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retrievablememories · 3 years

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matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app.

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :)

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take.

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...”

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human.

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards.

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway.

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust.

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button.

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

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detectiveconnor · 3 years

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What makes you ship RK1K? No hate, I'm just curious.

no read more we die like men

Hello! The long and short of my answer to this is that the relationship is a very on purpose one that almost seems ... just genuinely healthy for each of them? They are both very real people who have to live and breathe and exist in this complex environment where literally thousands of people have these preconceived notions of who they are and why they do what they do, and they don’t unite over that shared “everyone thinks they know us” but rather over.. ”I want to know you”, they unite over there you are. Hello.

They treat each other as very equal and real and Connor loves to know that Markus is the sort to misplace his keys (and to smile like that, and that he survived what could have killed him, and that Alive Alive Alive is something that runs all the way through him, not just the surface)... and Markus loves to know that Connor blushes in his shoulders if he blushes at all (and that Connor has had his coin for a Long time, and that when Connor’s body posture tenses he Has Something To Say, and that they can meet eyes across the room because Connor has a joke and Markus knows he has one). They make a point of noticing each other and making eye contact and saying Hello, when they can, even if it is in passing. The first time Connor went out of his way to say, “Markus,” after a meeting finished - Markus had some next task to hurry away to (they both did) - and Connor stopped him like that to say, “Good morning.” That sort of noticing. The ‘we are doing important work, we are, but I see you, and hello’.

Dotpoints:

Their shared tenacity for Showing Up. Connor and Markus each have this inherent inclination to get things done, to affect change, to do what they can hands-on to achieve the things that they want to achieve: they are both very extremely capable people with their own agency. They don’t accept someone telling them You Have No Agency Here. They don’t lie down and let things happen. The fact that they’re together .. they set out to make that happen and they both know it, it was a very audible ‘I liked you and I chose you’ in their being-together.

The way they seek the Real in each other, and normalise it, and look for ways to know it better. Yes of course Connor is real and sometimes forgets to turn on the light before he checks the peephole at literally midnight, yes of course Markus is real and sometimes stubs his toe on his way across the living room, yes of course they are real and disagree about the legitimacy of rolling socks as a laundry technique (Connor rolls a pair - a single pair, the rest are normal - sometimes to see Markus wrinkle his nose when he finds them). Yes of course they are real and able to entertain themselves by poking at each other. Connor loves knowing these mundane things about this man who lives and breathes his Alive, and Markus loves that white-blue flash of Connor’s LED when he looks away and pretends he’s being innocent. “What are these?” because they’re rolled, what are those, Connor? (”They... look like socks,” that same false innocence, and tiny nod, and he hums laughter when Markus throws them.)

Connor brings Markus something lilting and light-hearted and insistently so. You may have noticed Detective Connor Connor is a VERY very funny person - he does it on purpose. He is a homicide detective who teases and smiles and makes fun in a very dry way (”You seem so human!” / “... Thank you,” smooth, “You seem so Android.”) which nonetheless communicates his point. He loves his work and he insists on having fun with it, it’s a personality trait he has to have because of where he works on the edge of suffering, and that ... Markus worked through the entire revolution surrounded by friends and yes he loves them and they love him, and Simon especially has some moments, but Connor - once he knows he likes someone (and that happens quickly, when Markus first notices one of his jokes and his eyes Sparkle that way) - brings humour into their work, and their meetings with people who could have made it a much worse meeting if Connor did not disarm them with a smile first. Markus deserves to smile/laugh more, the way he drops his head when Carl tells him he’s not a good liar. Connor being Connor gives Markus something More.

Markus brings Connor a warmth and lightness and a You Belong Here which Connor has always found it hard to turn away from. There’s the way Connor relaxes forward, in Markus’ direction, in the church, and the way Markus recommends Connor when someone needs police advice (even when Connor isn’t there), and the way he turns for Connor’s opinion when he’s caught that Connor tensed, or has something to say (and that - noticing - happens more often than he doesn’t, Markus learnt very rapidly, because he was Paying Attention). Markus respects Connor’s capability and his presence and the fact he belongs there just as much as anyone else, Connor has never felt he was being Tested or asked to be something he is not (”You are a detective,” Markus said to him, once, and even once asked him why with a curiosity that was I want to know more about This Part Of You rather than I want to change it, and Connor... gosh. He loves him.) Connor could have survived without Belonging at New Jericho and being offered a place there and taking up space in that particular location. He still would have done good work, but the extent of your place is with your people could have been ‘I will not actively kill you, but... you know, you’re you’, and he would have accepted his life with grace and kept going. But Markus is warm and light and always has been, always has counted Connor that way. Connor looked at Markus and saw Equal, and Alive; Markus looked at Connor and saw Equal, and Deserve. Markus being Markus gives Connor something More.

They are not less without each other and do not have to be for the relationship to work, they just take up space in each other’s lives and it is warmer and better and lighter and nicer and good to find each other there. They are kind and they reach because they like to, not because they have to. They are Them, the plural, because they could do it alone but Do Not Have To and so they won’t.

They trust each other deeply, and that is built on solid foundations. Their trust is what it was at its starting point and it has been built on not in building-blocks but in actions, in tangible events, in Countable Nouns. They did not live through the revolution together the way Markus, North, Josh, Simon did -- but they lived through the aftermath, and the surviving. The healing. The rebuilding. Their trust is earned, and solid, and real. Good lord, Connor loves being with someone who makes Real so loud. He has only ever wanted to live in the Real world, to live the Truth, with his eyes open. there is so much that is tangible about Markus. Connor feels it in breathing around him.

This won’t ever come up, but for the record: yes, their hearts are compatible. Each being RKs, it is possible they’re even a better match than usual. Their regulators are each their own - they are Their Own - but in a pinch, they could share, back and forth, shivering cold and Trying to Stay Alive, together.

this isn't even mentioning ... that they enjoy art (not just visual art: art), and looking for the truth out of people's intentions and words, and reaching for people, and sunlight, and music, and slowdancing to no music, and trading opinions about topics where there is no Right Answer there is just their own opinion and They Want To Know each other in that way, and playing chess together one piece at a time whenever they get a chance to move it, and Connor once explained to Markus the way the first Android astronaut was probably murdered in space, actually, but "That's outside my jurisdiction," and also it happened six years before the revolution, and ... my point is that is not even to mention that they have interests in common and they like spending time together, it is easy to do it, it is not a chore. This is not even to mention that they're comfortable in each other's space, and love each other Like That, and even where their interests do not naturally overlap Connor will taste Markus' paint and talk to him about watercolours and Markus will listen to Connor theorise about a public-domain case he found for himself to solve simply because he felt like it. their interests overlap and when they don't their interest in each other bridges the gap (if that counts as a gap at all; they have that healthy Distinction, and I don't know about Markus, but Connor really does love that about him, at least.)

i could go on / shall i compare markus to a summer's day, he is more lovely and more temperate (and I'm not sure either of them actually enjoys Shakespeare), but ... yeah. Yeah I just love them, you know?

#otp: in love like air #rk1k #ingrid talks #thank you for asking!#long post for ts #long post

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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elisabeth515 · 3 years

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(Some) Greek Gods as Historical Figures

So some days ago I secretly logged back into Mythology and Cultures amino and I stumbled across post of casting historical figures as the gods from Greek mythology. Of course, I hated it, so I made my version of this.

Note: Of course, this is going to have quite a lot of Napoleonic figures, since I am more familiar of this period, but please do reblog this post (or tag me on another post) with the hashtag “#mythical figures as historical people” and add some more of your historical figure Greek God fancasts!

Note 2: this post is for entertaining purpose, and just me introducing some guys to y’all and I am not a historian myself and hopefully you all would still like my takes😅

1. Zeus - Louis XIV of France

First and foremost, I shall introduce the king of gods featured in Greco-Roman myths. You may ask, why don’t I cast Henry VIII of England? Well, my reason is very simple: Henry is far from accurate to Zeus in actual myths.

To be honest, Zeus has a more “absolute power” energy in it, and Louis XIV totally has rocked it (like that iconic line “l’état, c’est moi (I am the state)”). Well, Henry also has that kind of energy but everyone only remembers his six wives and the uncountable number of bloodshed (not to mention Catherine of Aragon is a much better fighter than him—got this from Horrible Histories OwO)... Anyways, Louis XVI is basically a Zeus.

2. Hera - Catherine of Aragon

This brings to Catherine of Aragon herself. She’s a total Q U E E N and if you have watched “Six” the musical you already got what I mean (like, being the wife who married to Henry the longest). There’s also the early warlike aspect in Hera (featured in Homer’s works) that Catherine has it as well (at least you know that she’s getting more victories than Henry if you have watched Horrible Histories season 6, in the episode with Rowan Atkinson playing Henry VIII (which is sad because I want Ben Willbond to play him—he iconic to the HH fandom)), making her a great casting of Hera.

Hera, in my opinion, is a very strong woman who has to take Zeus’s shit and I could totally understand why she took revenge on the girls that Zeus has slept with—but anyways, hopefully you guys would like it :3

3. Aphrodite - Pauline Bonaparte

This is half-self-explanatory, really—just look at that statue she posed as Venus, the Roman equivalent of Aphrodite.

Pauline was famed for her beauty in her time, also a big chunk of scandals from her affairs (which bugs her big brother Napoleon, a lot). Nevertheless, despite her big spending habits and a great sexual appetite, she always helped Napoleon in some surprising ways (like she sold her house in Paris to the Duke of Wellington to get the funds for Napoleon).

Just like Aphrodite herself, Pauline harnessed her beauty very well. Thus, I rest my case.

4. Apollo - Joachim Murat or Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria

(Warning: long content ahead)

Firstly, let me briefly introduce them because you guys might not know them much.

Joachim Murat was a marshal of France, also one of Napoleon’s brother-in-law, grand duke of Berg and Cleves from 1806 to 1808 and the King of Naples from 1808 to 1815. After the wars, he attempted to escape yet was caught and executed in 1815 in Pizzo, Italy (if you have read of Alexandre Dumas’s “Famous Crimes” you might know him—by the way no one has cut his head off and sent it to that big nose King Ferdinand).

For those who have watched “Elisabeth” or the “Sissi” movies, you might know Franz Joseph I of Austria already but you might not know much about himself besides being the husband of the (in)famous Empress Sisi (ie. Empress Elisabeth of Austria). He was the Emperor of the Austria from 1848 to his death in 1916—one of the longest reigning European monarchs in history. During his reign, the empire had been through a lot of change, most notably, the creation of Austria-Hungary. Nevertheless, he was also the Emperor who started World War I and he died of old age in the midst of the Great War.

For Apollo, I’m not casting musicians because this is quite overdone. I rather want to shed a light to the other arts that he represented in Greco-Roman mythology. This makes me want to draw a parallel to Joachim Murat as he was also a great sucker of classical literature. Plus, he also was known to be a flamboyant dresser (his nickname was “the Dandy King” by the way), also the designer of the uniforms of the Neapolitan army (with an excessive amount of amaranth, perhaps his favourite colour). Really, everyone just sees him as a great flamboyant himbo but in reality, he’s iconically badass in the battlefield as the First Horseman of Europe. Well, also he’s known for being extremely good with women even though his wife Caroline was fierce as hell. So, in my opinion, he fits the image of Apollo that we know.

However, you guys might feel surprised why I picked Franz Joseph for Apollo. Well, he really... was a rather mediocre ruler in my opinion, and perhaps our most memorable image of him was the senile emperor who signed the declaration of war to Serbia. Nevertheless, he was a well-liked man among his subjects, at least to some old citizens of Austria-Hungary telling future generations. Besides, culture flourished in Vienna under his reign—with notable figures like Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Erwin Schrödinger. Despite the series of unfortunate events which made the empire started to crumble, Austria-Hungary arguably has its cultural importance in Europe. Sounds like what Apollo would do if he’s a ruler, somehow.

Well, enough of his political achievements, let’s talk about his private life... which was probably the actual reason why I picked him.

Enter Duchess Elisabeth in Bavaria, the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, also known as Sisi.

On a side note, Marshal Louis-Alexandre Berthier of France, Prince of Neufchâtel and of Wargram, was Empress Sisi’s grand-uncle in-law via his marriage to Duchess Maria Elisabeth in Bavaria

Absolutely love Pia as Elisabeth in the musical so please don’t mind me using a gif from this :3 ((also, “Elisabeth” spoiler alert

Franz originally was to marry her sister Helene (nicknamed Néné), nevertheless, on the first meeting in Bad Ishl, he has fallen for the young Elisabeth, head over heels—making him defying his domineering mother, Archduchess Sophie, for the very first time. Elisabeth also liked him and did not expressed her refusal either, so they got married in St. Augustine’s Church in 29th April, 1854.

However, the marriage was not well. Sisi was not accustomed to the strict Austrian court especially Archduchess Sophie (also she was not really a fan of intimacy). Poor Franz was rather helpless in situations between his mother and his wife, and eventually, Sisi chose her freedom over her duty as Empress, traveling around the world. They two briefly went back together during the Austro-Hungarian compromise, yet she was constantly not there. Eventually, Sisi was assassinated by an anarchist named Luigi Lucheni during her stay in Geneva, Switzerland, and Franz was devastated over her death (“she will never know how much I love her”).

