to many from the looks of things.

Now let’s talk about Playmaker and Ai scenes. My god, those shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did. Just at the beginning when Yusaku was telling Ai about how the bonds between others were the things that created the future, not predetermined simulations, and how Ai just couldn’t understand it just hurt right off the bat because I can understand why Ai can’t think that way. Just like he told Yusaku, he is data. To find a situation to a problem is all he knows. To base something with nothing to support it makes no sense to him especially when he can’t chance it. He has seen the alternative and my god, Ai. We didn’t even see the full simulation play out (but what we did see is definitely getting censored in the dub no questions there) but I could already tell what exactly played out. If Dr. Kogami was right about anything, it is that it is inevitable for humanity not to turn against artificial intelligence out of fear that they would one day surpass humanity and try and take us over or just kill us on the spot. I think the future we saw in that simulation was just that with Yusaku trying to convince them that Ai was no danger to humanity and well....we all saw how well that ended. Honestly I lowkey wished we got to see more of that simulation just to see the moment that Ai snaps and murders anyone. Because lets face it, Yusaku literally is the only family that Ai had left at that point. If something happened to him, Ai was actually going to snap. And it wasn’t even if something terrible would happen to him. Yusaku is still human while Ai is an artificial intelligence. If nothing happened to him, Yusaku would have just aged over time and eventually pass away while Ai would always remain immortal which once again would probably lead to a snap. I honestly don’t blame Ai for picking the path that he did in the end. Even if Lightning never showed him the first simulation, I don’t think it would have been long before Ai would have put the pieces together and start doing his own simulations. Ai was just a goner since the moment he was created as a A.I. with free-will. As for his death scene, I almost did start crying because things shouldn’t have had to have ended this way. I don’t care what Yusaku said. You should have took the fusion deal, young man. It worked out pretty freaking well for Judai and Yubel. Heck, regardless how stupid it was, the Yuu Boys and the Bracelet Girls were all still their own individual people too. I don’t see how that would be any different for you two, especially considering that Ai came from you, Yusaku. I have a lot of feelings about this but I will say that the moments that really hurt for me was when Ai asked Yusaku if he was a good partner, to which Yusaku answered “yes”, and when Yusaku explained to Ai that his name meant “love”. I actually didn’t think they were going to explain the meaning of Ai’s name in the show but I’m so thankful that they did but damn, that freaking hurt! Also Aiballshipping is canon. I actually find it hilarious that Ai stole Yusaku from Ryoken at the last second XD

As for everyone else’s endings. As much as it is still the most convenient bullsh*t ever, I am happy that Jin was able to move on after freaking years of being tormented by his PTSD and by Lightning in season 2 and is now happily working with his brother at the hot dog truck just like Kusanagi always wanted. I’m glad that they are slowly starting to make up for all the time that they have lost together because of this one incident. Aoi seems to be doing okay but I won’t lie, I was bit salty that Miyu wasn’t with her when she was visiting the brothers since it seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to be together and to show that their friendship is still strong after all of these years. Like what the heck? If they are going to force this stupid storyline on us, at least commit to it damn it! It has been three months and wait? Is she still in the damn hospital? Like we literally don’t know what happened to Miyu after all of this and I just find that infuriating but what’s new there? Akira is now CEO of SOL Technologies and I’m kinda mixed on how to feel about this. I mean we all were expecting this since the very beginning but again it is one of those things like what happened to Queen? Vrains threw away the rest of the Chess Pieces long ago but Queen was still a character. I mean I like to think that Queen just up and give Akira the company out of fear of being attacked again by someone else in the future but it is still one of those things that you wished you knew what happened to her as to how Akira got this position. It seems that Vrains has continued to grow and expand during this three month time skip and I don’t know if it was intentional or not but all the connections make it look like The Arrival Cyberse @Ignister and if that truly was the case that was a really nice detail to add, Vrains. Emma and Kengo seemed to have teamed up as a brother and sister bounty hunter team in the network which is fitting. Go is back to being his entertainer self to please his younger fans. I’m planning on giving my full thoughts about Vrains sometime later this week hopefully so I’m get into more detail about him and everyone else there. The Knights of Hanoi are taking Takeru’s declaration to heart and are watching over Link Vrains from Ryoken’s freaking cruise ship apparently while Ryoken and Spectre are watching over everything inside of Link Vrains. Now that Vrains is over, I officially have to ask. Where the actual hell is Ryoken getting all of this money from? Correction, WHERE IS HE GETTING ALL OF THESE BOATS FROM?! Geez and I thought we as a fandom were the shippers. This boy has a freaking navy of them in hiding.

HOMURA TAKERU GOT HIMSELF A GIRLFRIEND! MY BOY IS GETTING LAID TONIGHT!

No but seriously, before they showed the duel disks and just them sitting on the bed, my brain went places. The dialogue did not help. Yes my brain is extremely dirty but that’s besides the point.

ENTRUSTSHIPPING IS CANON! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

I like to think that wherever Flame ended up in the A.I. afterlife, he is looking down at Takeru with a proud smile during this moment. I also just find it fun that since Kiku doesn’t have an avatar, if anyone knows her in real life sees her in Link Vrains with Soulburner, they are obviously going to put the pieces together real quick about who Soulburner actually is. I’m in just such amazement right now over this even though I had any idea that something like this was going to happen. During the closing interviews from the VAs, Kaji Yuuki made a comment about how we were going to be seeing Takeru getting “unmasked” during the finale and I just knew that something like this was going to happen and I was not disappointed at all. I’m sorry but I just have such a huge sh*t eating grin across my face because of this.

THIS IS AWESOME!!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY ACTUALLY MADE THIS CANON!

How is it that Kiku, a freaking SIDE CHARACTER, ended up being my favorite female of Vrains? I don’t know, I’m just going to move on before I start freaking out again about these two being so freaking adorable.

I do like how Naoki, as soon as he saw these two, makes it his new goal to get himself a special someone of his own. I don’t know how that’s going to work out for him but hey good for him.

And as for Yusaku, the shows ends with him going on some kind of journey, leaving his final fate obscure which is pretty normal for a Yu-Gi-Oh series as they did the same in the past with Judai and Yusei. My guess he’s going around the network to try and find a way to bring back Ai and maybe the rest of the Ignis.

Speaking of which, the last scene we get of this series is that Ai is apparently alive. Maybe. Who actually knows. He could be in A.I. heaven for all we know but if that’s the case I feel they would have shown us a scene of him being greeted and welcomed by the rest of the Ignis but what we got of him instead was him in his eyeball form looking to be restored. Man Ai is literally like a cockroach and I am saying that in the nicest way possibly. He gets his data eaten by a dragon, tore to pieces by a Data Storm, destroyed by a powerful program, and even kills himself by his own hand and yet he still lives. I am very curious to know if anything is going to come from this reveal, such as if YGO 7 actually is a crossover series, or if this was just the writers giving us a break and letting us know that Ai is still alive and there is hope of him returning. I mean I’m happy he is alive, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like it would have just been fine keeping him dead with the rest of the Ignis. Because if he is still alive, won’t Ai just try and kill himself again? Seems kinda counterproductive but I digress.

So yeah, I very much enjoyed the final episode of Vrains. The series had a lot of problems, and I mean A LOT of them, but it had its shining moments, such as this. Like I said, I’m planning to go into more detail about my full thoughts about the series but when it comes to its ending, I think it delivered what it needed to. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains. You were a freaking struggle to watch at times but you were a joy to have around all the same. I guess the best compliment I can give you is that you literally are Ai. You are insufferable at times but you had your charm that kept me coming back for more and I’m sad to see you go just like I was with Ai.

Now it is onto Yu-Gi-Oh 7th and who knows. If it actually is a crossover series, Vrains might just be back sooner then we expect. I hope so because I’m not ready to say goodbye to my meme-lord and my fire child and his new girlfriend yet! I don’t think it has fully hit me yet that Vrains is actually over and it is going to suck when next week comes around and there is just no more episodes.

#vrains #vrains spoilers #Thoughts #theories

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rocket-remmy · 4 years

Text

Movie Magic|| Taylor and Remmy

Mirror, mirror, taped to the wall-- who the least human of them all?

CW: mild ablest language mention

The real question of the week was, how did you clean an apartment that felt as if the grime was an inherent part of decor? As if it were just part of the apartment itself. Remmy stood in the middle of the studio, looking from the derelict living room, with only a TV stand and fold up table next to the window, to their bed pushed all the way to the other side of the room next to the closet. They’d asked the front desk to borrow the vacuum and when they were handed a little hand vacuum, had exasperatedly run back up to the apartment and spent the next two hours kneeling on carpet as they vacuumed up as much as they could. It gave up almost ¾ of the way through the job, so Remmy had pushed the mattress over what hadn’t been vacuumed. That still left the fact that Remmy didn’t have a couch. There were two fold up lawn chairs at what was supposed to pass as a dining table, but Remmy didn’t see those as being too comfortable for prolonged movie watching. Frowning, they decided to pile up the pillows and blankets against the wall and push the TV stand down so that it was at the foot of the bed. A good enough solution for now, but perhaps the idea of a couch should be added to their list of things to get. Remmy spent more time over at Blanche’s place than their own most days, but a couch was probably a good idea. But it would have to wait, because there was more cleaning to be done before Taylor got there.

When Remmy was satisfied enough with the cleanliness of the place, they glanced at the clock. Not too long now, but they reeked of the same must the apartment always seemed to have, so it was a quick shower and a quick change of clothes. They were just drying their hair, noticing how long it’d gotten-- perhaps they needed a haircut too, they couldn’t remember the last time they’d gotten one-- when there was a knock at the door. Moose, from his perch on the bed, looked up, and Remmy stumbled out of the bathroom.

Remmy lived completely across town from Taylor, and she was very concerned with being late. She’d done her best to look good for this little movie night of theirs. Remmy was cute, and Taylor would be lying to herself if she claimed she didn’t want to impress them. She vainly knew it wouldn’t take much, if their kiss was anything to go by, but still. She’d opted for a tight black tank top, black jeans, topped off with a flannel for a splash of color. She’d freshly shaved the sides of her head and put on some aftershave on her neck, her version of perfume. All that, blowdrying her hair, doing her makeup, it had taken longer than she anticipated, and she showed up at Gallows End Estates fifteen minutes after they’d agreed on. Hopefully Remmy was okay with fashionably late. She climbed the stairs to their apartment number, not particularly bothered by the less than stellar exterior of the building. With a quick knock, she signaled her arrival and waited patiently, a bit of a knot forming in her stomach suddenly.

“Coming! Sorry!” they said, hurrying over and unlocking the door, throwing it open. A smile seemed to automatically pull itself onto Remmy’s face when they opened the door and Taylor was there. “You made it!” they blurted, then pressed their lips together in a thin line. “I mean-- of course you made! You said you would. It’s not like you wouldn’t. I didn’t think you wouldn’t show up! I don’t think you’re that kind of person! It was just, um--” God, Rem, shut up. Even Moose seemed embarrassed by their rambling already, sighing as he turned his head away to lay back down on the bed. “Sorry. I’ll um--” stepped out of the way and ushered Taylor to come inside. “It’s uh...not much! But it’s home. For now.” A pause. “I hope.”

The moment she laid eyes on Remmy, Taylor smiled to match theirs. “I sure did,” she echoed, her smile spreading even wider as Remmy rambled. They hadn’t changed a bit since that night. It was easy to forget what they were like in person when it was easier to censor words on the internet. Taylor liked it. Listening to their subconcious pouring out felt so unfiltered and raw, something Taylor could appreciate since she used that same technique sometimes to write her music. “I’d never stand you up, you don’t gotta worry about that,” Taylor reassured, walking in as Remmy stepped out of the way. They were right, the apartment really wasn’t much, but they’d tried their best. She could tell they’d cleaned, and just that made Taylor smile. “So what’s on the docket for movies? Got anything picked out?”

Movies. That’s what Remmy had forgot! Idiot. “Oh, um--” they closed the door behind Taylor and redid the latch before scurrying over to the TV stand and throwing it open. “Let’s see uh...Blanche brought a bunch more over the other day. I know you said you like horror, I think there’s a few horror here….Or i’ve got this weird collection box that’s supposed to be all the hits from the past few years. Um...Date Movie?” Their breath caught immediately after saying the name. “Or uh-- something called Baby Driver? And um-- the newest Alien movie. I watched all the old ones when I was a kid, but I don’t really remember them much. Oh, she also brought me this collection of all five Final Destination movies. So really it’s um--” stopped, realized they’d talked almost without taking a breath or pause for two minutes. “S-sorry...I don’t um...have people over often.” Moose gave a huff, as if to further the point. Remmy looked over at Taylor from their spot crouched in front of the TV stand. “It’s uh...your pick.”

Taylor had forgotten to bring movies as well. She’d meant to, but she was already so late she’d left the stack she’d picked out on her kitchen counter. Luckily Remmy did have a bit of a selection. Nothing really stuck out to her until their final suggestion though. “I love the Final Destination movies! I hope you have snacks though. They weirdly always make me hungry. Marathon?” she suggested, still standing right inside the doorway. She was a bit nervous to approach Moose since last time. “I brought Moose a peace offering,” she said, reaching into her inside jacket pocket and pulling out the locally sourced bone she’d bought for him.

“Oh, um, yeah!” Remmy said, perking up as they pulled out the movie collection. “I’ve got plenty of snacks. Blanche stocked up my fridge last week and I haven’t even made a dent in most of the food yet.” They set the DVD down on the TV and padded over to the little minifridge in the wanna be kitchenette are and popped it open. They’re “pantry” was a metal shelf next to the window. “I’ve got like...chips. Popcorn! It’s microwave popcorn though, there’s no stove here. Um...soup? Some weird cheese crackers. Applesauce? Weird…” They glanced back over at Taylor, noticing her still standing in the doorway. “Oh, you can um-- come sit down or something? He’s fine. He’s just mad about the vacuum,” they said, coming over to her and holding out their hand for the bone. “You can give it to him! I-if you want.”

How much Remmy seemed to mention Blanche both warmed Taylor’s heart and, well, slightly worried her. They were a lot closer than Taylor thought. No wonder Remmy had freaked. But Blanche was taking care of Remmy too it seemed. Lending them movies, stocking their fridge. It was all very cute and domestic. “Can’t have a movie without popcorn, right?” Taylor commented, grinning over at them. They were so accommodating. So cute. Her nervous energy must have been written on her face though. “Are you sure? He didn’t like me much last time.” She tried to take Miles’ advice and not be so tense. Relax and try not to expect the worst. “Help me give it to him?” she suggested, holding the bone out for Remmy so they could both hand it to Moose.

“Oh, yeah!” Remmy said, their face lighting up. “Good idea! Maybe if he sees me helping you, he’ll be less worried.” They took the bone in one hand and motioned for Taylor to follow them over to Moose, who had been watching the whole scene from the bed, his head laying atop his big paws. He lifted his head when they got closer. “C’mere bud,” Remmy said, crouching, “want a treat?” He stayed on the bed for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to trust the new person in his house, before standing, too tempted by the smell of the fresh bone. Though his ears still pressed back, he tentatively took the bone from them, turned, and padded to a corner of the room, laying down to enjoy his new treat. “There! That went much better.”

Taylor smiled proudly as Moose took the bone and padded away. At least he hadn’t growled that time. “Still don’t think he likes me, but we’re getting there,” she said. “Right Moose?” But he was fat too busy picking at his bone to pay attention to her. So Taylor moved to climb on top of the bed, huddling herself in the little seating area made of pillows. “This is nice,” she said softly. Remmy had clearly made an effort, and Taylor appreciated it. “You’re a good host, Rem.” She bit her lip as she watched Remmy in the little kitchenette. “It okay if I call you that?”

“Oh, uh-- thanks! I um...tried. It’s hard to make this place um...look good,” Remmy said as they went back over to the kitchenette to gather snacks. Stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave and hit cook. “Oh, yeah! That’s-- that’s totally fine! I don’t mind. The guys in bootcamp all called me different things, so really I’m used to being called by whatever. Uh-- I have lemonade, ginger ale, or sweet tea to drink. Or water?” They looked back over at Taylor on the bed and felt that flush of warmth in their cheeks again, hiding it behind the fridge door.

“Sweet tea please,” Taylor requested, catching Remmy’s blush no matter how much they tried to hide it. “If it makes you feel any better my houseboat doesn’t look too hot right now. Gotta replace some floorboards and shit. Flooding left a lot of water damage.” She looked around, realizing that sounded like a backhanded compliment. “I’m serious though, this place looks great. I’m honored by your effort. You really didn’t have to.”

“Oh, no,” Remmy said, reappearing from behind the fridge with two sweet teas and handing one over to Taylor. “I really did. I don’t think-- I don’t think I’ve cleaned since I moved in like two months ago. It needed it. Guess I just needed an excuse to make it look good.” A brief grin, before they cleared their throat and stumbled back to the TV. “So, uh...you really like these movies? I’ve never seen ‘em...what’re they about?” they asked, popping in the first disc and pushing play. Luckily, the TV they’d snagged had come with a built in DVD player. At least there was that.

Taylor graciously took the sweet tea and took a sip, watching Remmy closely. For being such an anxious open book, sometimes they were hard to read. She could feel the nervous energy wafting off of them. Or maybe that was just her own. “Yeah! It’s about someone having a vision of some horrible accident that kills them and a bunch of other people, and then they save some of the people when they freak out about the vision.” She grinned and lifted her finger, wagging it in front of her face. “But you can’t cheat death, and he comes to collect the lives he was robbed of.” She sat back again, patting the space on the bed beside her to urge them to join her. “It might sound like I just spoiled it, but they’ve all got the same formula. It’s the creative and gory kills we’re here for.”

Just be cool, Morgan had said, just be yourself! Remmy nodded, crawling over to the spot next to Taylor, settling next to her. Their face felt warmer again. “Oh that’s-- that’s a crazy concept for a movie! Sounds kinda scary.” They popped open the popcorn bag and held it over to Taylor. “It’s the super buttery kind, hope you like butter,” they chuckled, not noticing quite how hot the bag was. They didn’t really feel much anymore, physically. It left them craving to feel touch, of any kind. “Creative kills,” they said, “never thought I’d hear that as a sentence.” Another toothy grin, crooked on their face.

“It’s okay,” Taylor said, instinctively tucking her arm over Remmy’s shoulders. Not even trying to be smooth or anything. It just felt more comfortable. “I’ll protect you if it gets too scary,” she teased, plunging her hand into the popcorn bag. It was a bit too hot and she winced, but came out with a greasy handful anyway. “Oh I love butter. Best thing about the movies, really.” Taylor mirrored that cute little grin of Remmy’s, having to stop herself from kissing them. It was too much too early. She knew they were nervous, and the last thing she wanted was to make them feel used somehow. “I’ve been obsessed with gory movies ever since I was a kid. Always made me weirdly hungry too,” she admitted, shoveling her handful of popcorn in her mouth. “When I’d get too scared or weirded out by it though, I’d always just think about how the filmmakers pulled it off. Like what sort of effects and shit they had to use. When you imagine someone lying on the floor under a dude wearing a latex torso, pumping fake blood out of a tube, everything gets a lot less scary.”

Remmy felt their chest tighten again as Taylor hooked an arm around their shoulders. They’d craved human touch for so long, and now all they could do was sit stiffly. They remembered how nice it had felt to lay on Morgan’s shoulder, wrapped in her blanket burrito, why did this feel different? They eventually let themself lean into the touch, if only slightly. “I was never too bothered by gore, but I’m a sucker for jump scares. Don’t let me hold the popcorn, it’ll-it’ll go everywhere, probably,” they chuckled. Raised a brow, looking over at Taylor before back to the movie. A bunch of kids were crowding through an airport. “Really? Is that how they do it? I’ve never thought of things like that. Guess that’s why I’m a sucker at watching scary movies and stuff.”

Taylor could feel the stiffness in Remmy, and she rubbed her hand on their arm as she pulled them a bit closer to her. Even with all the anxious energy, they were a calming presence to Taylor. “Jump scares don’t bother me much. I like to be scared. Gives me a logical place to focus my anxiety. Like look, this thing on the screen, I’m supposed to be scared of it. Not of a conversation I had three years ago that suddenly popped into my head, you know?” She shrugged, turning her face slightly to get a better look at them. “Speaking or gore...which one was it?” She asked, looking down at Remmy’s body. She might as well rip the bandaid off. “Which arm?”

“I can get that,” Remmy said, choosing their words a little carefully. The doctor’s had said they would probably experience some form of anxiety once back at home, but they hadn’t told them what it would look or feel like. “I was taught mostly how to um-- focus my mind on small tasks, so that it didn’t start making anxious thoughts. So it’s kinda the same thing? They’d have us do like puzzles and word searches a lot at the halfway house.” Remmy froze when Taylor mentioned their arm. They stayed very still for a moment, before looking down at their hands in their lap. They didn’t wanna talk about it. They knew they probably needed to, but they really didn’t want to. Especially not with someone they might like. Like, like like. Remmy bit their lip. “Um...the-uh-- the right one.”

“That makes sense,” Taylor said. She was completely ignoring the movie now, focusing on Remmy. That was what putting on a cheesy movie was for though, right? So you could just talk over it and still have background noise. “I can see why jump scares would get to you though, with your PTSD.” She wanted to be sensitive about it, but she felt like tiptoeing around the right words would just sound condescending. “The biggest jump scares in these flicks are explosions, but we’ll keep it turned down.” She could feel Remmy stiffen under her grip, and she just gripped them tighter in return, holding them closer to her body. “What happened?” she asked gently. “I’m not gonna judge.”

“With the--” Remmy started, but stopped. All the doctor’s had said they would probably experience stress symptoms for a while after getting back, Remmy just figured that was what happened. And then it would get better. Like all wounds. That’s what Moose was for, right now. To help them heal. “Right. Yeah. It’s not so bad. It um-- should be fine. I think I’m just super gullible, is the main thing.” They somehow found talking about that easier than wrapping their head around telling Taylor about their missing arm. “Uh...we went down to the beach. To uh-- get pictures of the chest. But instead, a bunch of those um-- giant lobster things? Showed up and swarmed the beach and...we ran towards the shelter for safety, but they were getting close so I tried to like...hit one. And it--” they stopped suddenly, shaking their head. “It sounds insane. Even when i say it. Like, it happened to me, I was right there, and other people saw it but-- it’s just insane. Things like that don’t happen.”

Taylor hoped she hadn’t said something wrong, but the moment passed before she had a chance to clarify. Maybe being so blunt hadn’t been the right route to go. She was quiet as she listened to their story, nodding along, her mouth slowly dropping open as they went on. She’d heard of the giant lobster things, but she hadn’t actually seen one yet, surprisingly. “We? Who was you with?” she began, before shaking her head. That really wasn’t the most important question, but now she understood why they’d went back alone. As much as Taylor could chastise them for it, she probably would have done the same thing. “Well, things like that do happen, clearly.” Taylor picked up their right hand and brought the knuckles to her lips, giving them a soft kiss before lowering their hand and holding it in her own. “Like I said, I’ve seen some weird shit…” Her voice faded. Was she really ready to tell someone else?

“Oh, um...Blanche and Cece,” Remmy answered quietly. “Blanche said she was gonna go whether or not I was with her, so I kinda had to let her come...But I told her to stay by the car! And of course she didn’t! Cece was just happening by I guess. But they both jumped down to try and get me away from the lobsters, and we ran, and it--” they paused again, watching, entranced, as Taylor lifted their hand to brush her lips over their knuckles. Their head felt very light, suddenly. “I, um….before you….you should know I…” they looked at their hands interlocked. “I don’t think I’m human.”

She didn’t know who Cece was, but hearing that Blanche was with them at the time, it was all starting to make sense now. It sounded very Blanche to jump into action like that too. Taylor almost chuckled at the thought, but stifled herself. She noticed how Remmy’s voice completely cut off when she touched them, and it made her grin ever so slightly. But what they said next caused Taylor’s face to drop, and the gears in her mind to turn, slow and rusty feeling. “Can I be honest with you, Rem?” she whispered, nudging their chin to look her in the eye. “I don’t think I am either.”

Remmy felt like they were going to vibrate out of their skin with the silence hanging between them. Oh, god, they’d scared Taylor off, hadn’t they? She was going to get and leave and never talk to Remmy again. Because their arm had ripped off and regrown, and because they were too much to handle, and because they probably weren’t human, and-- “Wait,” they looked up when the words registered. I don’t think I am either. “You’re--” they didn’t really know what to say, so they said the first thing that came to mind. “Are you a bear?”

Taylor let out a huff of a laugh, brow furrowed at the question. “A bear? What? No!” Where had they even gotten that from? “This isn’t a joke,” Taylor snapped, but her voice softened just as quick as it had spiked. “Let me show you. Come here,” she said, climbing up out of the bed and tugging Remmy along with her toward the bathroom. Luckily, they had a mirror above the sink. Before Remmy entered, she held them at arms length in the doorway. “Promise you won’t be scared?” she asked, biting her lip. “Only one other person knows about this.”