To Franz, he loved her so, but he really didn’t understand her needs. Even though he had countless mistresses and female companions in Vienna, he still missed his wife. I say, he was really unlucky when it comes to love. Like Apollo himself, he dated countless nymphs and humans, but a lot of his notable relationships did not have a good end. (Probably Cyrene was the most lucky one, yet she also has chosen to be left alone after mothering several children with Apollo.) For this, I picked Franz Joseph as Apollo.

5. Ares - Jean Lannes or Michel Ney

As usual, for those who don’t know much history, I shall briefly introduce my babeys these two great soldiers.

Jean Lannes was one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for being one of Napoleon’s closest friends and his fiery personality, and is considered one of the best marshals of the 1st French Empire. His finest moments including the Battle of Ratisbon in which he led his men to storm the well-guarded city with ladders (hence his nickname “ladder lord” in our very humble Napoleonic marshalate fandom :3). Sadly, he died of the wound he received in the battle of Aspern-Essling in 1809.

Michel Ney was also one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for his extreme valour (yep, he is known as the “Bravest of the Brave”). As you might know, he was one of the marshals who was in Waterloo, yet, his finest hour was during the retreat from Russia in the disasterous 1812. Sadly, he was arguably the most prominent victim of the White Terror under the second Bourbon restoration, executed in 1815 (**I am not accepting any kind of conspiracy theories of my babey survived and died in America😤).

Speaking of Ares, I have a lot of things to say (that’s my dad ;-; no jkjk). He is really not that bloodthirsty idiot who casually hates humans. Well, he’s more like a fiery dork and a man who was very faithful to his lovers, and fights very well (by the way also one of the best dads). So, the bois that come into my mind are automatically two of the most courageous marshals of France.

Lannes, if I have to get him a godly parent, it would definitely Ares. He resembled the god a lot (also I sometimes imagined Ares as a smol bean with dark hair), probably looks the most like Ares himself. He got that fiery temper, that faithfulness to his wife Louise, also being a very courageous fighter in the field—well he literally was like, “NO LEMME STORM DAT CITY *grabs ladder*”.

There you have it, my big bro our ladder lord Jean Lannes who can pull off a perfect Ares.

Ney is like a slightly introverted (and mature) version of an Ares person. You can guess his temper already through his famed auburn hair, and indeed despite his shy exterior his temper sometimes was a bit explosive, and a bit impatient (which was somehow one of his fatal flaws). He was a great fighter, known as a skilled swordsman in his youth. And you all know how brave he is in his famed epithet. Michel Ney is purely badass (and C U T E) you know (and he needs a lot of hugs because he has really been though a lot in the wars, and was a possible case of PTSD which was shown in his arguably suicidal behaviour during the battle of Waterloo). That’s why I casted him as the Greek god Ares OwO

And there you have it, my interpretations on the Greek gods via people in history. I originally would like to include more but somehow I realised that I have written too much about my picks. So, if you want to add more, reblog this post or tag me on the post you made on this topic (and please use the hashtag “mythical figures as historical people” so that I could look into your choices via the search bubble on this app🥺).

Last but not the least, I hope you all lovelies like this, also have learnt something new via my brief introductions on some historical people. Have a great day!

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spectrumed · 3 years

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5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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zaph1337 · 3 years

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Monster Hunter Rating 21: Khezu, the Blank Stare

When I reviewed Basarios, I made a joke about how the devs likely gave it human teeth over sharp teeth because the latter might not give children nightmares, but I don’t actually think that the devs ever intended Basarios to be more terrifying than any other monster in the game. This monster, however, is literally the stuff of nightmares, and I’m not misusing “literally” here. This may be the longest review I’ve written yet, so buckle up. Time to get spooky with Khezu!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: I think there’s been a mistake here; last I checked, Capcom wasn’t making Silent Hill games. Seriously, this thing would fit right into that series, and not just ‘cause its phallic neck lends itself well to metaphors. The pale, veiny skin, the leech-like mouth, the complete lack of eyes...Khezu’s unlike any other monster in the series because it’s the only monster that’s meant to be horrifying to look at. It’s got flabby, tattered wings and gecko-like feet, but its main characteristic (other than the head) is its tail, the tip of which can open up into a suction cup that allows Khezu to stick to ceilings.

Obviously, Khezu’s an abomination that came from a really dark place in someone’s mind, but that’s just it: Khezu is a monster that appeared in an MH developer’s nightmare either before or during the production of the first Monster Hunter game, and said developer (I don’t actually remember who) decided to put it in the game. I learned of this from the Twitch streams of a streamer called DuncanCan’tDie, who’s a huge MH fan that’s on great terms with Capcom. Unfortunately, I can’t find any other sources for this claim, but I don’t think he’s lying for a few reasons; firstly, like I said, he’s on great terms with Capcom. He’s friends with some people who work there, and he even has a tattoo designed by someone on the MH team he called “Kaname-san” (who didn’t actually give him the tattoo, but drew the design that a tattoo artist used) and the only person who could go by that name is Kaname Fujioka, the man who literally directed several MH games, including the first one, and who was the art director for Monster Hunter World. So yeah. Duncan and Capcom get along great, and if he was spreading false rumors, they’d probably know about it.

The second reason I believe Duncan about Khezu’s origin is that someone once came into one of his streams (and I was there at the time) and started spouting “lore” about two monsters that looked like they could be related, but actually weren’t. Duncan flat out told this person that what they were claiming wasn’t mentioned anywhere and asked for sources...which the loregiver did not provide. In fact, after Duncan started getting on their case, I don’t think they said a word for the rest of the stream. Duncan believes that this person was just making stuff up to sound like they knew a lot about MH and weren’t aware that he was an MH expert, and I doubt that someone who would call someone out on that would do the same thing, especially if he had a reputation to uphold.

I apologize if I spent a lot of time talking about that, but I didn’t want people getting on my case because they couldn’t find anything to support my claims. But in conclusion, I believe that Khezu truly was born of a nightmare, and that’s awesome. It makes the Silent Hill comparison even more fitting since the enemies in those games are basically projections of the protagonists’ psyches. Disturbing enemies are much more effective if they scare(d) the people who created them, and Khezu is certainly disturbing. Because of that, as well as its ominous origin, I’m giving it a 9/10.

Behavior: Khezu mostly inhabit caves, jungles, and swamps due to the need for their skin to be moisturized, though they usually only leave caves to hunt, which they don’t have to do very often due to the plentiful fat beneath their skin, which also keeps them warm. Their favorite hunting strategy is to ambush their prey from a location usually concealed by darkness, which is made easier by their extendable necks. However, their reliance on darkness, as well as their preference to dwell in caves, has made them completely blind and reliant on their other senses; despite not having visible nostrils or ears, Khezu have great hearing and a very good sense of smell. Back to hunting, while they need to subdue larger prey, smaller ones, like Kelbi, are slowly swallowed whole...which is apparently something you can actually witness in the games, according to TV Tropes (I normally stick to the wiki and what I already know for resources, but I went to the “Monster Hunter / Nightmare Fuel” page while searching for another source for Khezu’s origin as a nightmare). As if this thing needed to be more disturbing, it doesn’t always kill its prey before it tries to swallow it, so the Kelbi you can see it eat is constantly struggling as the Khezu swallows it bottom-first. That’s...that’s messed up. But it gets worse.

Practically every monster in this series isn’t any more intelligent than what we consider a normal animal to be. Aside from Lynians, which are people, the smartest monster I’ve talked about is the Velociprey, which might not be as smart as, say, an irl crow, which is very intelligent by the standards of nonhuman animals. What I’m getting at here is that most of the monsters in this series don’t really take any sadistic pleasure in killing and eating prey; they just do it to survive. But Khezu is different. In several MH games, including Rise, the first time you go on a quest to kill a specific monster, the gameplay is preceded by a cutscene that shows off how powerful or intimidating that monster is (and in Rise’s case, you also get a poem). Here’s Khezu’s intro, and I want you to pay attention to what Khezu does from 0:24-0:30:

youtube

That’s right: this thing “looked” right at the monster it was going to eat, and smiled. That isn’t just me anthropomorphizing it, either; I’ve seen what Khezu looks like outside of that cutscene, and even with its mouth closed it has a neutral expression, so it smiling actually means something, and considering the context, it’s obvious what the devs wanted us to take from it: Khezu likes killing. It enjoyed the prospect of swallowing that monster whole while it was still alive and struggling, which means that this is the first monster I’ve talked about that we can definitively say is evil rather than just an animal. Rather fitting for a living nightmare, I would say. And if you thought all that was disturbing, I have some...unfortunate news. I hope you aren’t eating anything right now, ‘cause this next part is just gross.

Y’know how some wasps lay their eggs inside other bugs so the eggs have incubation they can eat when they hatch? Well, uh...Khezu do that, too. And they’re hermaphrodites that, from what I can gather, don’t need to mate, so any adult Khezu is capable of injecting another monster with its “whelps” (not saying that Khezu are always “pregnant,” just saying that any of them can be). And you know the really crazy part? After everything I said about Khezu, there are still people in the MH world that tame them and keep them as pets. Why would you want to have a slimy, flabby, sadistic, parasitoid, 14-to-40-foot abomination as a pet!? God, people are so freaking weird.

EDIT (05/07/2021): My older brother reminded me that I forgot about one of the odder aspects of Khezu; when you enter a fight with a Main Monster, its battle theme plays (don’t know if every monster has a unique theme, but several do, to my knowledge), but Khezu has no theme to speak of. I don’t know if this is true in every game, or even if it was intentional at first, but it’s still both funny and eerie at the same time. There’s no background music until you get in a fight, so if you somehow tick off a Khezu without seeing it, then it can sneak up on you. “But Zaph, the moment a monster enters ‘fight mode,’ it roars! So the Khezu will give away its position!” See, you’d be right about that if it wasn’t for the fact that, according to TV Tropes at least, Khezu’s roar sounds just like wind--howling wind, yes, but wind all the same. I don’t know if there’s any howling wind SFX in the areas where Khezu live, so for all I know you’ll still be able to identify it in a hurry, but just imagine what that’s like in-universe! Imagine that you’re walking around in the Frost Islands or something and hear a chilling wind from out of nowhere. Unless you’re an experienced hunter, you’d likely have no idea if that was a Khezu or not, so you wouldn’t know if it’s too late to run or not, or even if you should run at all. Going back out of universe, the details I just described are very nice touches to a monster that was already horrifying in behavior, so I’m bumping the score here up from the 7 I initially gave it to 8/10.

Abilities: All of the “Flying Wyverns” I’ve talked about so far have had a lot of trouble with the whole “flying” part, and Khezu are no exception; they’re better at it than Diablos and Gravios, but they still need to flap really frantically to stay in the air. They’re great at jumping, though, and their gecko-like feet allow them to scale walls and stick to ceilings, something that their tails also allow them to do. Khezu are Thunder-element monsters capable of discharging electricity in a manner of ways, including shooting balls of it from their mouths and emitting it all around their bodies. Since Khezu like to spend time around water, their attacks are even more dangerous, as everything near them will likely be wet and therefore more conductive. This also applies to Khezu themselves, which may be why they stick their tails onto the ground before discharging electricity; they ground themselves so that they don’t shock themselves. Finally, Khezu saliva is very dangerous; we don’t know if it’s electric or acidic, but anything that gives off smoke when it touches something probably isn’t good for your health, which is why owning a pet Khezu is so dangerous; their drool can literally kill you. 7/10.

Equipment: Most Khezu weapons are as interesting as you’d expect them to be, considering the monster they’re made from. Most of them have a horror aesthetic, like this Great Sword called the Khezu Shock Sword:

I just noticed that the skin is actually stretched over the blade, rather than being what the blade’s attached to. Gross, but I never expected Khezu weapons to look pretty. There are also weapons which emphasize the monster’s electric aspect, like this Gunlance called the Full Voltage:

It still has Silent Hill vibes due to its “rusty hospital” aesthetic, and looking at it long enough reveals little details it inherited from Khezu. Speaking of hospitals, there are a couple of weapons based off of syringes, such as the Khezu Syringe, which is a Light Bowgun, and a Lance from MHFG that’s literally a giant hypodermic needle, but I didn’t want to show those off in case they triggered anyone with needle phobia. The last weapon I’m gonna show will be very familiar to those of us who’ve played the Rise demo a lot: the Insect Glaive known as the Bolt Chamber!