“Oh, I--” Remmy started, “I wasn’t joking! I’m sorry if you thought-- I saw someone turn into a bear. They’re the only um-- non human I know.” They picked themself up after Taylor, following her towards the dinky little bathroom. Luckily they’d just recently taped a small vanity mirror up to the wall (poorly). “Oh, um, I-I promise. Why would I be scared? I mean-- I won’t be scared. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Taylor decided to leave the bear questions for another time, nodding as Remmy promised not to be scared. “Okay...okay…” She took a deep breath. Then again. She could still back out of this if she wanted to. It wasn’t too late. But before she could make that decision, she tugged Remmy into the bathroom, letting them get a full view of her reflection. While a normal looking Taylor stood next to them, in the reflection stood a scary visage. Sharp, pointed teeth, feathered face, fleshy but scaley skin, and large wings folded close to her body where her arms should be. “I’ve seen this in the mirror for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what it means, but it’s not normal.” Her lips were synced perfectly with the feathered reflection. “I used to think she was someone else. Like I was being haunted by a demon. But as time’s went on I...I think that is me.” She looked over to Remmy, nervous to see their reaction.

Remmy stayed still as Taylor gathered herself. Admitting something like this must’ve been hard. Remmy still hadn't 100% accepted that they weren’t human, but that lady Lydia online seemed to think so, and so did Morgan, and even Cece. It wasn’t normal to regrow an arm. Taylor tugged them inside and Remmy’s eyes met the creature in the mirror. Were they seeing that right? Was it a trick of the eye? No...Taylor’s mouth moved in tandem with the bird in the mirror. Someone on the TV was screaming about something, but Remmy just stared for a while. “So you’re a bird?” they finally said, turning to look at the human looking Taylor standing next to them. “That’s cool! I think? Is it cool? Is it weird that I said that? Can you like...turn into that bid? The person I met that was a bear was able to just...turn into it. It was weird and kinda scary but they seemed nice enough. And like, you’re nice and you’re not like..hurting me or anyone! And like, if magic and vampires and bear people exist, why not bird people? So it’s cool. Right?”

Remmy’s reaction hadn’t been at all what Taylor had expected. They were freaking out about regrowing an arm (admittedly weird) but was totally fine with Taylor’s reflection being a fucking bird monster? The logic didn’t add up in Taylor’s head. “Well, I haven’t turned into one yet. Besides, I’m scared of heights, so no flying for me!” She attempted to joke off her nervous energy. “You really think this is cool? This is terrifying, Rem. What am I?” She was trying not to be too dramatic, but she was prone to it by nature. This conversation wasn’t really about her, in the long run. She moved to sit down on the toilet lid, holding her head in her hands, only looking up when Remmy spoke again. “Magic and vampires? You’re joking, right?”

“O-Okay,” Remmy said, scratching the back of their head, suddenly nervous they’d upset Taylor. “M-maybe ‘cool’ isn’t exactly the right word but I’m-- I’m really not good with words. As I’m sure you’ve figured out. I just! I don’t think it’s like-- it’s not bad! I’ve found out a lot of really strange things exist in like the past two weeks and it’s a little exhausting and maybe it’s easier for me to just believe these things at face value? Like I just found out I can see ghosts now, and it’s like-- have I always been able to see them and not known? Or is this a new thing? Is it like...just here? Pretty sure I didn’t see any ghosts in Afghanistan. O-or Pakistan. Or at boot camp. Pretty sure I didn’t eat raw meat before, yet here we are! So, like-- if all that is possible, of course magic is. Plus I literally saw it happen right before my eyes, and yeah, maybe I was a little out of it at the time cause my arm was regrowing right before my eyes, but-- it happened! And I saw it! And, yes! Vampires! I’m being serious! They attacked Blanche! How else do you explain that chest on the beach making people cold without like...giving them hypothermia? I guess maybe it just makes sense to me. A-and maybe I don’t know what you are or what I am, but it’s not-- it’s not a bad thing, I don’t think! It’s confusing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s--” Remmy suddenly stopped. They realized they hadn’t taken a breath in that entire ramble. “S-sorry…” they said quietly, sinking to the floor in the doorway. “I ramble when I’m...nervous...I guess it’s a little more shocking than I thought, you being...your reflection….” they paused again, wordlessly reaching out and grabbing the razorblade sitting on the sink. They held out their hand. “Watch.” was all they said, before running the blade smoothly along their skin, cutting it wide open. But no blood spewed, no wincing, no pain. The skin fell back in place, seamlessly growing itself back together in just a few moments. “So...I’m kinda freak out about me, too.”

For a moment Taylor thought they were legitimately making fun of her. That the arm thing was all fake and she’d fallen for it and maybe they didn’t even see anything in the reflection. Maybe they were playing her for a goddamn fool. But she should have known better. Remmy probably didn’t even know how to intentionally hurt someone’s feelings. She let her face soften as they spoke, trying to take in the rambling they put forth. It was...a hell of a lot of information all at once. She felt her eyes going wide, almost feeling out of breath herself as they just kept going, and going, and going. “It’s okay,” she said softly as they sank to the ground. Before she could say anything else, they were cutting their skin and it...didn’t bleed? “What the fuck…?” she whispered as she watched it heal back up almost instantly. “That’s some Wolverine shit. Fuck.” So they hadn’t been lying about the arm, that was for sure. “Okay, yeah, I believe you that some weird shit is going on in this town. Weird people. And we’re just a couple of freaks.” She lifted her shirt and showed Remmy her belly button. Or lack thereof. Just a realistic looking tattoo. “I never had a belly button. My Dad said it was just a birth defect for whatever but…” she let her shirt drop again. “Goddamn, my head feels like it’s spinning, Rem. Can I have some water?”

“Freaks?” Remmy said, their face contorting. They didn’t like that word. They’d heard it a lot as a kid. Freak, couldn’t look people in the eyes. Freak, counting their steps, starting over if they got out of order. Freak, had to open and close their locker three times before taking anything out. Remmy shook their head vigorously. “We-we’re not freaks. Just different. Just...different.” Remmy’s eyes fell to the emptiness of Taylor’s stomach, save the tattoo. They’d never heard of people being born without belly buttons, but with everything else that they were finding out, it was the least weird. “Water. Right! I can...I can do that!” They scrambled up, feeling suddenly cramped in the small bathroom, that shaky feeling in their hands that they got when they heard a loud noise. Grabbed the water filter jug from the fridge and poured out two glasses, bringing one back to Taylor, staying a little outside the doorway this time, hands clutched around the glass. “So, um....some dude just got his head cut off on the TV. Should I pause it?”

Taylor thought she might have offended Remmy with her words, but she stayed silent. Different. That didn’t sound much better in her mind. But then again, the age old emo kid question, what was normal anyway? Definitely not all this. As Remmy scrambled to get water Taylor stayed put and just tried to gather herself. Process everything she’d just heard and seen into something coherent and digestible. It was a hard ask, for sure. When they returned, Taylor graciously took the glass and chugged it all down, not realizing how thirsty she’d been. She let out a small chuckle at their words and got up, setting her glass on the sink as she approached them, reaching up to brush some hair out of their eyes. “Whatever is up with us, whatever we are, we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Together.” She caressed their cheek as she smiled the smallest of smiles at them, unintentionally ignoring their question.

Remmy stayed still as Taylor stood up, fingers brushing their cheek again, kinda like that first night they’d met. They swallowed, a lump in their throat. “O-oh, you...you don’t have to um, worry about me. I’ll be fine! I’m more interested in um-- helping other people out, you know? Whatever is up with me, I-I’m sure it’ll work itself out,” they said quickly, not quite moving from their spot, but not quite responding to the touch yet. They gripped the water glass tightly, not even noticing the little crack their pressure was putting on the plastic. “Um-- I-I know I gave you a lot of stuff to um, process, so if you wanna like...just sit that’s cool. I’m cool with that. Or we can like, go for a walk. It’s not very um-- scenic around here. But there’s a hiking trail! Or i-if you just wanna go home, th-that’s okay, too! I don’t mind. I’d understand.”

Taylor was such a hypocrite sometimes. The same things that came from Remmy’s mouth she could hear herself saying. ‘Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine’. But hearing Remmy say it, touching their skin, she could practically feel how they thought of themself. It almost hurt. She’d always been able to relate to people in a deeper level than was probably normal, but she’d never felt such strong empathy for someone before. It was almost a little too intense. “Let’s uh, lets go for a walk,” she said, nodding and taking a step past them and out of the cramped bathroom. “I think I need some fresh air.

Had they said something wrong? Remmy watched Taylor step by them, noticing their eyes pool from a cool green to deep brown. That was weird. They were a familiar color, though, distracting Remmy a moment. Something about them felt...sad. “O-Okay…” they said, following after her. “Hold on.” They made their way over to the dresser next to the bed and grabbed Moose’s lead, bending down to put it on him. Their hands were almost shaking and they weren’t sure why. Stood back up, looking over at Taylor. “I….” they weren’t sure what they wanted to say, but they wanted to say something, “Sorry. Today was supposed to be...nice. Not...this…”

Taylor waited as Remmy got Moose ready to go, and once they were she pulled open the door and held it for them and Moose to pass. “It’s fine, Rem,” she said, her voice holding an edge of exasperation, but she quickly stifled it, swallowing it down before she spoke again. “It was nice, in its own weird way.” She watched as Remmy and Moose passed and shut the door behind them, following them outside. She caught up and laced her hand with Remmy’s free one that wasn’t holding Moose’s lead. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Remmy said, “No problem. I-I mean, why wouldn’t I? You haven’t done anything to make me not trust or believe you.” Maybe that was a naive way of looking at things, but Remmy wasn’t a skeptic. They trusted people at face value, they believed them because, to them, no one had a reason to lie. It had backfired on them quite a few times, but it wasn’t in them to not trust other people because of someone else’s faults. They squeezed Taylor’s hand. Moose was being awful good, not even a growl. “Hey, um-- have your eyes always done that? The uh, color changing thing?”

Taylor just grinned at their response. Of course. God, they were far too kind for their own good. It honestly worried Taylor a bit. One day someone would take advantage of them and their kindness if they weren’t careful. “What?” she asked, brows furrowed. “My eyes changed color?” She dug her phone out of her pocket with her free hand and looked at herself in it. The only way she could see her normal reflection. “What the fuck…?” she breathed. “My eyes are brown now? What the fuck?” She stopped in her tracks, just staring into her own eyes. They still looked like her own, but darker. Heavier. Full of something that didn’t belong to her. She looked over to Remmy. “You think this has something to do with...you know?”

They’d only just made it down the stairs and into the courtyard when Taylor slowed to a stop, pulling out her phone. Okay, so not normal. That was...kinda good to know. Remmy blinked, letting her parse it out herself, biting their bottom lip. “I mean, could be?” they said, “Here, lemme see,” they motioned for Taylor to turn towards them. “Maybe it’s just the lighting out here? O-or inside?” Or magic. Or whatever it was Taylor was. Remmy’s head was beginning to swim a little, too, as if something at the back of their mind was pushing to be free, to be remembered.

“No, they definitely changed color. Maybe they’re brown now because I’m full of shit,” Taylor attempted to joke, but a smile didn’t accompany her laugh, so it just sounded harsh and dry. “This is insane.” She was freaking out more about this than hearing about Remmy’s arm. She was honestly surprised by how calm she’d been about that. What did that say about her? “I think I...need to go home.” She reaches out and put a hand on Remmy’s shoulder. “It’s not you. I love spending time with you. We’ll watch those stupid movies properly someday. I think I’m just too spooked right now. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yeah, no-- i’ts--” Remmy started, stuttered, stopped. “Yeah, that’s-- I get it.” Of course Taylor wanted to deal with this alone. She didn’t need Remmy sticking their nose in and trying to help. “You, um-- me, too. I mean, spending time with you. I like...doing that. Like that, too.” Their eyes flitted up to Taylor’s, but that palpitation that rumbled in their chest whenever they made eye contact started up and they had to look down. They were so familiar, so warm, so...Moose’s cold nose pressed against their palm. “Right, yeah. Rain check! I’ll take a rain check on the movie night. I-I-I promise I won’t um-- watch them without you. See?” Lifted their hand, fingers crossed. “Promise.” They remembered, now, whose eyes were that color. That soft, creamy chocolate color. “I um-- I hope you-- feel better.” Moose whined.

Taylor could slightly feel Remmy’s sudden distress and she did her best to calm them, leaning forward and giving them a peck on the cheek. “You too, babe. Like I said, we’ll figure this out.” She leaned down to Moose, hesitant around first but trying to stay confident, giving him a quick pat on the head. His ears were back like always, but he didn’t growl. Progress. “Until next time,” she said, before making her way back to her truck. Once she climbed in, she leaned her head on the steering wheel, taking a few steadying breaths before pulling her phone back out again. She had to get a proper picture of this. But when she looked this time, her eyes were green again. “What the fuck….?”