I like the green tube running from the sac between the blade and the shaft of the glaive; according to the Bolt Chamber’s in-game description, it uses that “pulsating device” to steal energy from its targets. If you mentioned that to me before I grabbed its image for this review, I probably would have asked how it did that. If you then pointed out the mouth at the glaive’s end, I would have thanked you for cursing me with the knowledge of its existence. Seriously, I’ve used this thing probably more than 20 times, and until I saw this render, I never noticed that. As for the armor, here’s the Blademaster Khezu Armor from MHGU:

The male armor here is almost identical to the one from Rise--which sadly doesn’t have any pictures on the wiki yet--and yes, it does look like the main character from Assassin’s Creed. The female armor, on the other hand, looks almost like a nurse’s outfit, especially with that metal thing on the woman’s head with the cross. The more I look at this equipment, the more I feel like they wanted people to think of Silent Hill, and if so, that’s pretty cool. I’ve got another armor set to show you; the Gunner version of the Khezu R Armor from MHGU:

Jesus, is this an armor set or a medical emergency? I can’t imagine bandages are very effective at protecting your body from physical damage, but thankfully it looks like most of them are just covering actual armor...meaning that the people who designed this stuff in-universe wanted the people wearing it to look like they were in an accident. Not sure I get why, but I’m not here to--actually, I am here to judge, so never mind; it’s gross. Also the female set has Khezu mouths as arm coverings, which is someone’s fetish, I’m sure. The equipment as a whole is macabrely interesting (TIL that macabrely is a real word) and calls to mind a fascinating horror game franchise, so 8/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: I figured that Khezu was gonna be interesting, but I didn’t know how far the devs would take the horror theming. Everything about this monster is creepy; it looks disturbing, it acts even worse, and its equipment makes me feel like I need a tetanus shot just from looking at it. But that’s not at all a bad thing...unless you’re really squeamish, in which case you were likely cringing this whole review. I’d apologize, but you made the choice to stick through ‘till the end. 8/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #monster hunter rise #zaph1337

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jincherie · 4 years

Note

Yes, please to Jinkook wolf au!!!!

alright, here u go!!

wolf jinkook x reader (jungkook x reader x seokjin)

5k // sfw // wolf au, mates au, college au // drabble/excerpt

“Are you sure its okay for me to becoming?”

There’s nerves evident in your tone,but even still you can’t help but recognise the contrary ball of excitementbeginning to unravel in your stomach. You know this feeling, these butterfliesare familiar, but you haven’t felt them in a long time—you’re not sure whyyou’re feeling them now, when you’re just going to meet friends of yourfriends.

“Of course it is!” Taehyung skipscloser to you so that he can swing his arm around your shoulders, almostknocking you flat on your face from the force of it if it weren’t for the griphis hand has on your arm. “I know I kind of intimidated you with all that talkof it being a monthly wolf thing, but to be honest a bunch of supernaturalstend to rock up—for the alcohol and the entertainment, presumably.”

“Hell, last time we held it at thebeach there were even some sirens that came out to mingle.” Jimin sidlesup next to you, grinning brightly—something about the incriminating twinkle inhis eyes told you that he was one of the ones being mingled with. “You don’thave to worry.”

“Uh, sirens are a pretty big stepaway from humans so,” you scuff your feet and pretend you don’t nearly tripfrom the action. “I think I do.”

“Nonsense!” Taehyung booms,embarrassingly loud as his voice echoes down the street. You’ve never been morethankful that it was night and people weren’t out and about to stare—thenagain, it’s probably a bit more of a commotion to be occurring at night.“Humans are welcome and come all the time! Well, a few of them. Anyway, wealready told the pack that you’re coming so they’re expecting you and if youchicken out it will be humiliating for all three of us.”

You gasp at him, appalled at how hewas abusing your overactive empathy by saying you’ll embarrass them by being ano-show. You can’t let him know he got you, though. “I’m not chickening out! Inever said I wouldn’t go!”

Taehyung only responds with asnicker, and you resist the urge to yank a lock of his blond hair like a child.The further down the road you get while bickering, the more the bundle ofnerves and anticipation inside you grows; you’re not sure what to do with it,the sensation broaching on unfamiliar. You elect to ignore it and simply hopeit will take the hint and go away.

“Yeah sure, whatever you say…”Jimin’s response grinds your gears further and you can’t help but wonderexactly how you ended up becoming such good friends with these two when they’reboth so annoying. Perhaps it’s because like attracts like, notthat you’re ever going to admit that out loud for them to hear.

You grumble indiscernibly, both maleshearing it easily with their sharper hearing. At once, they protest to thewords that left you, and the three of you are thrown into another of thehallmark arguments that seem to provide the scaffold of your relationship. Youbicker as you walk, the night breeze cool and damp from the shower that haddanced over the city barely an hour ago. As you reach further down the street,the houses becoming more and more sparsely situated, the familiar thrum of bassbegins to shake your chest and your ears begin to pick up on music carried by thebreeze.

You’re only just hearing it now, butyou don’t doubt Taehyung and Jimin heard it much earlier and it is the sourceof the sudden energy renewal that hit them a few minutes ago. With each stepyou take your stomach trembles and tightens, the sensations completely bizarreat this point. You’ve never been this nervous before—are you nervous? Is thatwhat it is? You shouldn’t be, you have no reason to be and you never usuallyare in situations like this. You have no idea what to do with yourself.

It’s as the three of you finallyapproach your destination— a pack dorm styled in a modern townhouse fashion,grey cement outside reflecting the strong, silver glow of the waxing moon,nearly full, so strongly it’s almost like a beacon before your eyes— that yourtwo friends finally stop, just at the gate that marks the beginning of theproperty. The music comes from somewhere within, a heavy trap beat at thecurrent moment. You can see figures in the windows, very suddenly recalling howmany new people are going to be here—new creatures.

“Your heartbeat is a bit uneven,”Taehyung observes, and instantly you flush in embarrassment that they’ve bothnoticed and are acutely aware that you are, in fact, nervous. You can’t evenoffer an explanation or defence because you don’t even know why! “You don’tneed to be nervous, but since you are…”

“Don’t worry!” Jimin chimes, loopingan arm through yours. The button on the sleeve of his blue leather jacketalmost catches on your shirt and he ignores your resulting glare. “We’ll bewith you! You have nothing to worry about, you’ll be safe here, and in the incrediblyunlikely event that something does happen, we’ll protect you, our favouritesquishy human friend.”

He finishes off his heartwarmingsentiment by squishing your cheeks, pulling at the fat there like an auntie.Whining, you immediately smack his hand away and shrug out of Taehyung’s arm.

“I don’t need you!” You declare,already stomping up the path and feeling the way the booming music movesthrough your chest. You know it’s going to be much, much louder on the otherside of the door. “Screw both of you! I’m a strong, independent woman, and I’mgonna go in there and I’m gonna get a strong drink and—and – I won’tneed your help! You’ll see!”

… …. ….. .. …. … .. .. . . . . .

You’d needed their help the secondyou got inside.

You’re in the kitchen now, sipping ona very strongly spiked glass of juice, reflecting on the embarrassment of thepast few minutes.

First of all, there was a group offeline shifters in the foyer that happened to be having a particularly heatedcatfight the second you walked inside. If someone hadn’t drunkenly stumbledinto you and conveniently knocked you out of the path of one of the shifter’sclaws, then it might have been you on the receiving end of a nasty gash on theface instead. You’d felt bad that some drunk stranger had taken the fall foryou for about a split second, before they healed within the next few momentsand let out a growl before unceremoniously throwing themselves in to join thefight. Right, you forgot for a second that you were surrounded bysupernaturals.

Of course, Jimin and Taehyungwitnessed the entire affair and snickered at you from the side. No help hadcome from them, contrary to what they’d announced outside about being yourprotectors for the night, so you’d let out a huff and turned on your heel tocontinue in search of drink. You realised very quickly you’d need it if youwere going to survive this night with minimal trauma.

This is your first time in theirpackhouse, so naturally you have no idea where you are or where you’re going.Like the terrible friends they are, Taehyung and Jimin just let you walk aroundboldly, acting like you know where you’re going. Apparently it was very funny.You’d be inclined to agree with them, if it weren’t for the fact that yourwandering led you to stumbling across not just one, or two, or even threeheated moments, but five in total. This is the opposite of what you hadwanted and you grew so flustered after the fifth time discovering a bunch ofsupernaturals in a borderline orgy (all of them had at least one nymph in them,you noticed wryly) that the two finally took pity on you and dragged you theright way to the kitchen, still laughing all the while. Yes, hilarious. You’regoing to have to work for years to unpack all you’d just seen.

You’d only arrived in the kitchenjust over a minute ago, long enough that you were able to finally get a drink,but even that entrance had been met with embarrassment. You stand inmortification now, taking a large sip of your drink as you continue to feeleyes boring into you from the side.

“This is y/n, Yoongi. She’s the onewe always tell you about! You know, the one who we met because we sat behindher and caught her streaming Ouran Host Club in our Art History lecture.”

At every incriminating word thatleaves Taehyung’s big mouth, you feel humiliation crawling further up yourspine and colouring your face even more. You can’t even bring yourself to lookat Yoongi, the pack member you’d been introduced to quite unceremoniously justa few minutes ago, but you can still— still— feel his eyes boring intoyou. It’s only as he snorts that you manage to risk a glance his way, shoulderstense with discomfort.

The second you lay eyes on him, youvery suddenly recall the very recent humiliating event that just occurred andinstantly wish to die.

(The kitchen, your main destination,is the source of the drinks for tonight, and hence your two friends drag youthere. Taehyung announces he knows just what to get you, and makes a show ofmixing a secret drink. You know exactly what he’s going to give you and yetfind yourself hoping he won’t.

Of course, you have no such luck.

“Taehyung, don’t you give me anythingmalty.” You warn, pointing your finger at him. The smile that touches his lipsis borderline cherubic as he holds out a cup, the smell of that damnalcohol and coke breaching your nostrils.

“Drink it.”

“Taehyung,” you warn again, taking astep back. “Don’t you dare. You know I can’t drink it.”

“How do you even know what it is? Imade it in secret!” He argues, advancing a step and making you retreat one inturn. He might have the face of an angel but you swear there’s horns stickingout from his wavy hair.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Huh?” Youraise your hand, threatening to push the cup away if he brings it any closer.“You always try to give me whisky, or beer—you know ever since that time itmakes me want to vomit—”

Long story short, Taehyung attemptsto feed you the cursed drink, and in your struggle to get away you end upsmacking it out of his hands.

Of course, right in the line of firehappens to be someone approaching the three of you, mouth open to saysomething. The drink ends up all down their shirt and that is the very firsttime you unknowingly receive the infamous Min Yoongi Glare.

Which you realise moments later whenTaehyung laughs and introduces him as one of the members of the pack. Is it toolate to leave?)

You drink might have gone on Yoongi’sshirt and rendered it gross, but without even a blink he’d just taken thet-shirt off and revealed a pristine long-sleeved shirt underneath. You’d havebeen impressed if you weren’t so mortified at the time.

He doesn’t seem to be holding itagainst you, but you can’t really help the way you’re acting. There’s somethingabout him, an air that seems to reach and raise the hairs at the back of yourneck. He’s intimidating, even if he does look like a cat when he smiles atTaehyung being a dumbass. His energy says ‘I could snap you in half over myknee if I so wanted’, but his face says ‘All I want is a cookie and warm milk’.It gives you a bit of whiplash.

“There’s less people here than Ithought there would be,” Jimin comments after Taehyung finishes embarrassingyou. Yoongi hums, downing a generous shot of straight vodka and then smackinghis lips. Maybe you’re right to be scared.

“Nah, it’s the same as usual, it’sjust that they’re all outside.” Yoongi leans against the bench with his hip,scratching behind his ear. You refuse to acknowledge the thought you have thatlikens him to a dog using their back leg to scratch. No, that’s gonna get youbeat up and evicted from the party. Best to ignore that one.

“What are they doing? It’s kind ofcold for the pool.” Taehyung tilts his head.

Yoongi blinks at him, seeming amused.“They’re watching the usual event that goes down at these things. We’ve amassedquite the crowd for it tonight. Must be all the ones that Shownu’s packinvited.”

His words are vague, but both boysbeside you light up, apparently much more clued in than you.

“Oh, yes! I love it when thishappens! Plus, it’s been a while since I last joined in… I might have totonight. You wanna be my partner, Jiminie?”

Jimin snorts, already pushing offfrom the bench and grabbing your arm to begin dragging you. Yoongi watches themfor a moment before growing bored and turning back around, reaching for thebottle of Smirnoff.

“No thanks, I nearly wiped myself outlast time, remember? Just ask Kookie. You know he’ll be up for it the secondyou challenge him.”

Taehyung hums, joining his friend indragging you in the direction of two glass sliding doors. You’re so confused,and kind of scared. They won’t listen to you asking them where the hell you’regoing, though. Head empty, ears turned off.

Before you know it, you’re steppingout of the house and into the ‘yard’, for lack of better word. Your drink isstill in your hand and you’re trying desperately not to spill it as yourfriends grow more careless in their movements. Sometimes, you think they forgetthey’re werewolves with werewolf strength.

Outside is illuminated by stronglights attached to the back of the building, a pool set to the side and avast, clear field directly centre before you. There are a few groups of peoplejust milling about, minding their own business and having their own fun—inmultiple senses of the word, you note as you tear your eyes away from a couplein the corner with flaming cheeks. Will your mind have no choice but to leavethis party tainted? The rest of the people, what you would argue is a largechunk of the attending partygoers, are cheering and hollering towards the edgeof the clearing. Jimin and Taehyung seem unbelievably excited at this fact, andare quick to drag you over.

Very quickly are you enlightened asto what is happening, and you’re equal parts incredulous, impressed, andbaffled.

Put bluntly—they’re having werewolfraces.

Teens and young adults around youholler and cheer, a large portion of the amassed crowd hooting as two wolvestear across the grass, going so fast you almost fall over from the shock of it.You had no idea anything in this world could move that fast! Well, that’s alie, you knew about it. Still, seeing it is different!

Both wolves are massive, one colouredrosy gold and the other dark, speckled grey. They’re about the same size, youmanage to observe despite the blur of their movements, but the grey one is justa bit bigger, and leaner, while its companion is stockier. Oddly, despite thefact you’ve been here all of thirty seconds, you find yourself becomingentranced as you watch with bated breath to see who will be the winner of thisrace. What can you say, you’ve always been a sucker for a competition.

The finish line is marked by two binson the far right side of the clearing, and as the two wolves grow closer thesmaller one seems to gain more ground. The crowd goes off in anticipation. Youreally think that it might be the one to win, until the grey wolf lets out ashort yowl that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and then proceeds to launchitself forward and to the side, just barely feet from the bins. It goes rightin front of the gold wolf, of course, and with an irate bark and a short growlthe two of them go down in a tangle of limbs, the race devolving into anabridged form of wolf wrestling. When they cross the finish line it’s as oneunit, and you can hear the disappointment in the crowd behind you.

“HAH Yugyeom is always such a dirtycheat, I don’t know why Jackson never remembers and always agrees to race him.”Taehyung is cackling beside you, Jimin joining his amusement, while you watchthe two wolves tumble and roll in a blur until they separate and instead of twohulking wolves, it’s two shirtless males falling back on the damp grass, theirpants looking like they’d seen better days.

“Woah,” you can’t help but remark,eyes wide. You’ve heard a lot about wolf transformations, but you didn’trealise it was so quick.

Almost as though he can read yourmind, Jimin shoots you an amused smile. “The closer it is to a full moon, theeasier it is to transform. It’s a lot harder, longer, sometimes more painfulwhen it’s a new or waning moon.”

You wince, but Taehyung’s optimisticchime clears the expression from your face. “Yeah, we’re so close to the fullmoon right now that we can change in just a few seconds. It’s much smoother,and less stressful on the body. Which is good, since the nearer we are to afull moon the more our wolf itches to get out.”

“A lot of little details go into yourlives huh,” you comment, marvelling at all the things you’re learning even now,almost half a year into knowing them.

“Yup,” Taehyung answers, though he’sremarkably distracted as he does so. He seems to be searching the crowd behindyou for someone, and you find out exactly who in the next moment. “Ah, there heis— Namjoon!”

You turn in the direction Taehyungwaved, catching sight of a tall male with an ashy, silver-hued undercutstanding a good few metres away, pink drink to his mouth. He nearly spills itwhen his name is called, though, and you quickly connect the stories you’veheard of him and his clumsiness with his face. Ah, at last, the man, the myth,the legend himself – the resident Wolf God of Destruction.

Clearly a little bit drunk, if theway he wobbles as he turns to face you, long limbs like jelly, is anything togo by, Namjoon waves enthusiastically.

“I thought I smelt you,” he says, andit takes a moment for you to remember that’s something normal for them. “Whattook you guysh so long?”

He’s much less intimidating thanYoongi, you observe, but at the same time there’s a different sort ofundercurrent that surrounds him. He’s intimidating in a different way, a waythat you can’t quite name or put your finger on—despite the fact you think youjust saw him spill a bit of his drink on his white t-shirt. Your suspicions areconfirmed when you see a splotch of pink bloom in the fabric moments later.

“We were dragging this one out,”Taehyung happily responds, slapping you on the back. You narrow your eyes athim; oh, you’ll remember his eagerness to humiliate you.

Namjoon, you’re pretty sure, hadn’teven realised you were there until Taehyung just pointed you out. “Oh, hello!”

“Joon, this is y/n, the friend wealways tell you about, the one we said we were bringing tonight,” Jiminintroduces, prompting you to do an awkward little wave. He then gestures to thetall male currently beaming at you with dimples on display. “y/n, this isNamjoon, our leader and one of the alphas of the pack.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” you greet,smiling brightly and allowing yourself to slip comfortably into your moreextroverted persona. “Thank you for letting me come tonight!”

Namjoon seems somewhat flustered atyour words. “Nice to meet you too, and it’s no problem—you’re welcome to come,you know, these things aren’t anything exclusive. Um, it’s kind of justwhoever… yeah.”

Taehyung snorts, apparently findingthe partway inebriation of his leader very funny. “Great, now she’s met almosteverybody. Where’s the rest?”

“Hope’s inside, probably practicingthe karma sutra with some poor soul,” Namjoon answers, swaying as he sculls therest of his drink. It takes all of your willpower not to sputter and guffaw athis words. He then jerks his thumb behind him. “As for dumb and dumber—they’reover there. They’ve been bickering about who’s faster for the past ten minutes,so they’re probably going to race soon.”

“Again?!” Taehyung groans, and you’reonly left wondering why for a moment before he continues and answers the silentquestion in your head. “I have hardly anything left in my wallet from lasttime, why are they going again?”

Jimin snorts. “It’s your own faultfor betting on the wrong party. You know it’s actually kind of impressive howyou manage to choose the one that loses every time. Maybe you’re a bad luckcharm.”

Insulted beyond belief, Taehyunggapes at his friend and packmate, looking to Namjoon every few seconds like achild looking to their parent and waiting for them to step in and scold theirsibling. Namjoon isn’t going to be any help anytime soon, however, as you turnyour gaze and catch him staring with a frown into the bottom of his cup withunwavering focus, like he was trying to figure out where his drink went. Apparently, this wasn’t his first one of the night.

Before Taehyung and Jimin cancontinue bickering any more, there is a commotion behind Namjoon that catchesyour collective attention. There’s movement in the crowd, people shuffling andshouting, some laughing and cheering, before two figures break out. One of themis in a headlock but quickly wriggles his way out, bolting your way—the otheris hot on his heels.

“You’ll never catch me, old man!” Itdoesn’t take you long to figure out that the one in front has no apparent fearof god or man. “You’re as slow as ever! I’m gonna run laps around youagain, just you watch!”

“YAH! If I’m so old then where’s therespect, huh?! I’m five years older than you, that’s five years I’ve spentrunning more—”

You knew they were heading in yourgeneral direction, but you didn’t realise that they were quite literallyheading straight for you, and by no means looking where they’re going. Theymove so fast that not even Taehyung or Jimin, let alone yourself, can warn themor move out of the way. All you know is that one second you’re standing therenursing your drink and preparing to take a sip, and the next you’ve been bowledto the ground, dampness seeping into your back and front.

(Faintly, you realise your drink hasended up all over your front, and you think you can hear Karma laughing in thedistance.)

Blinking, for a moment you worryyou’ve been concussed before your vision clears and you’re made aware of a veryheavy weight atop of you. Somewhat delayed, a small noise of pain escapes youand it seems to be what kicks the person atop of you into gear.

“Oh!” They’re scrambling off of youinstantly, still kneeling on the ground but no longer atop of you as you bringyourself to lean on your elbows with a groan. “Oh, I- I a-am so sorry, I w—”

You expect the apologies to continuewhen they cut off abruptly, and when the silence stretches on another momentyou look up in confusion. You feel your stomach flip at the sight of the boythat had knocked you over, boyish features frozen in a look that you have noidea how to interpret except for complete and utter surprise. He’s cute,you observe with only the slightest amount of shame, even when he looks like adeer caught in headlights. The dark curls atop his head and the dark cocoa ofhis eyes do him justice—wait, you could have sworn they were dark brown, but asyou look at him you swear you see the outside begin to tinge gold.

“Uh, it’s okay—” the words are moreautomatic than anything, and an attempt to fill the space left by the boy whois still sitting frozen and staring at you. You don’t even get to finishthough, cut off by the voice of the person who had been chasing this boy thatknocked you over like a pin in a bowling lane.

“Jungkook, you little brat! Look whatyou did, you went and knocked some poor girl over! You even spilt her drink onher shirt—what are you doing, get off her already you bratty pup—”

Arms slip under the boy and almosthaul him away, but froze in their motions. Your eyes fly to the face of theperson they belong to, and you feel your stomach flip once more, nerves andheartbeat off the charts. He’s older-looking, less boyish in the face than theboy that ran you over, but even so he’s probably one of the most strikinglyattractive people you’ve ever seen; and he’s frozen, staring at you with thatexact same caught-in-headlights look as the boy in his arms. You feel a wash ofheat flow along your back and crawl up your neck at the attention. Suddenly,your insecurities return from earlier. God, you knew it, you shouldn’t havecome—it’s because you’re human, isn’t it? They can clearly tell, and—

“y/n!”

It seems that Taehyung and Jimin’sfriend instincts have finally kicked in after a prolonged amount of timewherein you were left on the ground, and they both grasp an arm to haul you uponto your feet. The change in angle makes you acutely aware of the drinkdrenching your front and sliding down your skin. Oh, god, that’s going to be sosticky later.

“Are you—” Jimin barely gets tofinish asking if you’re okay before a sound you’ve never heard so close beforesplits the air and instantly raises the hair on the back of your neck, yourentire body stiffening.

Growling, low and so strong itresonates through your chest. Your eyes whip to the source, surprise washingover you to see that its those same two boys, eyes no longer dark as you’d justseen but flaring a peculiar gold that whirls like liquid. Instantly, you’reaware of how the air and crowd around you has suddenly stilled, all attentionon your little group. The growls continue until Jimin and Taehyung’s handsleave your arms, and then their attention is on each other.

If you thought the first sounds letout were terrifying, then the snarls that were let loose at each other weredownright bloodcurdling. You have no idea what has caused thesudden animosity between them, since they seem to be packmates, but for amoment you think they might be about to fight for real. The tension in the airmakes it hard to breathe as the sounds grow louder, boys leaning away from eachother and their forms beginning to tremble. Just as you think they’re about toshift, a stern voice cuts through the air.

“Stop.”

Instantly the snarling and growlingceases, the two boys stilling completely. The tension is cut as something elsewashes over the field.

It’s Namjoon who spoke, and thecommand in his tone makes your stomach clench and shoulders pinch in tension.He seems to be momentarily sober enough to reprimand the two, incredulous eyesgoing between each of them.

“Are the two of you seriously growlingand snarling at each other like pups right now? Are you kidding me?” He soundsalmost like an exasperated father as he snaps at the two, gaze whipping toTaehyung and Jimin to deliver a nod over his shoulder, before he continues hisscolding. “Both of you are fast! My gods, do you have to fight about this everytime we have a celebration? Honestly. Both of you go inside and cool downbefore I tell Yoongi and he beats your asses. I’m drunk, I shouldn’t have toeven—”

Regrettably, you don’t get to hear therest of the reprimanding. Taehyung and Jimin step in front of you, nudging andpushing you back before you realise they’re herding you away and you look tothem in confusion.

“Jungkookie and Jinnie are about toget in a lot of trouble, and there probably won’t be much fun and games afterthat, so we may as well go,” Taehyung says with a shrug, nonchalant as ever.There’s something different in his expression though, the barest hint ofconfusion; apparently his two other packmates don’t fight to that extent veryoften.

“But—but I’m not even drunk! I didn’teven get to finish my second drink!” you protest, eyes going to your shirtwhich now displays the fate of your poor, unfortunate drink.

“That’s fine, you have vodka at yourhouse right?” Jimin asks, continuing to urge you. “We’ll just get shitfacedthere. Dibs on the couch for sleeping tonight.”

At the unexpected and cruel twist offate that has left him allocated to sleeping on the floor of your unit,Taehyung lets out a whine. You leave the property at their urging, but can’thelp but feel a certain two pairs of eyes boring into your back the entire wayout.

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timothypines · 3 years

Text

Is Classical Music Dead? (Essay)

How does society determine when a particular genre of music is dead? From this question, multiple others are born. For example, do we consider that the inspiration from music continued throughout popular genres as the survival of what it was originally? Or is it dead because it has changed into something different from its original form? When it comes to classical music, it isn’t really as question about whether or not it is dead, but if it’s dying. Classical music is still being performed, listened to, and celebrated in communities today, so calling it dead seems premature, even foolish. That’s not to say that the average person believing classical music is dying is without merit; classical music isn’t usually on the radar for say a random person asked off the street. However, when looked at from the perspective of the musical community, classical music is positively flourishing and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

In a New York Times Article, a violinist showed concern that the classical music industry was dying. Some readers responded in letters reacting to the concerns she expressed. The violinist started by saying, “A schoolboy recently asked me if Richard Wagner was a pitcher for the Yankees. At that moment I feared that classical music in America was doomed” (Dreyer). Like this violinist expressed, most people in the music community, and outside the community, acknowledge that classical music isn’t a subject that most people going through life know a whole lot about. While many know some parts of classical pieces and perhaps some names of famous composers, their knowledge is surface level and, for the most part, they don’t seek to learn more. This reflects in some worrying trends in the industry. Classical radio stations were shutting down, concerts were being reduced and canceled, less and less were classical musicians being discussed (Dreyer). Classical music simply isn’t popular. But from this trend came a great wave of musicians, teachers, and lovers of classical music who were determined to spread the love and knowledge of a music they deemed immensely important, and rightfully so.