“Until next time,” they repeated. Remmy stayed put for a long time after Taylor walked off. Moose stayed with them, whining quietly, pressing his nose against their hand, but they didn’t feel it anymore. Why had Taylor’s eyes done that? Was it because of Remmy? Or something else? Why had they turned that color? Remmy didn’t want more questions. They already had so much on their mind. But they liked Taylor. Maybe more than they’d even initially thought. Would her eyes always be that color with Remmy? They didn’t wanna be reminded of him every time they looked at her. Of Dario. Remmy blinked, eyes suddenly cloudy. Moose tugged on his lead, pulling them back towards the apartment. They followed, mindlessly. Stepped inside. Someone on the TV got hit by a falling building sign. Remmy slid to the floor and put their head in their hands, unmoving. The credits rolled.

#chatzy #chatzy: taylor #taylor #movie magic #it's taylor she's the leats human xoxo #shhh don't tell

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dweemeister · 4 years

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NOTE: This review contains full spoilers.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

The ninth installment of the Skywalker saga is not only the conclusion to the Star Wars sequel trilogy, but to a decade where the Walt Disney Company has asserted itself as the most powerful entertainment company that has ever existed. The company, led by Chairman and CEO Bob Iger, is unrecognizable from where it was a decade ago, with Walt Disney Motion Pictures dominating, if not outright monopolizing, theater screens internationally. Unlike the movie moguls of yore such as Darryl F. Zanuck (20th Century Fox), Mack Sennett (Keystone Studios), David O. Selznick (Selznick International), or Jack Warner (Warner Bros.), Iger has a business background, not an artistic one. His respective $4 billion purchases of Lucasfilm and Marvel were decisions not made from cinematic considerations, but financial ones. The conservative artistry seen in Disney’s films in 2019 – including that other enormous blockbuster of the year, Avengers: Endgame – has evidenced where the company’s soul is. This is not the House of Mouse of Walt Disney, which ceased to be in 1968 after the final films Walt produced before his death were released to theaters.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker is directed and co-written by J.J. Abrams (the other co-writer is Chris Terrio), who directed The Force Awakens (2015). The film goes out of its way to repudiate Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi (2017), which – though valued more than its predecessor by yours truly – unleashed a torrent of intra-fandom acrimony rooted in racism; sexism; and an unhealthy, uncritical merger of personal identity and pop culture franchise. This is not to absolve The Last Jedi of its plentiful shortcomings, but to comment on where the Star Wars fandom is upon the release of The Rise of Skywalker. The Rise of Skywalker is more of a continuation of The Force Awakens, and this includes Abrams’ propensity to craft variations on existing material. Yet even the most creative decisions in this ninth Star Wars episode are hampered by poor filmmaking, two-and-a-half films worth of plot stuffed into one, dreadful writing resulting in thematic inconsistencies and canonical contradictions that will be explained away in some novel or video game, and an obvious lack of planning. The most concerning thing is that Star Wars’ reputation – despite my description of the series four years ago as, “a pastiche and always has been” – as an innovative force in cinema (even the prequels) has been lost. This is not the Star Wars of George Lucas, which ceased to be after Disney’s acquisition of Lucasfilm.

Without warning or foreshadowing, the opening crawl immediately states that Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) – who appeared to have died in Return of the Jedi (1983) – has broadcasted an ominous message to the galaxy. This message, which you can hear exclusively on Fortnite (this is not a joke), has caused widespread anxiety but, most importantly, has led Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) to Palpatine’s whereabouts. Palpatine has been orchestrating everything to seduce Kylo to the dark side, also revealing to the erstwhile Ben Solo that he has commissioned a fleet that will bolster the First Order’s by ten thousand-fold – a fleet that will send shivers down the spines of accountants anywhere. Elsewhere, Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher posthumously) is finalizing Rey’s (Daisy Ridley) Jedi training as Finn (John Boyega) and Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac; whose character is now Leia’s successor apparent) learn of the name of the planet where Palpatine is hiding, thanks to a well-placed spy. What follows is a series of fetch quests with the three central sequel trilogy heroes, accompanied by Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), BB-8 (operated by David Chapman and Brian Herring), and C-3PO (Anthony Daniels).

The film features many others, most notably Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams), Resistance ally Jannah (Naomi Ackie), First Order General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), Allegiant General Pride (Richard E. Grant doing his best Peter Cushing impression), Poe’s friend/acquaintance/Abrams and Terrio’s written excuse to make him straight Zorii Bliss (Keri Russell), and R2-D2 (Hassan Taj and Lee Towersey). Lupita Nyong’o’s Maz Kanata returns in a glorified cameo; a handful of deceased characters make postmortem appearances.

Rose Tico made Kelly Marie Tran the first (and only) non-white actress to play a lead role in a Star Wars film. The character, along with John Boyega’s Finn, was given a poorly-written C-plot in The Last Jedi – Tran (who was subjected to online abuse prior to and after The Last Jedi’s release) and Boyega did their damndest in some of the worst sequences Star Wars has. The filmmakers (it is not exactly clear who is responsible, whether it is the screenwriters or the producers) have capitulated to the online trolls who attacked Tran (and her character) for her appearance, gender, and race. Her exclusion and other decisions in this film dispose entirely The Last Jedi’s antithesis that one need not be from a hallowed bloodline or an exclusive order to exemplify the bravery, compassion, and service to others that is celebrated within and beyond Star Wars. Rose Tico, described as, “the heart of [The Last Jedi]”, is an embodiment of the idea that the consequences of the multigenerational violence initiated or inspired by the Skywalkers – and, by extension, the centuries-old conflict between the Jedi and the Sith – are felt most by those without Force capabilities, military or political power. The Rise of Skywalker, through its treatment of Rose Tico among other storytelling choices, openly rejects this commentary and opportunity to present an untold perspective in favor of dynastic interests and expositional excess.

For Finn and Poe, The Rise of Skywalker represents another missed opportunity for character development. Finn, from the moment he appears onscreen, is too busy speaking expository points. Poe is given a lady friend so that homophobic censors around the world do not give Disney’s distribution managers a difficult time. The interest surrounding Rey (whose arc, as a mythic hero finally realizing her horrible family history as a Palpatine, comes to a merely satisfactory conclusion in The Rise of Skywalker) and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo – and yes, that includes their bewildering relationship that Abrams himself cannot coherently explain – will be endlessly debated in greater detail by others with a greater emotional affinity for Star Wars.

As the embodiment for the First Order for almost all the sequel trilogy, Kylo Ren’s/Ben Solo’s about face to the light after being stabbed in the stomach by Rey is unconvincing. This is a character who has been presented with numerous opportunities to renounce the ways of the dark side of the Force and has spurned each opportunity – even after becoming Supreme Leader of the First Order in The Last Jedi, with no authority figure influencing his conduct, and fully understanding the difference between right and wrong. He has acted predatory towards Rey in the form of physical threats and has demonstrated no willingness to change. Abrams and Terrio’s solution is to have Kylo Ren hallucinate a forgiving Han Solo (Harrison Ford, uncredited) to inspire this change – they might as well have had an angel and devil on Kylo Ren’s opposing shoulders because it would have been just as believable.

Too many aspects of The Rise of Skywalker depend on fanservice. The appearances of individuals like Lando Calrissian and Luke Skywalker’s Force ghost (Mark Hamill) are welcome, but do not add enough to the film from what the filmmakers are intending. The introduction of new characters in the final film of a sequel trilogy is additional bloat that will be better developed in a future Star Wars book, television series, or video game. This is an irritating development, as ancillary Star Wars media is not guaranteed (okay, with Disney’s money it is probably a certainty) and probably will not be consumed by the masses (especially in several decades’ time) – these characters and other subplots should stand independently within the film they appear. Abrams and Terrio’s attempts to provide a morsel of character development to these secondary and tertiary characters should have occurred in earlier films or scaled back for The Rise of Skywalker. Death is apparently a reversible thing, robbing scenes of emotional power and exemplifying how gutless the screenplay is – certain developments in how the Force works have opened dangerous precedents for future Star Wars media, making it resemble more like superhero media (where only Bruce Wayne’s parents and Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben remain deceased). It is further evidence that, as has been widely speculated, that Abrams and Lucasfilm president Kathleen Kennedy approved this sequel trilogy without a comprehensible three-part story or, at the very least, a general idea of how to develop a logical story arc for this project.

Other questions raised but not developed across The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi linger. The sequel trilogy dispenses with the tried-and-tested theory of the three-act narrative structure if analyzed from the entirety of the Skywalker saga – a trilogy of trilogies. Films and cinematic trilogies do not always adhere to this paradigm, but given how the previous eight episodes are told and how rigidly J.J. Abrams has kept to this structure in his career, it is stunning how the ninth episode completes the sequel trilogy’s incongruence with all that has come before. Episodes I, II, and III (“Act 1″) are the catalyst: with his fear unchecked and exploited by Palpatine, Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader and the Republic is overthrown by an authoritarian Galactic Empire. The Jedi Order is almost destroyed. Episodes IV, V, and VI (“Act 2″) sees the light confront the dark: Luke Skywalker becomes a Jedi and the Rebel Alliance lands a fatal, but not final, blow to the Galactic Empire. Anakin, “the Chosen One”, fulfills the prophecy of bringing balance to the Force.

Episodes VII, VIII, and IX (“Act 3″) – if we are assuming the traditional three-act structure that Star Wars has adopted in each of its films and the two preceding trilogies – should see how the protagonists create and maintain order leading up to and/or after the fall of the Galactic Empire. Thus, the sequel trilogy should see the reconstruction of the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order. More politics may not be what Star Wars fans want to see, but post-revolutionary/post-war states tend to be unstable politically and militarily. A post-Galactic Civil War period could easily see the violent death throes of Imperial and Sith-y remnants amid the restoration of the Republic. To quote from The Battle of Algiers (1966): “It’s hard to start a revolution. Even harder to continue it. And hardest of all to win it. But, it’s only afterwards... that the true difficulties begin.” Instead, this sequel trilogy is nothing more than a contemporary rehash of the second act. It is another dramatic second act confrontation, an escalation of the second act because we learn little about the post-Galactic Civil War period within the films. Palpatine’s zombified resurrection (Abrams’ responsibility) and defeat at the hands of Rey does not flow naturally from The Last Jedi and makes the final minutes of Return of the Jedi (which it partially copies in its climax) a lot less consequential than it should be. What should be the Skywalker saga’s third act is shoveled into the final ten or twenty minutes of The Rise of Skywalker.

The maximalism of The Rise of Skywalker requires it to juggle too many plotlines for an overlong fetch quest. It is not aided by the editing of Maryann Brandon (2009′s Star Trek, The Force Awakens) and Stefan Grube (The Force Awakens, 2016′s 10 Cloverfield Lane). In a series that has contained remarkable examples of film editing, The Rise of Skywalker is a franchise-worst – even the prequels had the decency to stay on certain shots for a few seconds to allow the audience to bask in the landscape, a certain character or creature, or a lightsaber duel. The film switches cameras too quickly, positioned too close to the characters. It occurs in the film’s quieter moments and during the climactic battles (the gold standard of editing in Star Wars battles is Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi v. Darth Maul in 1999′s The Phantom Menace; note how few cuts there are compared to most of today’s action movies and how Lucas is not afraid to pull his camera to a wide shot to let the scene feel larger than life as well as making spatial sense).

The Rise of Skywalker still feels like a space opera epic, with exciting action sequences abound here and there. The “secret sauce of Star Wars”, George Lucas will tell you, is not in the new worlds and aliens and those who use the Force. It is composer John Williams; The Rise of Skywalker is his final Star Wars score. This is not Williams’ best Star Wars score, but it is a masterful capstone to forty-two years of work. The newest and most fascinating musical ideas are both contained in the cue “The Rise of Skywalker”. Williams, whose motivic-heavy scoring relates ideas and grows alongside characters, provides a general main theme (0:00-0:54) and a friendship motif (beginning at 0:54) appearing in scenes where the bonds between Rey, Finn, and Poe are depicted. These few minutes exemplify how wondrous Williams’ ability to add complex harmonies underneath his soaring melodies is. Few other film composers living, if any at all, can have these two new musical ideas (these motifs are abnormally, but welcomingly, longer than usual for Williams) intermingling and in contrapuntal conversation to such mesmeric heights.