Most all of the music we have and enjoy today has elements that came from classical music, from the most basic to the more complex. The major-minor scale system that is commonly used in the majority of today’s music was first put into use in the baroque period. It was in this period that the scale system was also standardized (Willoughby). In fact, the baroque period standardized a great many musical tools, styles, and elements. From this period developed keyboard music, which lead to the invention of the modern piano, an instrument that can be argued to be the most important instrument when it comes to creating music, harmony, a base element in most music performed today, and the establishment of the orchestra (Willoughby). It would take a long time to list all of the musical elements gained and standardized in the baroque period, but it is certain that music would not look nearly the same if not for the major development that occurred.

The baroque period, while very important, wasn’t the only period that significantly influenced music. The romantic period brought what was missing from music in the baroque period back into the musical community, emotion. A big emphasis on music today is how it makes the listener feel. While the baroque period brought technicality, all emotion was sacrificed for ridged structure and extremely complex technique. Beethoven put emotion into his music, effectively shifting people’s approach to composing. Willoughby writes, “These attributes of Beethoven mirror the attributes of the Romantic period as a whole; it was a time when artistic expression became highly individual and personal, and also highly emotional” (Willoughby, 253). With this wave of emotion came another change; music started being made for music’s sake. Composers started writing what they wanted to hear instead of what was popular or what the church needed for service. A large part of what music is now has come from classical music, and most people within the music community, of many genres, understand and respect this.

It is important to be noted that while people respect the roots that classical music has provided, that doesn’t mean that people are very supportive of how it exists, or rather, how they believe it exists. There is a notion that classical music is elitist, for the rich and privileged only. One could point to the expensive ticketing for opera and ballets and orchestra performances to prove this point, but there are many things that are just as or even more expensive than these tickets that people don’t find elitist—for example, sporting events (Cross-eyed Pianist). Some people will point at the etiquette and dress for attendance at a concert hall. The fact remains, however, that opera houses and concert halls have no official dress code or strict rules everyone must follow. Music blogger and commenter goes on to say, “It troubles me, this negative perception of classical music and its fans, and it strikes me that currently there is an image crisis surrounding classical music. It wasn’t always like this. When I was growing up in the 1970s, there was more classical music in our everyday lives” (Cross-eyed Pianist). Most people have the notion that classical music is only accessible to and is only made for those better off than themselves, even though it has been available to and made for everyone’s ears for centuries now.

With that in mind, the love for classical music itself has not died out yet. There is a vast and passionate community of musicians, teachers, and listeners who adore classical music and saw it failing in the wider community. These people have worked hard and are continuing to work hard to spread a passion for classical music. An excellent example of some people doing this is the YouTube duo who run the channel Two Set Violin. On this channel they make comedy sketches, play games, and react to videos. All of this content is tied together by one thing, classical music. Brett and Eddy, the two friends who run Two Set, are professionally trained violinists who decided to make a YouTube channel to try and spread love for classical music. It was also important to them to make classical music and the education of classical music more accessible. They teach about music in an engaging, funny way all while encouraging their audience to create and perform music. Their saying is simply ‘practice’. They encourage their musician audience members by reminding them that no one who is really good at playing an instrument got there without hard work and tell them to keep practicing. Two Set has even brought on large musicians like Hillary Han and Benny Chen to talk about their experiences and the importance of practicing. This helps to break the stereotype of not only what a classical musician looks like, but how they act and how much work goes into their music. In one video, while reacting to an American Idol performance with two violinists, one of the judges says, “It’s so nice to see such young, good looking guys that play the violin because usually they’re like old and bald and, you know, a bit greasy” (Two Set Violin). They respond by pointing out that they themselves are young and that this is a negative stereotype. In another video they react to a man that says he is the fastest violin player in the world. Brett says, “the world needs to know that classical music is more than just playing fast” (Two Set Violin). In these two videos, Brett and Eddy are challenging the media’s, and greater public’s, view of classical music, the view that classical music is old, for old people, and the people who participate are elitists who only care about perfection and technicality. And they have done so much more than videos like these reaction to other musicians. They have had videos where they have their followers compose a piece and send it to them to play. They have asked people to send in clips of them performing for them to react to. In so many ways these two violinists have gotten so many people involved in classical music. Over the years they have grown a great following of people who love participating in classical music, whether that be through performance or listening; as of today, they have almost 3 million subscribers (Two Set Violin). Brett and Eddy aren’t the only people who have gotten the public more involved in classical music. As social media has grown, classical musicians have become increasingly accessible to the public. The violinist Hillary Han often posts on Instagram videos of her practicing and other music related things, but she also speaks on social issues and gives insight into her life. This shows all 300,000 followers she is human (violincase).

It is difficult to say whether or not a musical genre is dead, and even harder to say if it’s dying. The act of music dying would take centuries, and even then, there are arguments to be made that because other music that exists was influenced by the ‘dead’ music, it still lives. Classical music was the popular music for centuries, its memory will not so easily fade, especially to the point where it is considered a dead genre. Even if it is not a popular genre today, classical music is being kept alive by the musicians who perform it and the people who love to listen to it. Music is art that decorates and marks time, and so, as long as people paint time with classical music, it is not dead.

Work Cited

Dreyer, Les. “Sunday Dialogue: Is Classical Music Dying?” The New York Times, 2012. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/25/opinion/sunday/sunday-dialogue-is-classical-music-dying.html

Willoughby, David. The World of Music. McGraw-Hill Higher Education. Kindle Edition.

The Cross-Eyed Pianist. “Who Made Classical Music ‘elitist’?” The Cross-Eyed Pianist, 2019. https://crosseyedpianist.com/2019/07/24/who-made-classical-music-elitist/

Two Set Violin. “The World's FASTEST (and most INACCURATE) VIOLINIST!” YouTube, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsvaCU6i1M&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Two Set Violin. “Classical Violinists React to Mainstream Violin Competitions” YouTube, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uVN5Fb_Z44&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Han, Hillary. “@violincase” Instagram.

#classical music #music #twosetviolin #hillary han

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vanessakirbyfans · 3 years

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Defying expectations, challenging Hollywood’s norms and facing one’s own fear of failing emerged as central themes when Michelle Pfeiffer, Kate Winslet, Rashida Jones, Vanessa Kirby and Andra Day met virtually in December for The Envelope’s Actress Roundtable. Collectively, they represent four decades in film and more wild experiences than we can fit in one discussion — and they’re also behind some of the most complex characters in film right now.

Pfeiffer is eccentric, wealthy New York widow Frances Price in the quirky drama “French Exit,” which opens this week in limited release. When Price blows through most of her inheritance, she flees to Paris, where she attracts an odd assortment of friends. Winslet is rough-hewn paleontologist Mary Anning in “Ammonite,” a period drama that explores the hardships of a female pioneer in 19th century England’s patriarchal science world and the challenges she faced hiding her love for another woman.

Jones is Laura, the dutiful daughter of an eccentric father in the comedy-drama “On the Rocks.” Despite their complicated history, daughter and father embark on a covert mission to find out if her husband is cheating, but self-discovery may just be the biggest reveal. Kirby conveys anger, sorrow and grief following the death of her newborn baby as Martha in the emotionally wrenching “Pieces of a Woman.” And singer Day makes her film debut in “The United States vs. Billie Holiday,” a period drama streaming on Hulu later this month that chronicles Holiday’s battles with law enforcement, drugs and the crush of systemic racism.

Their conversation here has been edited for length and clarity.

Your films are built around narratives of complex women, many of whom face challenges that aren’t often explored on screen. “Pieces of a Woman” is a great example of a film that is so specifically female, it would have never made it to the screen in the past.

Vanessa Kirby: It definitely feels like a different time right now ... we want to represent women that we identify as being us and the weird parts of us. In the movie, my biggest intention was to make it not a sanitized, movie version of a birth. So [she] felt super sick and burped a lot. She was really nauseous ... things that we might think are unpalatable or not comfortable. That’s all the facets of being human, and particularly being a women. I’ve read so many scripts where it was a version of a woman that I don’t know. It was a film version as opposed to my sister or my best mates or me.

Kate Winslet: That’s what is great about now ... the world is making space for all of these stories. We’ve always tried to tell these stories, but the world is more receptive to hearing them now. That is a shift.... It’s such a moving, seismic time to be doing this job.

Michelle, your character Frances Price is the perfect example of an imperfect female protaganist. She is a mess, and fantastic, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Michelle Pfeiffer: I was just was so curious about this woman, and I thought she was so odd and not like a character that I had seen or that I had played. And then the dialogue is very stylized. So you have to give in to it but, at the same time, not too much. It was made up of these disparate tones of absurdism and melancholy, and it was funny, and it was tragic — these oddballs sort of living on the fringe of society and trying to make some sort of human connection, all of them, in some way.

Rashida, in “On the Rocks,” you play a reserved writer with a charming, flamboyant father. Your real father is Quincy Jones. What sort of parallels did you feel playing Laura?

Rashida Jones: I very much related to this idea of coming of age with a larger-than-life father who commands presence and changes the atmosphere of any room he walks into, and how that in itself can be something you have to untangle from. Because in order to be your own person, in order to find your life, in order to figure out who you are in the world, not relational to anybody else, you have to separate yourself from all that charm and the warm light of your father’s love. That part of it I very much related to. But Laura is unlike me in the sense that I’m pretty outspoken. This character, I think, has a lot of restraint. That was a challenge.

Andra, stepping into the shoes of Billie Holiday must have been a huge challenge, and this is your first film!

Andra Day: It was definitely terrifying. First of all, I’m a fan of hers. And I’ve always loved movies and had such a great respect for the craft of acting. My biggest terror was that I was going to suck. So I was like, “OK, I’m going to take two to three years off of music just to study and focus on acting.” I auditioned at the end of 2017, landed the role at the beginning of 2018, and then we shot at the end of 2019. So I had time to really live in her [shoes]. The film isn’t a sanitized version of Billie Holiday. She is raw. She is a fighter. She’s a hero, in all of her real humanness, even as a fractured figure. All of the emotional pain. It was the most challenging and rewarding thing I’ve done in my life — and the most terrifying.

Winslet: It never goes away.

Day: That’s actually my question. I mean, do you ever really, really shed all of it or let it go?

Winslet: Honestly, it does not go away. But I feel so excited for you, Andra, that in this moment you are connecting with other people, having these kinds of conversations, because we all learn on the job. All of these experiences that we are sharing are the things that will hold you up and buoy you through, and this is a time when we have to hold each other up. But it doesn’t get any easier. And I’m afraid you will always be terrified. I f—ing am.

Pfeiffer: When I first started acting, probably for the first 10 years, I literally on the first day would shake so terribly that I was sure you could see it on film. Fortunately, you couldn’t. I don’t shake any more, but I still have those jitters. I still think the first week of shooting I’m going to be fired and replaced.

Jones: Yeah. So congratulations on that, for a lifetime.

Day: This is a roundtable, but also a therapy session.

Let’s talk about the risks that jangle those nerves. Those of you who have been doing this a while have tackled a wide variety of characters and survived, and thrived. That’s unusual in Hollywood, especially for women.

Pfeiffer: Like all actors, you sort of choose the best of what is available to you, and go for as long as you can without working, until you need a paycheck. It’s also that thing where, depending on what your last role was, that’s how the industry sees you. It’s really up to you to try to find those things that shift it in the direction you want it to go. I did “Grease 2,” and that was one thing, and then was lucky enough a year later to get cast in “Scarface.” People were very upended, because nobody expected that turn. And then when I did “Married to the Mob,” that [was] another seismic shift, like, “Whoa, wait a minute; who’s that?” I remember when I met Marty Scorsese for the first time, he expected this dark-haired girl from New Jersey to walk in. That was one of the most flattering things anyone ever said about my work. It’s just looking for those opportunities, and sometimes they’re very small, but those small opportunities end up having the biggest impact on the direction that your career goes in.

Jones: I just want to interrupt and say how cool this is. Michelle, obviously, you’re an icon and a legend, but the fact that you did [those films] back to back; such different things, such different audiences, such different characters. To me, that is the success of the art form.

Pfeiffer: Well, thank you. I spent lots of time being unemployed and waiting and really stretching it out, but it is, for me, the most exciting thing about being an actor. And that’s why we’re always terrified, because we’re always trying to do something different.