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The Emperor’s theme, as first heard in Return of the Jedi, makes its predictable and always-unsettling return here. But the other major motif introduced for The Rise of Skywalker is “Anthem of Evil”. This, introduced by choir, is expanded upon in “Approaching the Throne” and is befitting a being neither fully alive nor dead. The unsettling bass notes and low choir seem more appropriate for a horror film, but is entirely deserved for this film. One can also find excellent cues online (a favorite is “Falcon Flight”, which demonstrates the best of Williams’ action scoring) as of the writing of this review that do not appear on the initial commercial release album, but an album provided to Hollywood insiders for awards consideration (that album contains the best statement of Kylo Ren’s motif). This is a valedictory score, yet contains some of the best film music work of the year. We will give John Williams a pass if he is in a celebratory mood.

Williams has completed something that, in film history, only one other composer has accomplished. He stands alone with Akira Ifukube. Where Ifukube composed for Toho Company’s kaiju films/Godzilla franchise (from 1952′s Godzilla to 1995′s Godzilla vs. Destoroyah), Williams has composed for a multipart cycle of films released over several decades (nine films, like the nine symphonies of many classical music composers). Williams’ Star Wars cycle is the most popular example of what grand orchestral film music can do – how it lends greater emotional heft to images onscreen, its dramatic versatility, why it deserves a place in the concert hall and classical music history – among today’s audiences. The nine scores will be his defining work, but hopefully posterity will remember and see the genius of his compositions like Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), Schindler’s List (1993), and even his strict classical music and jazz pieces.*

Kathleen Kennedy’s mismanagement of this sequel trilogy has been laid bare by The Rise of Skywalker. In four short years, Disney has somehow run one of its most prized IPs into the creative cinematic dirt by attempting to please as broad a base as possible in this ninth installment. The creative choices of the last several years and The Rise of Skywalker alone has made being a casual Star Wars fan exhausting. As someone who did not watch a Star Wars film all the way through until I was thirteen, has it always been this exhausting? One day that exhaustion will make way for relief, but that will be long after Bob Iger is hailed for his supposed moviemaking acumen with Star Wars and Marvel leading the way. Iger, as mentioned previously, has not been visionary but mercenary for the Walt Disney Company, with Kathleen Kennedy and Kevin Feige his enforcers. He will remain in charge of the Walt Disney Company until the end of 2021.

This Star Wars sequel trilogy, popular as it has been, has been an artistic misfire. J.J. Abrams, more of a hype man‡ than the B-director whose has never shaken off his television background, has somehow regressed from the ideologically bankrupt Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) – hey, Trekkies and Star Wars fans have something in common! The filmmakers chosen to bring The Rise of Skywalker and this sequel trilogy were baptized in waters created when George Lucas, Gary Kurtz, and others redirected the flow of film history with Star Wars. Star Wars may no longer be guided by Lucas’ vision, but the artistry that arrived in theaters in 1977 can never be washed away.

My rating: 5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

Also in this series: Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) and The Last Jedi (2017)

* These references to classical music history should not be construed as a claim that John Williams is an equal to Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, or Mahler - they are composing music in different artistic contexts (classical music for music’s sake is different from classical opera and both are contextually different compared to orchestral music written for a film). Instead, it is an acknowledgment that orchestral film music is gaining widespread acceptance as part of the classical music canon. Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1938′s The Adventures of Robin Hood), Alfred Newman (1962′s How the West Was Won), and Max Steiner (1939′s Gone with the Wind) created the vocabulary of film music in the early sound era and have - to varying degrees - been accepted into the classical music canon. The jury is out for the younger composers working in Hollywood in the twenty-first century.

‡ Abrams’ (and others as well) incessant teasing of LGBTQ+ representation resulted in a scene where two women we have no information about kiss in the background for a few moments after the Final Order’s defeat, surrounded by a bunch of Resistance soldiers also celebrating. Given the context, this kiss can be explained away as a moment of platonic affection that went further than it should (hypothetical: it’s nearing midnight at New Years’ Eve and folks are drunk everywhere... what do you think is going to happen?). Let’s not pat ourselves on the back now, filmmakers.

#Star Wars #The Rise of Skywalker #J.J. Abrams #Daisy Ridley #John Boyega #Oscar Isaac #Adam Driver #Carrie Fisher #Mark Hamill #Ian McDiarmid #Billy Dee Williams #Kelly Marie Tran #Chris Terrio #John Williams #Kathleen Kennedy #Bob Iger #My Movie Odyssey

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toonstarterz · 6 years

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BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #141

The first half of Golden Week is over, and Tomoko has found herself the object of “platonic" affection for four different suitors. And as our intrepid heroine muses over the which of them to pursue, out of nowhere comes the dark horse. Once thought to be missing in action, this little girl, having been there since the very beginning, threatens to overtake the competition in one psychotic swoop.

Chapter 141: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Go to School with Kii-chan

The things that Stuffed Yuu-chan and Pals have seen...

Ah, the classic Introvert Burnout. I had a feeling Tomoko would be drained after having what may have been the most socially stressful time of her life. Not simply for being social, but for how much she had to navigate as a fish out of water. Each “date” involved a new experience for Tomoko to address, and that much effort at once can be really exhausting for a layabout like her.

That my friend is what we in the TvTropes community call, “Tempting Fate”.

Heeeeeere’s Kii-chan!

Can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this entrance. We all know who Kii-chan is. But even those outside of the loop would get a feel for who she is. Adorable and sweet-natured, but disturbing due to an apparent lack of negative emotions (even when appropriate). Ah, Kii-chan, it’s been far too long.

Nothing to say here, really. Just think it’s a particularly lovely picture of Tomoko.

Because the popularity of a manga series is largely dependent on real-time reception, it’s very common for mangakas to add new, “popular” characters, or give the spotlight to characters who’ve been out of focus. Watamote is no exception. It may seem contrived to bring Kii-chan back after being gone for a while, but it works here because it relies on Kii-chan’s character to it, instead of a series of implausible plot developments. Kii-chan is just considerate of her cousin’s schedule–that’s all we need.

The first hint of Tomoko’s reawakening as the role model onee-chan.

One of the perks of being a sporadically-appearing character is that you can really see just much the art style has evolved since the character’s last appearance. For Kii-chan, she hasn’t really changed much design-wise other than being a little taller. But even then, the linework is much cleaner and consistent this time around, which compliments the more “everyday slice-of-life” approach Watamote’s been embracing.

If only she could grow a nose.

The best thing about this type of censorship is that you don’t necessarily have to understand what's being censored. All you really need is a bit of context to put the pieces together. The outlines are detailed enough that we can see the characters as some kind of humanoids with animal features. And given what we know about Kii-chan, it makes perfect sense.

Y-Yeah, I...I’ve totally heard of that show.

Other than the whole Ucchi situation (which is slowly becoming an unintentional blessing), this is the last of the misunderstandings that still needs resolving. It’ll be hard, though, since this particular issue isn’t that troublesome. For now...

Look at that platonic sibling bonding.

Perhaps I’ve been conditioned by manga/anime, but I find it refreshing how Watamote has managed to develop the Kuroki siblings’ relationship while avoiding any incestual subtext. Lots of series oversell the sibling relationship by having them be overly affectionate and clingy. With Watamote, their bond feels organic because they don’t have to be touchy-feely. An unspoken quality time is all there is to it.

It’s hard to get a read on Tomoko’s emotions here, but at the very least, she seems troubled. It could very well be that Tomoko just realized that she’s changing in regards to the media she consumes. The former her would’ve probably jumped on the Kemono Friends bandwagon, but the reality is, Tomoko’s otaku interests are being compromised by the mainstream, at least as mainstream as rap battles get.

But the kicker is...she realizes this change isn’t all that bad.

Of course, nothing beats watching anime with your psychotic cousin.

The whole “pet-sitting” relationship they have here is a tricky one since each side is trying to accommodate the other based on “flaws” that don’t exist (or no longer exist). This usually results in an endless cycle of misunderstandings that lead to nowhere, but this confusion has transcended that cycle to develop into a progression of sorts. Similar to the Ucchi situation, the absurdity became so frequent that it just became reality. One that each side has been influenced greatly from.

With her constantly adorable face, you forget that Kii-chan is a middle-schooler and is therefore old enough to know about things like sex and perversion. Like Yuu-chan, she may look innocent, and while she was aware of such things as a kid, she didn’t really get it until they approached high-school age.

You know, I read this really good manga called Kaguya-sama: Love is War (shameless plug, I know), and they actually had a chapter about a rap battle a while back. Given that both series tend to be up-to-date on contemporary trends, it makes me wonder...has rap suddenly become a hot thing in Japan? Or has it always had its niche audience?

I’m sure many fans knew that this was going to be an inevitable development whenever Kii-chan showed up again. Unlike Tomoko’s school friends, Kii-chan wasn’t there to see the slow, gradual growth of Tomoko’s character, so it must have hit her like a ton of bricks to see her precious onee-chan go from helpless loner to mature teen in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes I wonder just how pitiful Kii-chan thought Tomoko really was...

Why would you censor Disneyland now of all times?

Those of us who were clamoring to get close-ups of the photos taken in the Disneyland arc finally get their wish.

The Kowarith photo is my favorite, even though two-thirds of the people in it are faking their asses off. While that may be my personal bias towards the Tomoko-Yoshida-Yuri trio, I think it reflects a better sense of kinship between the girls. The effort is there, phony as it is, to support each other in an awkward situation, which is fundamentally what the series is all about.

The assumedly Fireworks photo is also pleasing, make no mistake. You can definitely feel more genuine emotions (or lack thereof) being expressed than in the other photo. But this focuses more on the individual than how they work as a collective group, despite there being more people. The girls ultimately look like six different colored Skittles–part of the same package, but each unique.

Could this be the start of Kii-chan revitalizing her perception of Tomoko as a super popular girl? I sure hope so.

How ironic. Kii-chan’s perspective of Tomoko is starting to grow ever so gradually on the upside, whereas Tomoko’s perspective of Kii-chan grows more and more negative.

Hang on, is that supposed to be some fake Dragonite shirt? Neat.

At this point, people assuming that Yoshida as some kind of punk based on her looks is a dead horse of an issue. Some stereotypes exist for a reason, I suppose.

I see your game, Nico Tanigawa, using a deliberately vague line about “two girls” to make your readers overanalyze a single panel. All I have to say to that is that I am completely and utterly guilty.

One of the girls is probably Yuri, if only because she’s the only girl to appear in both photos. As for the second girl, your guess is as good as mine. I’m inclined to say Ucchi because if Kii-chan only has their appearances to go on, then Ucchi and her emoji-face make quite the impression.

I’m getting Yuu-chan vibes here with the way Kii-chan phrases half-insults with a friendly demeanor.

+ 1 TO THE HAREM.

Kii-chan is definitely that relative you leave a self-imposed boundary on. Fine in small doses, like at parties and family gatherings, but long-term exposure is unhealthy for the brain. This isn’t even a wholly exaggerated fantasy on Tomoko’s part. Okay, the eating bit is a little much, but given that Kii-chan allegedly dreams about treating Tomoko like a pet, the latter is right to be a little concerned.

There needs to be an AU one-shot of Tomoko, Tomoki, and Kii all going to the same school at the same time. Right. Now.

I do appreciate that despite Kii-chan’s deteriorating sanity, Tomoko doesn’t view her as a lost cause and even tries to put a positive spin on it. Reconciliation Arc is a-go!

Did Kii-chan really have that big of a growth spurt, or has Tomoko just reached her peak in height? Not sure how far the genetics will go, but Kii-chan becoming taller than Tomoko is only going to make her even more intimidating.

This little scheme of hers is definitely reflective of the “old” Tomoko, but there’s a nice reversal going on here. Instead of Tomoko trying to make things sound cooler than they actually are, she’s trying to make things seem worse. Of course, Murphy’s Tomoko’s Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Especially if Tomoko wants it to go right.

Ah, Ogino. The only character whose relationship with Tomoko has remained relatively unchanged despite indirectly having the most impact on Tomoko’s life.

Better update her Wiki page now.

It’s pretty telling how it’s these two who cause Tomoko the most grief. It’s not the delinquent who routinely bashes her face in, not the pervert(s) lusting after her little brother, and not the otaku who passive-aggressively teases her. As for why, I think it boils down to the fact that Ogino and Kii-chan challenge her comfort zone the most. It also doesn’t help that Tomoko doesn’t interact with them as often as the others, so she hasn’t really had the time to get desensitized by them.

This freakin’ teacher, man.

The second worst part of Ogino’s “help” is that she never actually lies. Sure, she exaggerates to hell and back, but it’s always loosely based in reality, like some cheap movie adaptation of a best-selling novel.

But the worst part of it is...you can’t hate Ogino for it. Her personal assessment may be founded on largely suspect reasons, but it’s still an honest assessment. I have no doubts that Ogino really is proud of Tomoko, and that’s exactly why she’s the best worst teacher.

That’s true. If Ogino gave that spiel to people like Hijirisawa or Hatsushiba–y’know, people who don’t know her as well–they might actually buy that crap. But people who know Tomoko like Yuri or Nemo, people like us, can tell that Ogino’s sugarcoating the whole thing. Kii-chan, with her terrifying skill for knowing too much, is no exception.

Ah, I see. This is one of those put-all-the-secondary-characters-who-we-haven’t-seen-in-a-while-into-one-chapter chapters.

Can’t complain, though. I like Itou.

“Or something” can also be translated as “lust after Tomoki”.

We don’t really have much to go on for how Itou views Tomoko, but I think it’s reasonable to think that she may not see her in that good of a light. Not only did Tomoko give off a weird impression when she played off the whole fist bump thing, but Itou’s “powers of perception” probably made her aware of Tomoko and Komiyama’s frenemy-ship, hence her “warning” that Komiyama was around.

The Inherent Awkwardness of Second-hand Relationships: The Life of Tomoko.

Betcha’ no one saw this interaction coming. Whether it’ll lead to anything more remains to be seen. Itou’s still got the whole “friendship potential” going on with Futaki, but given that she has the tolerance to BFF Komiyama, I see no reason why she can’t befriend a psycho like Kii-chan.

That desire to “loudly blow” is Kii-chan’s inner demons screeching out in desperation for release. I pity the fool who unleashes the beast.

That does sound like your typical amateur definition of a psychopath, doesn’t it?

For the record, I don’t actually believe Kii-chan is a psychopath, despite the jokes I made. There are way too many moments that discredit such a claim. Now, if you were to accuse Kii-chan as being some sort of deviant (sexual or otherwise) I might see that. But ultimately, I think Kii-chan was just a victim of having her innocence shattered too fast and too soon, which made her more, uh, crafty than Tomoko could handle.

Man, it’s been a long time while since we last saw Dicky-chan, hasn’t it? Hope we get to see more of her (and Sayaka, for that matter) after this chapter.

I love how even when she’s collecting masturbation material, Komiyama has to hold her camera phone all lady-like. If the term “purevert” ever needed a concrete definition, this girl would be it.

Main Character privileges, that’s why.

Get. The. FUCK. Out. Of. Here.

With each subsequent appearance, Komiyama’s standard for what constitutes a bitch primed to steal away her Tomoki-kun falls hilariously lower. It’s not enough that a girl in their class makes two seconds of eye contact with him, nosiree. Any girl with an inkling of a relationship with Tomoko is not immune, even if it’s his own damn cousin. Granted, I don’t think Komiyama would be so pathetically scummy as to confront Kii-chan about it like she did to Yoshida.

...I hope.

“Best friends” may be stretching it now that we’ve gotten this far in the series. However, there is one aspect of Tomoko and Komiyama’s relationship that triumphs over all the others:

Absolute candidness. Even now, the only one who gets to see the complete, raw package that is Tomoko Kuroki is Komi-something. While Tomoko has made substantial friendships with the likes of Yuri, Nemo, and Katou, Tomoko still restrains herself just a tad lest she pushes them away. It’s only with Komi that Tomoko bears her full ugliness, which I think has developed into some freakish level of respect/understanding that none of the others can claim.

Damn, even the bishounen dude gets to make an appearance. All we need know is Lethal Chef Girl to make a cameo and I’m set.

Nope. Any game is an away game when your “harem” shows up to cheer you on.

A few people have expressed discontent with how the chapter seems to end so abruptly, and it’s a fair criticism. It may be the lack of a “Next time...” tagline throwing people off, but while this chapter indeed ends at an odd point, it’s not that unprecedented. Some of the previous chapters ended this way, like that time Komi was all “Oi!” at Yoshida at the cafeteria, which indicates that this chapter is likely one of those series-of-vignettes that also doubles as a build-up chapter.

On a positive note, while the chapter does feel prematurely ended, how the next chapter plays out if it is connected to this one is sure to be a surprise.

#watamote #watamote review #chapter 141 #no matter how i look at it it's you guys' fault i'm not popular!#tomoko kuroki #kiko satozaki #ogino #itou #kotomi komiyama #akari iguchi #tomoki kuroki #that one bishounen dude #review

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thevagabondvantage · 4 years

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Have faith. I take these words with me on my way up to the high dive. I feel the floor beneath me change from gentle concrete to strict metal. The smell of chlorine fades as I climb. Higher and higher, my toes curl with uneasiness if I look down. I’ve done this before, and I will certainly do it again.

Be in the moment. Twenty-five metres above the surface; nothing can bother me now. The things I found funny just moments below aren’t funny anymore. All the noise melts away. The real world looks so far away from such heights - a distance I’ve grown to love. My shoulders push back with deep urgency. My body knows what to do, I just have to let it.

Trust in what you know. The key to a great dive is mental preparation and physical relaxation. Despite my need for absolute control, I have to let go and just let it happen. I straighten my back. Is it always this stiff right before a plunge? Hopes high and head forward, I relax my ankles, bend my knees, and let gravity decide.

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Everything strikes into pure silence the minute I make contact with the water. My favorite place in the world is twenty-five metres below the surface. For just a moment, I am at complete peace with all existence. The water doesn’t judge me or give me disapproving expressions. Anxiety and expectation are a world away; the only pressure I can sense is water pressure.

Air; you’ve never truly breathed until you’ve taken your first breath after a dive. Maybe the water knocks the air out of my lungs, or maybe I routinely expel it all just before impact. Regardless, the replenishment is better than sex! Or so I’ve been told…

Back on the land of concrete and opinions, I’m greeted by a towel and some Powerade. There’s still water trapped in my left ear, which is a telltale sign of a great dive. I tilt my head and let the excess water drain. I tossle the towel through my hair and let it hang from my shoulders. Two sips of Powerade later, I’ve caught my breath and feel like a new man.

“Daniel Rogers,” a voice booms from behind me. “You’re something, kid. You know that?” Coach Jennings cusps his overly-dominant hand over my shoulder. “To think that the scrawny, hyperactive ten year old I met eight years ago would turn out to be my best diver…” His smile shared every bit of his pride. Jennings is a great coach! He took me under his wing back when I could barely finish a fifty yard freestyle and has been a second father to me. He and his wife, Alison, don’t have any kids of their own, so they make it a habit to “adopt” his swimmers and her tennis players.

“Last meet of the year! How do you feel?” We’d found a seat near the scoring room. I made an “I’m gonna barf” face in response, we both chuckled. Coach liked to give me post-practice/pre-meet pep talks, and - today - I needed it. “You’re gonna kill it, Rogers! And who knows? Some recruiters may be in the stands tonight,” he assured me . I’d already been scouted by four different universities, but none were the right fit quite yet.

“You’re keeping something from me, and I don’t like it,” I teased back. Coach grinned with smug satisfaction.

“What would you do if I told you Notre Dame was coming tonight?” Holy shit.

“For me?!”

“And for Diaz! But mainly for you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Well, what do you think?” I had a lot of thoughts, but nothing that needed to be said aloud.

“I think I need a shower.” I grabbed my Powerade and headed for the locker room.

Steam encircles the shower room, censoring anything and everything from the the naked eye. The benches were lined with discarded Speedos - I followed suit. I learned a long time ago that it’s only weird if you make it weird. I don’t have a horrible body. I could use less here and a little more there, but who couldn’t? As far as hardware is concerned, I may not have the most impressive tool, but it certainly gets the job done. The guys who make a spectacle of their equipment usually don’t last more than a season for one reason or another.

After showering and changing, the guys make small talk - ranging anywhere from one recent encounter with a pair of breasts to another encounter with a different pair of breasts. Sometimes we talk about baseball or panic over what the AP Biology assignment was the night before, but it always seems to make its way back to the female anatomy. I never have much to share, but am always down to listen to their “woes of hoes”.

Garrett, Nate, and I take turns playing “soccer mom” in our makeshift carpool - a tradition we started the minute we were allowed to drive. Today, I host us in my grandfather’s truck.

“Notre Dame?!” Nate exclaims.

“Notre Dame, man!” I hit back.

“Notre Damn, son!” Garrett is the worst. “Of course - this can only happen to you. You’re the luckiest guy I know. You turn down UCLA without any good reason and Notre Dame comes running after you. Like I said, Notre Damn... If I’d done that, I’d be stuck at community college for the rest of my life.” Garrett was rushing to copy the last few problems from our math homework.

“Aren’t you nervous?” Nate always asks the right question at the most inconvenient time. It was a damn gift, if you ask me.

“Not really,” I lied. Truth be told, my stomach had been doing somersaults since Jennings dropped the bomb. I wish he hadn’t told me, but had no control over that, and it was starting to really freak me out.

“Well, I’d be a wreck if Notre Dame wanted to see me stick the landing,” Nate laughed. “Just make sure you remember us mediocres when you go Olympian!” I roll my eyes as we pull into the parking lot. I look at the clock - 8:00 on the dot. I can make or break all of my potential in just ten hours. Try to have that ringing through your mind during a history test - I don’t recommend it.

-----

“On deck - Varsity Men’s High Dive - Rogers, Lyle, and Denton!” Coach’s yell somehow cuts through the sound of a million parents and spectators. Two more events and we’re on. I’ve made it this far, and nothing can hold me back. I look out to the stands to scout for some familiar faces, that always calms me down.

The first person I see is Becca, one of my exes, which has the reverse effect. She gave me a look so cold it could freeze the equator. I shrug it off and keep searching. I make eye contact with a cute blonde. She smiles and waves excitedly, which catches me by surprise. I start to wave back, but quickly realize she wasn’t waving at me in the first place. Chris Denton, standing a couple of feet to my left, waves back at her, smiling like a dog. I hope and pray it’s one of his sisters. Last, I finally see my mom. She came prepared with a camera and foam finger. Embarrassing as she may be, I can never accuse her of being anything other than supportive.

I wish the scout from Notre Dame would have had a huge sign behind him so I could find him. Or at least a Notre Dame hat! Not knowing was so nerve-racking. There were a lot of people I didn’t recognize, so he could be anybody. For all I know, he could actually be a she!

Garrett and Nate, my next-biggest fans, are on the benches a few yards away. Garrett does a weird dance to make me laugh while Nate gives me a reassuring smile. They’d both won their individual events, so it was up to me to bring the final crown of glory - the high dive. As another set of divers make their way up the steps, my stomach knots.

Coach Jennings must have smelled my insecurity. He cusps his hand over my shoulder in his signature fashion.

“Last swim meet of the season. How you feeling, son?” I wish he hadn’t have called me son. Any other nickname would have been better. “Shit-brain” would have been easier to hear! I look up at him, fear flaring from my blue eyes. He catches the drift. “Remember, boy, history is written by the victors. You’re the best diver this team has seen. No judge, critic, or university can ever tell you otherwise!” He looks me in the eye, like a father to his son, and delivers a message I will never forgot. “Have faith, be in the moment, and trust in what know.”

The last set of divers emerge from the water. Time has caught up, and it’s time to face reality. My heart races as I try to find my center. I feel as if I were a surgeon with an awfully unsteady hand - one wrong move and I end a life. Whether I like it or not, it’s time; do, or dive.

-----

0 notes

helenamayhathaway · 4 years

Text

The Bachelor(s) - Sope Fic

“Run that by me one more time, chief.”

He groans out the anger that he wants to take out by smacking Yoongi across the face. “Twenty-five guys stepping out of the limo. Fifteen roses. Nine weeks. Then you pick one guy.”

“Pick him to do what?” Yoongi says, playing dumb. He gives Yoongi a stare so intimidating that his balls shrivel back into his body. “Fuck, oh my god, I’m just kidding! Fall in love blah blah blah. I got it.”

Read Chapter 1 below the cut!! (also on AO3 and Wattpad)

{{

The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys SK Promo #3 (Yoongi)

Interviewer: (Excitedly and absolutely incapable of reading the room) What made you decide to enter as a contestant on the first ever season of The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys?

Yoongi: (Under his breath) What a ridiculous [censored] title.

Interviewer: I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.

Yoongi: Honestly, I thought there was a cash prize.

Interviewer: You… you what?

Yoongi: I thought that like, if I came on the show and won, I’d get money. I’ve never seen the show, the original one or whatever. I thought it was a bunch of single people fighting to the death or something. And I’m like, I can definitely cut a [censored] if I need to.

Interviewer: (Dejectedly) Okay…

Yoongi: But I already signed the contract, it’s too late to turn back now.