Day: As music artists, people are always trying to put you in a box, like, “This is what you do,” and we’re constantly rebelling against that, because life’s not like that. I can’t be the same. This role changed me, and I wouldn’t have been the same [person] as three years ago anyway. As a fan of yours, [Michelle], it’s exciting not to know what you’re going to come out with next.

Kate, your recent leap into the unknown is playing Mary Anning.

Winslet: She was a woman of scientific brilliance who made pioneering discoveries in the fossil world. But she was an unsung hero, because she lived in the early 1800s, and the world of science and geology was, like so many worlds back then and still now, dominated by men. And those men would buy her finds and claim them as their own discoveries, actually put their names on them. But there was something incredibly stoic and accepting of her lot in life. Mary was self-taught. She was extremely working-class, actually impoverished, lived a very harsh life. I just loved her even though she is cantankerous at times and quite difficult.

Vanessa, in “Pieces of a Woman,” Martha is emotionally distant and hard to read even after going through significant trauma. Was that challenging?

Kirby: In her nature, [Martha] tries to never show anything she’s feeling. So I was really scared, because I thought, “Oh, my God, what if it looks like I’m feeling nothing or nothing’s going on?” I just had to trust that if I really felt it, and I really thought those thoughts [it would come through]. I’ve never given birth ... so a lot of women spoke to me about their experiences of miscarriage or stillbirth or losing children. I owe them everything, because they allowed me to sit with them and try and understand how it really felt. At the end of the shoot, I was like, “I hope it’s done them justice,” because it’s definitely something that’s not spoken about. There’s so much silence around it. I hope that the film will help start conversations that really need to start happening.

Andra, Billie had an exceptional life that was also quite brutal. How did you go about trying to convey that while still honoring her greatness?

Day: She is musically, my foremost inspiration. I already knew a lot about the government going after her. The early war on drugs, and the subsequent wars on drugs, were wholly entrenched in race. I was aware of that, but I didn’t know about how deeply they went after her, even up to her death. Yes, she was an addict and, yes, alcohol and drugs ... but they wanted her to die. And not just kill her, but to actually eradicate her legacy. It’s why I call her the godmother of civil rights, because she was doing it alone. Her singing “Strange Fruit” and the death of Emmett Till reinvigorated the civil rights movement. She was innately a fighter, a character with resilience and tenacity.

Kirby: Kate, can I ask what it was like being so young in “Titanic”? Did it like blow your mind after it came out and you realized that that many people were watching you in the cinema? Did you know at the time when you were making it —

Winslet: I didn’t. I was playing an American for the first time. And working with Leo, who I’d seen in "[What’s Eating] Gilbert Grape” and “Basketball Diaries.” So it was like, “Oh, my God, I’m Kate from Reading.” I was the overweight girl who would always be at the end of the line. And because my name was a W, sometimes I wouldn’t even get in the door of the audition because they’d run out of time before the Ws. And I was in “Titanic.” It’s mad.

Jones: How were you smart enough to know, even with all of that pressure and then getting hit with all of that fame, how did you know to back off and not take the big paychecks? You were so young. How did you know to shoot for longevity?

Winslet: The honest answer is I was scared of Hollywood. A big, scary place, where everyone had to be thin and look a certain way. And I knew that I did not look that way or feel like I fit there, so if I was ever going to belong, I had to earn my place. And to me, I hadn’t earned it. “Titanic” might have been a fluke. I had done “Heavenly Creatures.” I had done “Sense and Sensibility,” which I was nominated for an Academy Award for at the age of 19, but still I had this feeling of “maybe that was just luck.” When I became a mother at 25, all of that stuff evaporated completely. Then two years after she was born, I was asked to do “Eternal Sunshine [of the Spotless Mind].” I do believe that was a huge turning point in my career, because from then on people suddenly went, “Oh, she can do that?!”

Kate, what if anything did you learn from “Ammonite”?

Winslet: It really opened my eyes to wanting to take responsibility for this sort of shared voice that we have as women. To try harder to not be objectified.

Jones: But we take it for granted that things will be the way they’re supposed to be. And that’s what’s been cool about the last five years is there has been a complete and utter subversion of just having that existential moment of like, “Wait, what is it that I’m supposed to do? What are the societal norms? What are the professional norms that I’ve agreed upon that actually don’t feel comfortable?”

Kirby: I remember when I first started reading scripts, the character descriptions. The man, it would always be “articulate, intelligent, high-powered.” And then the woman would be “attractive, dark, beautiful hair, and all eyes look at her when she comes into the room.” It was so subtly objectifying. Often, the woman would be just ever so slightly moving the man’s story along, rather than necessarily having her own journey.

Day: I think we so often write this [young] generation off as like, “Oh, it’s the social media generation, and all they care about is selfies and dah, dah, dah.” But I think we can partly attribute this shift to them. I don’t think this generation wants the glossy, clean, the sanitized version of life. Also, with the internet and social media, everyone’s still connected; the globe is so much smaller now.

Rashida, you’ve not only acted, you’ve written, produced and directed. Do you think that kind of representation behind the camera is making a difference in what we are seeing?

Jones: The good news now is there definitely is an appetite, at least within Hollywood, for female content creators. And what’s nice is what all of you have been saying is the more women there are around, the more comfortable women feel advocating for themselves. If you don’t have that representation around, you’re less likely to speak up, because you don’t feel like you have any backup.

Day: One of the things we learned is that certain audiences would wince at [Billie] getting beat, but I was like, “If we don’t have that in there, then we’re continuing to retool her narrative, the thing that she’s been a victim of her entire life.” Suzan-Lori Parks cowrote this movie with Lee Daniels. Women’s stories have always been told through the lens of masculinity, through how they view us or how they want us to be. Most of our stories need to be told by women, written by women, done by women. Not to write men out of the picture, but for them to understand that it is a collaborative effort.

#Vanessa Kirby #Pieces of a Woman #Kate Winslet #Michelle Pfeiffer #Rashida Jones #Andra Day #Interview #Articles #Roundtable #Videos

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pretty-in-roses · 4 years

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Brutal and Benevolent

WARNINGS: NONE

Summary: In a world where soulmates feel each other's pain y/n is sure her soulmate hates her for all the pain she's put them through and her life is too dangerous for a soulmate, she is praying to God they won't find her. Jungkook on the other hand wants nothing but to find his soulmate that's constantly getting hurt, all he wants to do is protect them. What happens when a college student and mafia leaders world's collide? Will their relationship survive?

Soulmate AU + Mafia AU

Chapter 1: The meeting of souls

In the beginning when Zeus created humans they were androgynous with both sets of female and male organs along with 2 faces, 4 arms as well as 4 legs. They were quite the monstrosities but they were powerful, fearing their power Zeus decided to split each in two. As time went on it was pretty obvious that each half was miserable and longing for the other. Finally, Zeus, moved by pity, tasked Aphrodite the goddess of love to find a way for each of the halves to find each other to become whole and thus soulmates were created.

Legend has it that soulmates feel each other's pain and that's how you know that your soulmate is still alive. If your soulmate were to die it has been theorized that the other half would inexplicably follow soon after.

The first time Jungkook felt his soulmate's pain was when he was 11, he felt a tremendous pressure on his stomach, enough to make him empty his stomach onto the floor of the living room and when he explained to his parents what had happened they told me the legend of soulmates, his other half. He was beyond ecstatic to know that there was someone out there that was destined to be with him and he can’t wait to find them.

“Fate will bring us together, wait for me,” he whispers.

Jungkook grunted as he felt what he assumed was a punch to his soulmate's jaw, no doubt leaving an ugly bruise. He let out an exasperated sigh as he remembers this was a daily occurrence, he does worry for his soulmate who seems to be in constant danger and always getting hurt. He still has no clue as to what they could be doing that’s causing them so much pain. His thoughts get interrupted as his best friends slide into the booth of their favourite cafe down the road from the apartment they share.

That’s how they met, through a roommate wanted flyer which Jungkook found when he was looking for somewhere to live when he started his first year of college. Luckily he and Jimin are doing the same degree except he is in 3rd year and so is Taehyung but Taehyung is doing a Bachelor of Arts majoring in art history while Jimin is doing a bachelor of arts majoring in music. He was pretty ecstatic to find affordable housing nearby and make friends.

“Dude, have you seen your jaw?” asks Taehyung.

“Yeah man I’m pretty sure you didn’t have that when I left to grab your drink,” confirms Jimin.

“It’s not that bad is it?” Jungkook enquires wincing from the lingering pain.

“Uhhh well-” Jimin starts but he gets cut off.

“Nevermind,” Jungkook sip his drink thoughtfully.

Taehyungs phone rings, he looks at his anxiously as he gets up to answer it. He tunes it out and talks to Jimin about dance class as they were discussing the upcoming duet performances they are planning on doing together, they still haven’t decided on a song.

“Do you have a genre in mind?” Jungkook questions.

“Uh, maybe something classical yet hard-hitting?” suggest Jimin shrugging. As Jungkook was about to reply Taehyung comes back with an alarmed look.

“We have to go, NOW,” he asserts abruptly, he’s tugging Jungkook and Jimin out the door before they can object.

“What the fuck Tae?” Jimin exclaims confusedly as they’re walking across the road away from the university.

“Where we going? I have class in an hour” Jungkook argues.

“Yeah, hey slow down. Why are we rushing?” Jimin adds

“Taehyung, what's going on? You’re scaring us” Jungkook has never seen him like this and it’s making him nervous. Taehyung curses himself for not driving so he opts to walk at a brisk pace pulling his friends along with him. Jungkook notices Taehyung freeze at the sight of three men blocking the side of the sidewalk they’re on and he manoeuvres them down an alley before the men can catch up. He stops abruptly at the sight of three more men blocking the end of the alleyway. They all turn to look behind them and see the three men from before blocking the other end.

“Well, well, well if it isn't Kim Taehyung” one of the men begin.

“wheres the rest of your gang?” One of the men speaks up.

“You know what will happen if you kill me” sneers Taehyung bravely, while Jimin and Jungkook watch helplessly.

“We’re not afraid of you or your family” one of them bites out angrily.

Jungkooks body seizes in fear as Jungkook notices them reaching for their gun. Taehyung looks around frantically for an escape but he doesn't seem afraid while Jimin and Jungkook are trembling with fear.

“You should be” a voice interjects threateningly. Jungkook flinches as he hears a gun being unloaded and the thud of the bullets hitting someone, he opens his eyes to see a woman and a man with red hair brawling with the three of the guys at the entrance of the alleyway meanwhile the other three are bleeding profusely or dead. Jimin nor Jungkook is sure what's going on but Taehyung looks relieved as Jungkook is tugging on his shoulder to run and he turns to Jungkook.

"it's okay they're here to help us" he says reassuringly.

Jimin and Jungkook exchange confused glances as they look at the commotion. Jungkook notices the women get kicked in the side and he immediately feels the gut-wrenching pain in his side as well, making him double over in pain. Jimin reaches over to check on Jungkook and he notices Taehyung's eyes widen in surprise as he declares "she's your soulmate…." Jungkook's eyes find hers as she smashes the last guy's face into the wall, surely killing him. Their eyes connect as she looks at him coldly, Jungkook feels as if the world around them has faded and he suddenly feels safe. He lets his eyes roam her face and she is mesmerizing, to say the least. He can see her examining his face and he can’t help but stand taller, as he notices her lips twitch slightly in adoration. The look disappears in a flash as her face settles into a stoic mask.

"What the fuck" Jimin exclaims loudly vocalizing Jungkook's exact thoughts.

"Tae, are you okay?" She questions softly, walking over to Taehyung and embracing him tightly. Jungkook stares in awe of her and he notices the slightly purple bruise donning her skin and remembers the punch he felt earlier.

"I'm fine, don't worry, thank God you came when you did, who knows what would have happened," Taehyung confesses glumly, returning the embrace while the man she came with walks over, giving her a nod.

"What's going on? Tae please what the actual fuck is going on?" Jimin demands staring Taehyung down threateningly, Taehyung sighs tiredly and the mysterious woman stiffens at the sight of them as if she just remembered that Jimin and Jungkook are there too.

"Uh well, I can explain-" Taehyung begins as the mysterious yet captivating woman cuts him off.

"Probably not the best to do it here," she says gesturing to the bleeding men on the alley floor.

"The car is waiting, let's go." She turns back towards the end she came from.

"All of us" she calls to all of them, sighing and walking towards the car at the end of the alley. Taehyung sighs again gesturing for Jimin and Jungkook to follow and Jimin gives Jungkook a look of confusion as they follow.

They all climb into the back of the car after she gets in the driver's seat and Taehyung in the passenger seat. The silence in the car is suffocating but everyone is too preoccupied in their own thoughts to break it and Jungkook is too confused to say anything. His confusion quickly turns to bewilderment as he sees the mansion they're pulling up to, it looks like it's plucked straight out of a fairy tale with armed guards and a lot of them. The car pulls up to the door and as she puts it in park everyone climbs out and heads for the front door followed by her.

"Let's talk in the office" she suggests walking towards the way to the study and they follow her through a set of double doors revealing a mahogany desk with a leather chair along with more seats accompanying. She pours two drinks, holding it out to Jimin and Jungkook.