Interviewer: (Trying to steer the conversation into a direction that won’t get him fired [he is definitely going to get fired]): So how does it feel now that instead of being a contestant, you’ve been chosen to be The Bachelor [Excited jazz hands]?

Yoongi: I still don’t win any money.

Interviewer: Just to be clear, you are aware this is a dating show, right?

Yoongi: It has been explained to me.

Interviewer: …and that twenty-five men will be vying for your love?

Yoongi: [unbelievably censored] That’s a lot of people I’m going to let down.

Interviewer: Well this is sure to be an exciting season isn’t it?

Yoongi: Do you think they’ll let me make all the other dudes do a Wipeout course? I want to weed out the weak among them.

Interviewer: [Damn it, man, this is your first gig in the biz, you have to get some goddamn emotions out of this man] Do you think you’re going to be falling in love this season?

Yoongi: [Laughs hysterically]

Interviewer: (Facing both God and his father who told him he’d never amount to anything) Tune in this Friday for the series premier of The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys!

Yoongi: (Quickly so as to make his voice heard before the cut) Buy my [censored] mixtape “Agust D” you [censored] cowards!

**Notes from the director: Do not let this interview see the light of day or so help me.

}}

“You are not a pleasant man!” the interviewer says to him once he’s sure the camera is no longer rolling.

“Aw, you don’t say,” he says, mockingly. Yoongi disagrees though. He is a very pleasant person. Most of his friends consider him to be dazzling and wonderful, or at least, that is what his mind insists that they think of him. He’s just super pissed he got himself into this situation, and he’s going to be a jackass about it. The cash prize thing isn’t the true story, but it’s the impression he wants to give off. Street cred and the like. He’s a rapper and he needs a certain amount of reputation so that he can call someone a motherfucker and people will take it seriously.

It’s his fault, of course it’s his fucking fault. He submitted a headshot and a copy of his self-produced-recorded-in-the-bathroom-of-his-friend’s-studio-apartment-because-it-had-great-acoustics mixtape to every goddamn company he could find. If you throw enough bait in the ocean, surely someone will snap. He’s not a considerably patient person, so after a very crafty google search of: “how to be famous”, and a very glamorous looking email from TB BWBB SK OTC LC – he still does not know what any of these letters stand for – reached out to him for an audition, well obviously he turned himself into the bait and tripped over his own feet running to be noticed. I’m special and worthy, make me your star!

Obviously, he doesn’t have an agent because 608 people have listened to said mixtape on SoundCloud and a whopping ten copies of it have sold on iTunes, and four of those copies were bought by his mom, but she will deny it until the ends of the earth. He probably could have used an agent, or common sense, or just someone to smack him in the head before that fateful audition two months ago.

“Bach-e-lor,” he read out looking at the extremely official looking poster board sign propped up on a music stand before him at the doors of that very glamorous brothel turned home brewery turned themed café turned TV Studio. “That is an English word, I do not know what that is.” He also didn’t really care about looking it up, because he is an overwhelmingly lazy person. It cannot be overstated, Yoongi should have someone follow him around to tell him when he’s being a fucking idiot.

“Boys will be boys,” he read the next line. The person who made the sign did not think about the spacing of letters, so the second part of the sentence was all crammed together. B o y s w illbeboys. Very sexy. “Well… I am a boy,” he nodded to himself, looking down for confirmation, even though no one was there to witness his joke.

So, he just walked right fucking into that studio and pretty much fucked up his entire future in one viciously fell swoop. What’s the worst that could happen, he thought? He goes on one of those K-Pop Idol shows and he doesn’t win but he gets his name and face out there so people go buy his mixtape and then some company is like “damn you’re fine” and he gets scouted and then becomes an international superstar. What could go wrong?

He did think it was kind of weird that they asked him what his preference in men was, but he’s never breathed the air of a talent agency, so he thought maybe that’s just how these things are. Yes, of course I like fellow musicians. No, I’m not a vegan, what do I look like to you, a monster?

To say it’s been a whirlwind would be an understatement. It only really starts to be real in the two weeks leading up to Night One, where he’s having his picture taken relentlessly, shoved into various seats and interviewed by various people who don’t get paid enough. Made up like a doll, advised to wear better clothes. He feels like an idol but excluding the being excited about it part. He’s trying to maintain his sleek, bad boy composure throughout all of it, and he’d say he’s doing a fairly good job, but there are cracks in the act, surely.

Two months and an unreasonable amount of Soju as a coping mechanism later, his bags are packed and all ready to move into this unforgivingly modern mansion for the next nine weeks. The mansion is the ugly kind of modern, not the “that looks relaxing and practical!” modern. All ninety-degree angles and manufactured pleasantness which don’t quite hit the mark. He supposes that the architecture is rather prophetic for the chaos that Yoongi is about to unleash inside its walls. If he’s going to be the next bachelor, and the first gay one, then goddammit if he isn’t going to raise hell.

“You’re telling me that twenty-five people are going to live in this thing?” Yoongi asks the producer who he has actually quite lovingly decided he will refer to as “Producer Dad.” See, he’s a pleasant person. Off camera, that is.

“Has anyone even explained how this show works to you?” Producer Dad says.

“Men. Roses. Hand to hand combat? Um… that’s the gist of it. I’m sure I’ll pick it up along the way, I’m a fast learner.” He did sign his soul away to this goddamn circus, though, so fast learner or not, he needs to be less of an idiot.

“So tonight, after you have your first impressions with everyone, you’re going to hand out fifteen roses. Only fifteen people will be in the mansion after that, not twenty-five.”

“I don’t think I can remember fifteen different people’s names,” Yoongi says.

“Try your hardest.”

“At the end, once I’ve eliminated all of the contestants, do I get to keep the house?” It’s ugly, but he can always sell it and get something else.

“How is it that you have not been fired yet and replaced?”

“Between you and me, I think it’s because I’m unparalleled sexy,” Yoongi says. He might be lazy and a little bit full of himself, but he’s pretty sure the actual reason is that the powers that be want this show to fail. They don’t want a gay bachelor any more than the next “Forced Diversity” crybaby, so they chose someone who’s going to make it crash and burn so that they have an excuse to say “See! It didn’t work, so now we can’t ever do it again.” They did choose the right man, because gay? bisexual? questioning? all you can eat buffet? whatever the hell Yoongi is, he is the man for the job.

“Do I get my own bedroom? My own bathroom? My own closet? Walk in closet? This is very important.”

“I’m confused, you only have one bag?” Producer Dad says.

“You’re saying the truck hasn’t come yet?”

The Truck? Oh, Producer Dad you are in for it.

“This is going to be a long nine weeks.”

Yoongi shrugs. It’s going to be stupid and dumb, but he’s going to be living the good life. Nice bedroom which he will sleep very late into the morning in? Does the mansion come with a chef? Maybe even a bathtub? Fuck! They’re going to have a lot of trouble trying to get him to move out. He’s sure if he’s stubborn enough they’ll decide to forego the glue remover required to detach him from his bed, because it would be far easier to just stew in misery over the abyss of lost profits that this train wreck of a show is going to create than to buy industrial grade Yoongi Be Gone.

“I’ll play nice with the other boys as long as I get to advertise my mixtape every five minutes of screen time.” Something tells him that this ultimatum means he’s not going to be playing nice with the other boys.

He had been lying about the truck. It’s more just a van. As he walks up to the house, with its weirdly glamorous driveway, he sees it parked out in front, seeming to gleam in the harsh summer sun. Yoongi is not particularly good at packing, though, so a lot of the reason for why he takes up so much space is because he left all of his clothes on hangers and just threw them into an impractical number of trash bags. Producer Dad is not especially willing to help Yoongi move all of his stuff into the mansion, so he does his best impression of the cutest cat you’ve ever seen to all of the crew, but Producer Dad has spitefully told all of his Producer Siblings not to help Yoongi move in his armfuls and armfuls of clothes. And all of his personal bedding. And some audio recording equipment because what if he’s sitting in his bed avoiding the responsibilities of being a reality TV star and he comes up with the next Rap God? If this wasn’t a nine-week venture, he wouldn’t have travelled so heavy, but it is a nine-week venture so fuck it. If he’s going to be a diva then he will be the diva.

He’d like to think he unpacks all of his belongings pretty quickly. The hard part is making it up the stairs into the master bedroom. When he sees it for the first time, he gets an evil glint in his eyes. The room itself is nice, he does have his own bath and an okay closet, but what really gets him is the bed itself. He’s a struggling musician, he’s never even been in a room with a bed this big. He is realizing that the bedding he brought isn’t the right size, but still, this bed is big enough that he could starfish with room to spare. He could fit two people on here to starfish. He’s going to get used to it quite quickly. So quickly in fact that after he shoves all of his clothes in the closet, he passes out on the bed for a solid three or four hours. It’s amazing.

He is awoken when a Producer who is not Producer Dad comes screaming for him, panicked because apparently the crew thought he had run away, but actually he just sleeps like a brick. She is telling him to get changed because Tonight is the Night, and he groans because he was unconscious for so long that he blissfully forgot why it is that he gets to sleep in this nice bed. He wants to stay in this big fancy mansion just for the comfort of it, he doesn’t want to actually exert effort. Effort is disgusting.

Then he’s being put into a suit. Dragged into a trailer outside of the mansion that he’s sure will never make it on camera, where about five different people all start attacking his face all at once. His hair is done, he doesn’t know what there is to do, they put so much product in, but it looks the same now as it did before. He gets makeup slathered all over him. He’d never worn makeup before they started shooting promos for the show, but he looks damn good in it he decides as he looks at himself in the mirror. How does he still look tired, though? Probably because he doesn’t want to be here. His eyes look heavier than they felt before he took that nap. Ah, that nap. He will remember it fondly until his dying days.

“Can I just eat?” he complains after possibly four hours or possibly twenty minutes. “Give me food. Please. How humiliating would it be if you could hear my stomach growl on camera?”

Producer Dad rolls his eyes, but he relents and then Yoongi is being given what seems to him like someone’s leftovers but he’s a hungry bitch, so he doesn’t really care.

“Why do you film it so late at night?” Yoongi asks, because the sun set nearly an hour ago and now he’s just standing by, waiting for shooting to begin.

“It’s for the drama of it.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “that makes total sense.” These entertainment types are so weird to him. They don’t seem like bad people, they just have vastly different priorities and thoughts as he does. Who would think that people walking out of a limo is more dramatic at night? These guys! Everyone is in agreement about it. Yoongi feels like a child in comparison to everyone around him.

The production quality of this show overall seems astoundingly low. The house is pretty nice and all that, but no one seems to know what they’re doing. Or maybe he just thinks that because he himself does not know what he’s doing. He shouldn’t even be here. Why the fuck is he here?

He’s not a reality star, or an idol. He’s not really an anything. He’s just some guy who got in over his head and signed up for the wrong kind of show, and now he’s here.

There is some truth to the fact that he did technically sort of a little bit kind of definitely know what he was doing. Initially, yeah, he had no clue. But it didn’t take that long for him to realize what kind of show this was. He’ll deny it to anyone who asks, make up some new, even more outrageous explanation for how he got here, but he did say yes knowing full well what he was doing.

He’s not very proud of the fact that he’s here, but it was on purpose, more or less. It’s not the way he would like to have done it, but people will know his name after tonight, or technically on Friday when this airs. The mixtape has been out for months and no one has noticed it. Months! He needs something. This is definitely not the way he thought it would happen, but this is how it is going to happen.

“Are you ready to shoot your pre thoughts?” Producer Dad asks as he beckons for the host of the show to come by. Yoongi has talked to the host like a whole two times so far, and has decided that his name is Host Uncle, because he is never content with anything that Yoongi does.

“Fuck, I mean, I guess so?”

“Please try to refrain from swearing, okay? It costs the network actual money when we have to bleep your words.”

“I’ve got to get it all out now then,” he says before doing something that would not be condoned by the network or his own mother.

“I do not get paid enough for this,” Producer Dad says before Yoongi is being put on his mark and then being counted down.

“So Yoongi, you’re about to meet twenty-five men for the first time, one of them could even be your future husband! How are you feeling?” Host Uncle asks in a news reporter sort of voice that doesn’t sound natural.

“Well, I certainly am feeling emotions,” he says, though he refuses to show any actual emotions on his face.

“What kind of emotions might those be?”

“Disbelief,” he says, “did not think I would ever be here.”

Host Uncle has a fake laugh and then misinterprets the words either intentionally or unintentionally. “It’s almost like your whole life has culminated in this moment!”

“Okay,” he says apathetically. “I’m just here to promote my mixtape.”

“Cut!” Producer Dad shouts. “Yoongi, we talked about this.”

“Sure, but I ignored you.”

“Let’s try that again, but please avoid plugging your mixtape this time, okay?”

Yoongi groans loudly. One time was painful enough and now he’s got to do it again, and he really exerted as much emotion as he was capable of exerting in that first take, which is little to none. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to top that.

They do at least five takes. Yoongi doesn’t watch reality shows, it never occurred to him just how much of what goes on the screen is rehearsed and fake. They only let him off the hook when he goes completely over the top.

“Yes of course I’m super excited!” he says with the most insincere tone known to man, but no one seems to notice it, or maybe they’re all just so thankful that the words he’s saying aren’t negative that they’re choosing to see it as a win.

“Do you think that one of these men is going to be your soulmate?”

“Well, I sure hope so,” he says before he smiles at the camera with his cheesiest, gummiest, toothpaste commercial smile.

“It’ll have to do,” Producer Dad finally says.

“The name of my autobiography,” Yoongi mutters. “Can I eat more food now?”

Producer Dad makes an exaggerated sound of frustration, throwing his hands in the air, which Yoongi takes as a yes. He goes back to the trailer where he knows that they’re storing the food, and he then proceeds to eat his emotions away. His emotions are very hungry.

A lot of people he doesn’t know are trying to tell him things. Lots of crew members who seem like perfectly nice people but they’re talking about things he doesn’t care about so he instead decides to tune them out and think about himself instead.

What’s nine weeks? He’s been on this earth for much longer than that, he’ll be able to make it through nine weeks. He’s in a big fancy house. It may be hideous but it does nevertheless have a very good bed. He thinks lovingly of that bed for the next several minutes.

From outside the trailer, he hears Producer Dad shout, “First limo is en route!” All hell breaks loose. Everyone starts scrambling like a bomb went off. Yoongi is being dabbed off and he’s not even sweating. People are fixing his everything. Then he’s being tugged back outside to stand in front of the mansion at a dramatic angle.

He remembers that he has to start acting now. Well, maybe not "acting," but he has to prepare himself to be on camera now and for the next two and a half months. The last few days of promos and pre-interviews are just the appetizer, now it’s time for him to become what he hates. Remember Yoongi, you’re only here for the plu. You just have to make it through this with as many cheeky self-plugs as you can get. People absolutely eat up reality stars. This could be great for you.

He’s actually getting nervous. He didn’t think he was going to get nervous, but he is. It’s not nerves because he’s worried about meeting all the guys, it’s nerves because the weight of everything around him is starting to fall on his shoulders and he is not strong enough not to be crushed by it.

“The limo is going to be here in five minutes, are you ready, Yoongi?”

“I am full of regret and lots of food.”

“You just have to be personable; I know you can do it. I know somewhere in there, deep, deep, deep down, you’re not an asshole.”

“I’ve yet to find that person,” Yoongi responds, smirking.

“You’re insufferable. You know what to do, right? You only have to connect with 15 guys tonight. That’s all you have to do.”

“Run that by me one more time, chief.”

He groans out the anger that he wants to take out by smacking Yoongi across the face. “Twenty-five guys stepping out of the limo. Fifteen roses. Nine weeks. Then you pick one guy.”

“Pick him to do what?” Yoongi says, playing dumb. Producer Dad gives Yoongi a stare so intimidating that his balls shrivel back into his body. “Fuck, oh my god, I’m just kidding! Fall in love blah blah blah. I got it.”

Producer Dad then turns white as a sheet as he hears something in his headpiece. “It’s here!” The camera catches the shot as everyone runs away so as not to be seen in shot. Yoongi is left standing there, the drama of the dark night finally starting to make sense to him as he watches the limo slowly make its way to the driveway right in front of him. How cliché it would be to say his fate is behind those doors, yet too true to deny.

He doesn’t know if he has ever felt so alone and transparent in his entire life. He’s standing here, made up and plasticized. Full of annoyance and nerves and stupidity. Thinking about what he would be doing if he wasn’t here. In one of those dead-end jobs that he uses to support his nonexistent music career. No one knowing his name. But soon the scene of him standing here waiting for that door to open will be seen by the whole country.

He feels fake right now, and he knows that’s because his on-camera self thus far has been fake. He isn’t this person. He’s genuinely a nice person. He definitely needs his mouth washed out with brillo pad, but he’s a good friend, a hard worker. Here he stands feeling like an action figure bent to do The Man’s will.

The minute that the door to the first limo opens, he has a very disheartening realization. Shit. He can’t be a jackass to all of these guys. It’s just not inside of him. He wants so much to be a jackass. It would be such a pleasure. But that would not be fair. It would be so awful for this to be the very first season of this show, queer representation hoorah and then to be piece of shit to everybody. These are the people he’s going to be sharing the screen with for so many weeks, and they are real people. Real people who actually came here to find love and what they got was Yoongi taking the piss. Sure, some of them might just be in it for the fame and drama of it all, not unlike himself, but they’re still human beings.

Alright, Yoongi, what are you going to do? He decides that maybe he will make nice. He’s going to be an asshole to the camera without question but to these dudes? Who came all the way out here to find love? Putting themselves into such an uncomfortable position? That wouldn’t be fair. By no means is Yoongi going to fall in love with anyone, he has some self-respect, but he won’t be a jerk. He will try his hardest not to be.

The door opens in such a way that Yoongi cannot see who’s inside. He doesn’t mean to but Yoongi looks at the camera and makes a very nervous, and probably very cute expression. This is actually about to be real.

The first person that steps out of the limo is… a guy. Korean. Wild, who would have thought? He’s wearing a suit, it could be the exact same one as the one on Yoongi. He has two arms, two legs. Silver hair, dyed. Quite a nice texture. Looks soft. Great skin care regimen. Alright, so he’s hot. Yoongi has two eyes and a dick, he knows when someone is hot.

The distance between them can’t be more than a few yards and yet the length of time that it takes for this guy to walk up to Yoongi is centuries long. He’s quite a bit taller than him, but Yoongi is not a very large person to begin with.

He stops in front of Yoongi, neither of them is doing anything that would be defined as “smiling” but it also couldn’t be defined as anything else.

“Hi,” the other man says. Yoongi takes in a deep breath as subtly as he can. So it begins.

“Hi,” Yoongi responds. Had he meant to say more? Wow, they’re both going to be good at this.

“I’m uh, this is a really weird format to meet someone for the first time isn’t it?” he says sheepishly. Time is not progressing in the way that time usually progresses. He’s not sure if he’s entered a dream or not. It’s not that it feels magical, it just doesn’t feel grounded. He’s not really here. This isn’t really happening.

“Yes,” Yoongi says. Maybe once his mouth stops being dry, he’ll graduate to more than one syllable at a time.

“It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Uncomfortable silence… maybe he should mention his mixtape?

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“I’m just awkward,” he says, smiling just a little bit to show how uncomfortable he actually is. It’s not a sincere smile. It’s a mom just told me to smile for a picture but I’m eleven and I just want to get through this vacation in one-piece smile.

“Me too. I didn’t know I would be going first. It’s a lot of pressure to say something meaningful… I guess I should tell you my name,” he says. Yes, that might help, you very pretty man. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Yoongi.” Yoongi goes in for a handshake but Namjoon misreads it, so they have an awkward hug with Yoongi’s hand in his stomach. Holy shit, he went into this hoping so much to be a serious, stoic, confident rapper promoting his mixtape, and this is Bachelor One and he already wants to hide in a sewer.

“This can only get weirder from now on,” Namjoon says with actually a really cute smile, and Yoongi doesn’t know why but those words actually comfort him a little bit. “Good luck. I hope when we talk again it’ll feel a little less terrifying.” Oh that’s right, Yoongi reminds himself that after all these introductions he has to go and have one-on-one conversations with everyone and try not to get super drunk while he does it. That’s going to be the hardest part. He wishes he had warmed up with at least something to make his posture a little less straight.

He watches as Namjoon walks past him into the house, and due to the fact that Yoongi has hormones, he looks at him as he walks past and is very sad to learn that there is no ass to speak of. Twenty-four people to go whose asses will surely be more impressive.

Now it’s round two and he’s still uncomfortable but he’s done this once so now he thinks he can handle it a little bit better. Fuck, this one is cute. This one is bubblier. The instant he steps out of the limo, his face already has a smile on it. Christ, this is a good one. So was the last one. This is already hard. There’s no way he’d have been able to be an asshole to faces like these, even if he tried.

“Jimin,” he announces after a few words. Yoongi can tell that he’s going to go in for a hug because that radiates off of this guy. It’s a nice hug. They exchange a few pleasantries. It doesn’t feel natural, but it’s not awful. Jimin walks away and Yoongi is starting to think that this might not be as disgustingly fake as he thought it would be. Jimin made it a little less extremely uncomfortable. Oh, he has very much got an ass. Yoongi makes an unconscious nod before he remembers that there’s a camera on him.

As much as he would like for it not to be true, a lot of the guys run the same as the previous. This one has black hair, but this one has black hair. That one has piercings, oh those are very nice piercings, but that one has a velvet suit jacket and that really does something for Yoongi. He remembers that he has to make it through twenty-five different people, and there are too many names to remember, so he starts assigning them letters.

“Nice to meet you A, I’m Yoongi.”

“Oh, hello B, I’m Yoongi.”

“Thank you so much for saying that C, my name is Yoongi.”

He doesn’t tell any of them that they are being given letters. That would be rude.

“Jungkook.” Okay, yeah cool, your name is L now. “Jin.” Congratulations contestant number whatever, your name is Q. Yoongi skips the letter P because he feels like that would just be cruel, especially considering that Q is unbelievably handsome.

It’s been half an hour, is he nearly done? Producer Dad shows him his fingers. Four left. Thank god. He only has to meet four more people. But then he has to go talk to all of them. But then, quite a mercy, he gets to eliminate ten of them! No need to remember them anymore. He’s got to keep the first two because they’re the only ones whose names he thinks he remembers, but other than that it’ll be a crap shoot.

“Taehyung.” Oh, his voice is deep, and Yoongi decides that he likes that. Yes, very much so. He instantly forgets the name that this man just assigned himself, but V seems to suit him quit well. Goodbye V, and yes, Yoongi looks at his ass too. But he’s gotten fairly good at being subtle about it. The viewers at home will still probably be able to tell. Maybe it will make him genuine and endearing? Maybe he’ll just be called a pig.

The next one has brown hair. A very squishy face, which Yoongi has been told he also has. The second he steps out of the limo he can tell that this one, much like the second guy who Yoongi wants to say was called Jimin, that this guy radiates something. A very bright smile, if a little nervous. He looks very good in his suit. Everyone that has walked out of the limo has looked nice and been nice, but there’s something about this one in particular that just gets right to Yoongi’s core.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, which is a phrase that Yoongi has heard countless times before, and it’s a little disappointing that that is how this one has started the conversation.

“Hello,” he says. To be fair, Yoongi’s first line hasn’t had a lot of variety either.

"Your bio failed to mention that you were this cute," he says, and gives Yoongi a respectful once-over. Yoongi refrains from rolling his eyes. “Before I say anything else, I read on your bio that you're a rapper?”

His eyes immediately sparkle. Yes! Finally, someone is asking him about it! “I am! Yes!” Is this excitement? Is that what he feels? Excitement? Let me talk about myself please!

“That’s really cool. You may be here on this weird show now, but the next minute you’ll be an idol.”

“A man can dream, right?” Yoongi says. His squishy cheeks are about to make their debut to the camera, he can just tell.

“You look like you make a good rapper,” he says. His face becomes warm. Is this blush? He’s super pale, this guy is going to be able to tell that he’s blushing.

“I have a mixtape, you should listen to it,” Yoongi stumbles a little bit on his words. He realizes that this is the first time he’s managing to get a plug in for his mixtape, so he looks at the camera quickly and says, “Agust D, check it out.”

“How about you tell me more about it when we talk later, yeah?” he says smiling. This guy can most definitely tell that Yoongi is blushing. You can read it on his face like a book. Yoongi also suspects that he knows what he’s doing. He’s so charming. He’s cute. Everyone has been cute, literally everyone, but this one complimented not just his face but also said he looks like a good rapper. Fifteen roses to give out, this guy has already earned one.

“Two left after me, but make sure I’m the one you remember, okay?” he says. Fuck. Yoongi nods, and he turns to watch him go, but then he realizes-

“Wait, you didn’t tell me your name!”

“Silly me,” he says, smiling with his soft oh-my-god-yoongi-are-you-gay? cheeks, really bright like he’s a light source and Yoongi is a flower that needs it to grow. “Hoseok.”

Alright, Hoseok. You get to have a name instead of a letter. You’ve earned it.

Also? Very nice ass.

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