"you're going to need it, trust me" she affirms.

"Thanks," Jungkook says and Jimin nods in appreciation, taking a swig of the drink, cringing at the taste.

"I'm not sure where to start but my family is loaded but the money wasn't acquired legally per se" Taehyung explains hesitantly as he was about to continue she cuts him off.

"Hold on, let us start with introductions first? Then we can explain ourselves and discuss the solution to this predicament we find ourselves in" she suggests taking a drink.

"plus strictly a need to know basis, nothing more nothing less" she explains sternly giving Taehyung a knowing look causing him to frown.

"My name is Kim Y/N obviously, I'm his younger sister and who might you be?" She enquires politely. Jungkook wants to test out her name on his tongue, pretty name for a pretty girl and he cringes at the cliche but she is truly mesmerizing. He was so caught up in openly staring at her that he didn't realize that neither of them had answered her questions, he cleared his throat hoping to steady his shaking voice and thoughts.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook and this is Park Jimin" he answers, clearly Jimin is too scared or upset to answer for himself.

"Ah, the roommates" she replies in realisation as Jungkook continues his open gawking at her.

"Shame you had to get dragged into this but do not worry this mess will be sorted out in about a month's time and you will be free of this nightmare" her tone reassuring and almost soft.

"Thank you but I'm still not sure what's going on or how it includes us" Jungkook replies, locking eyes with her admiring her as she stands to her full height which isn't very tall but menacing nonetheless. She leans back on the desk standing in front of him and Jimin, swirling her drink, sighing in annoyance.

"It doesn't, I simply failed to predict this and didn't think to have adequate security that could withstand this kind of attack. They were after my brother to get to me and you were merely caught in the crossfire but I will have this mess taken care of soon enough. In the meantime, you all can get acquainted with my home. I will have someone fetch your things from your apartment or what's left of it-"

"Wait what!? We can't stay here! What about our class?? What about-" Jimin raises his voice in slight panic but Y/N cuts him off.

"Well if you had not cut me off I would have told you that I have called the university and told them you are unable to attend in person classes due to security reasons along with a police report they cannot dispute. So you can attend online classes." she assures before Jungkook or Jimin could interject.

"Well, you can't just lock us up here for a month" Jungkook argues, a frown marring his otherwise soft face.

"I can and I will. I mean if you'd rather die by all means please show yourself out" she waits for a beat to see if either would object. Her voice is commanding and stern; it gives Jungkook goosebumps when her gaze narrows on him. Neither of the young men dare to even breathe.

"And that's what I thought," she remarks as she finishes her drink, turning to sit at the desk and Taehyung explains further.

"Of course you have free reign over the property and you can have anything you want. By anything I mean anything, money is no issue, make yourself at home and comfortable" Jungkook stares at Taehyung in astonishment while Jimin sighs in annoyance.

"thank you for saving us" Jimin Thanks sincerely, Jungkook nodding in agreement and she returns the nod gesturing towards the door. As they get up to leave Jungkook can't help but step a bit closer to her, her perfume smells heavenly but he can't put his finger on the scent. Taehyung turns to his sister, with an amused smile noticing the distance between and how she hasn't moved away either

"I'm assuming that you're too busy to have lunch with us?" Taehyung enquires, subtly playing wingman for Jungkook.

"You have guessed correctly big brother" she replies, her face giving nothing away. Jungkook can feel her giving him a once over and it's definitely an ego boost. She notices the smile threatening to break out on his face from her being caught gawking at him and turns to fill her drink. They take that as their invitation to leave and head out the door. Jungkook hesitates for a moment to maybe stay and talk to her alone but Taehyung nudges him while shaking his head.

“You’ll get your chance,” he whispered to Jungkook reassuringly. Taehyung shuts the door behind him and sighs.

"Let's go to the kitchen and get something to eat, I bet you guys are starving. I promise I'll explain everything once we get some food, I'm starving" Taehyung leads the way to the kitchen.

Any feedback is appreciated

#Jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #mafia au #soulmate au #bts #fluff #smut #angst

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starfighter10 · 4 years

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tlou2 opinion

So I really had to share my opinion(rant) on the last of us part 2 and boy I have a lot to say. I am gonna dwell deep into this one, so bear with me if you can and want to

But before that I have to share the feelings I hold for tlou1.Back when I finished tlou1, I knew I experienced something truly magical. I was pleasantly surprised by the beautifully crafted story, the execution of the characters, the music, the gameplay , and the effort that went into shaping the journey of the game,the character arcs and bonds. You could see and experience the uniqueness and passion that went into the first project. This game immediately became a favourite of mine.

When tlou2 was announced, my expectations were skyhigh,was elated to continue Joel and Ellie's journey and how it unfolds. The bar set by the first one was exceptionally high and probably impossible to achieve, but I had trust and faith in naughty dog, thought they couldn't go wrong with this one. After experiencing tlou2 , I am speechless.... not in a good way. I have no words to express my disappointment,frustration and anger I feel right now. I don't even know where to begin.... the absolute mess of a plot, the original characters being blatantly ignored, retconned and disrespected in favour of new bland characters, the plotholes in the story, the false advertising and marketing, naughty dog's hubris, making a complete mockery of your fans who are paying money to play something but getting baited for something else. I am utterly heartbroken and angry.

The plot - the driving force of the game is over ambitious, lazy,sloppy and nihilistic. It felt forced. Naughty dog bit off more then they could chew with this one. Tlou2 could have gone several ways in terms of plot with the existing characters, yet we get the cliche revenge plotline with the character abandoning the quest altogether to realise revenge isn't the answer. This trope has been done several times before, with more finesse and better execution. The writers aim for the " Ellie breaks the cycle of the revenge" but it really fails to achieve this as she blatanly annihilates several characters,npcs along the way in quest of her revenge. The damage has been done practically speaking. According to naughty dog's logic , I should expect Nora's sister or a random npc's friend/relatives in tlou3 hunting down Ellie in their revenge quest. Also Abby's quest literally does nothing for me. This character was so poorly written, executed and shoved down our throats, I didn't have any sort of attachment or empathy for her. I simply don't care about this character.

The circumstances that lead to Joel's death was out of character as well. Since the trailer drop in 2016, I was prepared for his inevitable death. Thought he would probably go out like the badass he is, maybe sacrificing himself for Ellie/tommy. The Joel I know from tlou1, a hardened survivor who has fought tooth and nail to survive the past 20 years would NEVER end up in a situation like that. Joel was intensely alert, critical,clever and intuitive. The argument here may be that he has softened in Jackson, but I feel at this point this should be 2nd nature to him. Something that is automatic. Yet the writer's now want you to believe he is a dumbass who would trust a group of strangers, make small talk and introductions and end up in a situation like that. One of the bigger issues was the constant reinforcing that Joel wiped down the fireflies in cold blood and doomed humanity for death by robbing them of their cure for survival,Ellie believing the cure would have been a guaranteed sure shot success ..... WHY? This retcons the first one completely. The beauty of the tlou1 was it's moral ambiguity and uncertainty. We were constantly hinted that fireflies is a mess of a group whose agendas weren't clearly known, whose actions caused the sacrifice of many people for the sake of a slight possibility of a cure.They were power hungry and were cruel enough to send a 14 year old girl to her death with no remorse,consent or any proper investigation or medical research. Joel initially negotiates to find someone else, gets shut down immediately, gets his means of survival snatched and was practically marched to his death. He had no option but to wipe clean these people who planned on killing someone dear to him, for something that is uncertain or in vain. And yes this was a selfish decision on Joel's part, and that was the beauty of it. The moral ambiguity. He was right or wrong or both - open to your interpretation. BUT NOW NAUGHTY DOG WANTS TO TO ERASE ALL THAT DEVELOPMENT. The active reinforcement that Joel was a cold, ruthless murderer who killed fireflies and deprived humanity of its cure? Trying to erase the fact that he was surviving and trying to keep his dear ones safe in this cold, brutal and unforgiving postapocalyptic world. So that we sympathize with Abby and enjoy golfing the tf outa Joel?. Ellie seems like a different character in this one, but again this character is immediately pushed to a whirlwind of traumatic events right from the start of the game. I missed her spark of joy,humour and enthusiasm. The treatment of the main chatacter in her own game is utterly cruel and disappointing, and seemed unfair to me. By the end, Ellie is broken beyond repair. Though she thematically chooses to be the better person and gives up on her vengeance and hate, she still manages to be on the losing side as she ends up losing her father figure which was her closest bond, loses Dina and the kid , she doesn't have her community, her people, her fucking fingers as well. Why? So Ellie could suffer a little more and be unable to do most important thing that bonded her to Joel. Not to mention she loses her switchblade too, her mother's final memory. Surprised that ND spared her mother's letter . Feel her pain and despair. Why does Ellie get such a shitty,depressing, worthless, futile and a hopeless conclusion while Abby not only gets her revenge successfully, forms a close bond in Lev and gets to escape possibly to a fresh start. Ellie? Nah she gets to suffer alone. Her BIGGEST FEAR has become a reality by the end. The least they could do is let Ellie have some solace and calm, surrounded by her loved ones on that farm,her trying to recover from her trauma slowly but surely, it's what joel would have wished for. But no, she is left all alone, absolutely traumatized, all by herself with nothing to look forward to. Oh and tommy is whole new character in every scene. So keep your eyes peeled for various versions of tommy throughout. The character inconsistencies are ridiculous.

The gameplay, beautiful sceneries, and new characters like dina and jesse are few of the positives of game - leaning more towards Jesse. Dina felt perfect for Ellie and Jesse did manage to lighten up few of the moments. The space shuttle cutscene, the museum flashback sequence, ellie and joel's flashbacks were the only parts that remotely captures the magic and beauty of tlou1. I got emotional watching them. The space shuttle sequence hits you with the feels. Joel slaying a bloater with a machete was cinematic art. (Hot too)

Abby... the forced deuteragonist, is an utter failure of character execution. Her character was forced onto us, felt hasty and lacked real build up. She starts off on the wrong foot by killing one of the most popular characters. If ND really wanted this character to work, the only possible way would have been to play her point of view and backstory prior to her mercilessly killing and torturing a guy who just saved her life. What was ND thinking? That a few hours of her pov,forced out of the blue background story, her getting to play with dogs while ellie has no option but to attack the dogs, the abby-lev bond which is pretty much discount or the walmart version ellie and joel would be enough to side with her over ellie and joel???? The part where they force you to play as abby against ellie? It made me sick. I felt cheated and disgusted.

The false advertising to make us believe joel is alive and good? That this is an ellie and joel centric game?To tug at your heartstrings like this. A complete mockery of the fans who waited 7 years to see their favorite characters get horribly treated,retconned, disrespected and thrown under the bus in favour of new unlikable characters. Butchering the heart and soul of the last of us - Joel and Ellie's bond. The fact that these two don't even get a heart to heart before his death, that Joel dies uncertain of ellie's future, maybe thought he could not save Ellie in those final painful moments, that she had never forgiven him, Ellie never getting her closure with Joel, or really getting to tell him how much he meant to her.... all these thoughts legit made me shed tears. Broke my heart. This is how much ND wanted to honour and respect ellie and joel.

The game's conclusion is hollow, futile, worthless and depressing. And in my opinion, this is non canon. This is the only way I can cope with this unsastifying conclusion. It is immaturity I guess... but I will feel better about it.

Though I utterly despise tlou2, tlou1 will continue to remain one of my favorite pieces of work in fiction. JOEL FUCKING MILLER WILL ALWAYS BE THE BADDEST BITCH AND NOTHING WILL CHANGE THE LOVE I HAVE FOR HIM.

If someone actually read it all the way, thank you for your time and effort. Really needed to rant and let these negative emotions out.

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou spoilers #tlou #tlou2 #tlou joel #tlou ellie #my rants #ellie #joel miller #joel

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revlyncox · 3 years

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Always Becoming

The changing of the seasons reminds us of the seasons and cycles of life. We are always becoming who we are. This was written by Rev. Lyn Cox for the Spring Festival at the Washington Ethical Society (4/18/2021) and references the story of Demeter and Persephone.

We are always becoming who we are. Two weeks ago, I spoke a little about what that means for us on a community level. And community is an important part of identity. As Kenyan-born philosopher John Mbiti wrote in African Religions and Philosophy (1975) with respect to the concept of Ubuntu: “I am because we are, and since we are, therefore I am.” We are always becoming, partly because the communities of which we are a part are always becoming.

Today, I’m going to talk a little about some of the experiences that move our process of becoming in new directions. These might be things that we think of as individual experiences, yet I think they are also communal, and I think the line between individual and communal might be fuzzier than some of us were led to believe. The experiences we’ll talk a little about today are things like grief, longing, rage, curiosity, hope, and love. We will keep exploring those things our whole lives, and I’ll need to be relatively brief today, because we want to make sure to have time to celebrate life with a Baby Naming ceremony after the regular Platform.

Grieving feels especially relevant today. In the WES community, we’re grieving for some of our members, and we are particularly heartbroken for our beloveds who have lost a loved one recently due to trauma. Nationally, we’re still reeling from the anti-Asian violence that claimed eight lives in Atlanta, and then that grief was compounded by the tone of the trial of Derek Chauvin and our renewed grief for George Floyd, and then that grief was compounded by the deaths of 20-year-old Daunte Wright and 13-year-old Adam Toledo at the hands of police, and then our grief was compounded again by the deaths of eight people at a FedEx facility in Indianapolis, four of them members of the Sikh faith. The grief can be overwhelming, especially for those among us who see a reflection of close friends or family or selves in those who have died.

Grief is part of what makes us who we are. By sharing that experience of grief in community, we can bear witness to the people and the hopes that have been lost. There are some who think grief needs to be hidden, that it’s unseemly to be so human in public. Yet when the losses are so profound, how else can we honor life except to cry out.

At the Revolutionary Love online conference this weekend, grief has been a big theme. Micky ScottBey Jones and Rabbi Sharon Brous had a conversation on Thursday on just this topic, and it’s been a continuing thread on some of the other panels I’ve been able to catch. Micky ScottBey Jones spoke about grief for her mother who died of COVID and grief over mass violence and grief over what’s been lost due to health disparities and racist systems, she said, “Grief opens up our imagination and bolsters our courage.”

I think what she was saying is that when we feel and express our mourning together, the seeming impossibility of continuing with life becomes possibility. Maybe not right away. Shock and numbness might come first. But, together, we have a collective capacity that transforms us, that makes it possible to gather the energy to return to life.

Rabbi Sharon Brous responded that “public grief is an act of rebellion against the world as it is, because we are not willing to forget.” Brous noted that there are deep roots in her Jewish faith drawn from collective experiences of trauma, grief, truth-telling, and adaptation. From the transformation of Judaism from a Temple-focused culture to a diaspora culture, to survival through various pogroms, Brous remembered that there is grief woven into everything, but that doesn’t stop the existence of life and joy.

Jones went on to observe that we cycle through mourning, lamentation, truth-telling, and rebuilding. All of those things are part of the continuance of life, the re-imagining of life. We learn and we teach truth in the process of public grief. We figure out together what happens next in adapting and rebuilding because of how we form and strengthen relationships in the process of public grief.

Grief is part of who we are, it is part of our process of becoming. Grief is not all of who we are in the long run, though it might feel like our whole world in some moments. This is something that we might overlook about the story of Demeter and Persephone. Demeter’s public grief and rage, and the way her mourning brings the entire economy of her mythological world to a halt, feels true. A story where life eventually goes on -- radically different from what had come before, but it goes on -- that feels true. Persephone being called to comfort and lead the souls of the underworld, but not knowing what to say to them until she got in touch with her own grief, that feels true.

Our story this morning is about grief, but it’s not only about grief. It’s also about re-orienting ourselves and our communities. It’s about the power of love to find a solution that subverted rules of division. It’s about entering into a new way of being, even when we don’t know what that new way is going to look like in its fullness.

Grief is one thing that urges the characters in the story to continue with the process of becoming, but it’s not the only thing. Beauty and longing are also forces in the story. In some versions, Hades takes Persephone to the underworld without her consent, yet even in those versions, she finds beauty in roots and jewels and pomegranate seeds; even in those versions, she is transformed into a queen. In the version I shared this morning, Persephone chooses to follow beauty and curiosity. She continues on her journey through uncertainty. If we can stay with this version of the story for a moment, it leads me to wonder what calls us forward to become the people we can become with authenticity and ethical values.

Curiosity seems to be a powerful force for becoming. Sometimes we try things, not knowing what will happen next. That’s been what a lot of the last year has been like. Moving together through the next year will be more experimentation. We will try some things, and then try some more things. Let’s travel on that journey together in the spirit of adventure and curiosity rather than perfectionism. My hope is that our curiosity will involve open hearts as well as open minds, Let’s be curious about how the people around us are feeling, what’s lifting us up, and how we can show up for one another.

Beauty is another thing that calls us forward, and I’m grateful for the beauty of spring that is providing some comfort and counterpoint in these difficult days. For me, the progression of snowdrops to daffodils to cherry blossoms to strawberry blossoms has helped me to keep track of the days, to remember that there is a past and a future, and that more growth is ahead. The music offered today is yet more beauty, more reason to remember that we are better together, more inspiration to find centering and peace. Perhaps some of us are hanging on, awaiting the possibility of encountering the beauty of a loved one’s face in person, or the beauty of art, or the beauty of a home-grown tomato. Beauty is something that can call us forward, can motivate us to continue becoming the people we could be.

One more thing that feels relevant right now about the journey of becoming is the role of building relationships, both strengthening current relationships and being open to new ones. Last night, one of the panels of the online Revolutionary Love Conference was about Lessons Learned in Ferguson, convened by my colleague James Croft from the Ethical Society of St. Louis and three of his local St. Louis interfaith colleagues about how their community came together after the murder of Michael Brown. Koach Baruch (KB) Frazier, a Jewish activist and drummer, and the Rev. Dietra Wise Baker both spoke about moments when music brought together activists with different viewpoints and who had been through harrowing circumstances, and how their ability to come together was built on the hospitality of leaders in the interfaith community. Making a place of sanctuary in their buildings, being invited into each other’s homes, being concerned with each other’s wellbeing, all of those things made it possible to organize for change and make meaning. Rev. Erin Counihan on the same panel talked about being brand new at her congregation, and deciding to show up for an interfaith meeting, even though she didn’t know what her role would be or what the plan was or what might happen. She talked about confronting her whiteness, including the attachment to certainty that goes with whiteness, and emphasizing relationships over plans. KB Frazier added that people had to unlearn their perceptions of others with different identities and from different communities, because all people have dignity and it is important to leave stereotypes at the door when everyone is together in striving for liberation. James said that whenever nonsense is going on in St. Louis, there is already a community of people who are trained, supercharged, and ready to respond together. Something in Ferguson, something in the larger St. Louis community, something all over the world, was and is ready for change. And the way it was and is going to change, is (at least in part) about relationships.

All of this reminded me of the Washington Ethical Society and our relationship with the Washington Interfaith Network (WIN). Something that is different about building power in a coalition like WIN than working with other organizations on a particular issue is the place of relationships. There are encounters where it doesn’t seem like there is a plan, or it’s not clear what our individual roles might be, or where our preferred way to do things might not prevail. Staying in relationship anyway matters. Power is built not only in the victories, not only in the visible parts of the protests, not only in the legislative visits, but also in the trust that grows from people who show up for each other in the absence of certainty. Power is built around drum circles and kitchen tables and solving mundane problems. We as individuals and as a community are always becoming, our community of communities is always becoming, DC and its environs and all of our neighborhoods are always becoming because we are drawn forward by relationships.

The power to care for one another effectively works the same way. We have some current and recent examples of people taking care of each other within the WES community, but it’s not new. There has not been a moment since I arrived when we didn’t have a meal train or a check-in plan or greeting cards going out to someone. Grief and struggle are facts. But we don’t have to face them alone. Put aside conflict and tension and gossip and arguments about the right way to do things or the right words to use. Take care of each other and let other people take care of you. Being in a values-centered community can bring out the best because we want to be our best for each other, not because of patronizing efforts to teach or reform others. Love is what makes the whole thing work.

People are always changing. Communities are always changing. There are things we can pay attention to, things we can nurture, that move us toward becoming who we could be, who we hope to be. We pay attention to the communal experience of grief, because feeling the reality of that grief leads us to human connection, truth-telling, and the drive for a re-imagined future. We pay attention to curiosity, which leads us to be courageous when we don’t know what might happen next. We pay attention to beauty. Beauty helps us to find peace and meaning, and energizes us for the journey onward. We pay attention to relationships, because who we are always has a context. We may not be able to control the changes that accompany loss, risk, and the onward progression of seasons, but we don’t have to go through those changes alone.

We are always becoming who we are. May we join together with others in such a way that we grow into the best version of who we could be, authentically and fully ourselves while still true to our values and ready to be part of a re-imagined future.

May it be so.

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relishredshoes · 3 years

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Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello CorvusDraconis and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you so much for sitting down with us to chat.

You’re a well known and beloved figure in the SS/HG community for your many stories - including a personal favourite of mine, A chance for happiness.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name?

I have always had a fascination for the shiny things and the Northwest Coast depictions of Raven the Trickster/Creator, and, I tend to hoard (and get super protective) of my art supplies. Corvids have always been a positive sign in my life. They tend to show up when I’m feeling down and engage in funny antics in the yard. As for dragons, I’ve always had a love for them and think the Western depiction of them as dangerous beasts with no mind but for hoarding treasure and killing people only to be slain by a knight quite despicable.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Severus, actually. I see a lot of my life in his. Hardships, challenges, bullying— trying to be something better and later wondering about unwise decisions. I have a very similar dislike for dunderheads, but I do not share his inclination to denude rosebushes of their petals. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I have always preferred fantasy and sci-fi.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

I am not sure if you would call it a classic novel, but grew up on all things Tolkien (and even puzzled through the Silmarillion at the grand age of seven), and have a special place in my heart for Watership Down. While I’ve read pieces like War and Peace, Iliad, Ulysses, Pride and Prejudice, Grapes of Wrath, Moby Dick, Great Gatsby, Little Women, Catcher in the Rye, Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn, Scarlet Letter, Don Quixote, To Kill a Mockingbird, Animal Farm, Jane Eyre, Lord of the Flies, Tale of Two Cities, Heart of Darkness, Robinson Crusoe, Alice in Wonderland, Great Expectations, Odyssey, Frankenstein, Dracula, Crime and Punishment, Heart of Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island, Anne of Green Gables, Les Misérables, Peter Pan, Gulliver’s Travels, all things Jack London, 20000 Leagues, etc.— they never captured me as aptly as Anne McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern or Mercedes Lackley’s the Last Herald Mage. Though, if I were to pick classic stories I read more than once (litmus test for things I like) it would be things such as The Secret Garden, Call of the Wild, Wild Fang, The Hobbit, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and The Last Unicorn. At what age did you start writing? The moment I could pick up pencil and paper, I was writing. I had notepads full of stories I wrote as a kid. Alas, my dad found them one day when I was off to college, made fun of them, and I came home and burned every single one in mortification.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

The moment TV shows did “stupid things” to their characters. I used to write things about Beauty and the Beast (the old CBS show) when they killed off the main character, Knight Rider, Robocop, Transformers— there are probably far more that I just don’t remember now. I was writing it long before there was a fanfiction dot net or a term to even call it. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I am a shameless romantic for the beauty within and sometimes the quite literal love for a monster (not just some person who acts like a monster and changes into a better person.) The misunderstood monster is perhaps my most favourite theme, and it shows up in my stories often if not always. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I ship SessKag from Inuyasha, Lucard/Sophie from Dracula: The Series, and Loki/Hermione when I’m feeling crossover-y. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? Other than my favourite fanon that Severus lives/survives/finds a better life free of two masters and his guilt, I would say I would want Harry to wise the heck up and realise his father was a swine, his godfather was an almost successful murderer that used his own best mate to try and kill off another student, and his mother wasn’t all that hot either. I would want him to find value in himself without having to make stuff up about his “perfect” parents. Then again, I would want Vernon/Petunia to be arrested for child abuse and put in gaol, but— then the story would have been very different XD Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Sometimes quiet, sometimes music. But usually, I am best mates with Spotify.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

In the HP universe: I honestly don’t read many of them because I’m always writing my own stuff XD, but when I really feel like I need a good Ron bashing SSHG HEA, I read just about anything by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse. However, that being said, I often return to “The Sun is Often Out” by Hannah-1888 for just the right amount of angst and HEA to make me happy.

In the Inuyasha universe: A Trick of Fate by PristinelyUngifted

In the Marvel universe: Mutual Respect Sends His Regrets by moor

In the Star Trek universe: Gratified By Your Company by starfleetdream

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I go by the seat of my feathered rump, to be honest. Inspiration is a fickle, unpredictable beast, and I usually don’t know what is going to happen until it does.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Fantasy

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Chance of Happiness because it was my very first publication. It may not have been my best, but it was my first, and it very well could have been my last yet somehow wasn’t.

Looks Can Be Deceiving and One Step Forward, Two Decades Back are two epic tales that seemed to demand being written. The fact I finished them was something I think deserves a little pride.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Looks started off with me attempted to write Dramione just once. It failed. Draco demanded to be her brother of the heart, Viktor came in and said “nope she’s mine,” and no one was more surprised at the outcome of that story than me. The characters did what THEY wanted.

I learned that trying to plan a story from start to finish is useless when the characters decide what they want. The story demanded more, and I was just a conduit that typed it down. For me, at least, attempting to outline and plan is utterly useless

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

I think every story I write is personal in some way. The inspiration comes from somewhere inside, and I often have no idea what it is until I go back and read it later. I think the story wrote itself in a lot of ways, which made it easier in a way, but there are a lot of things I can’t say were from personal experience because as a high fantasy of talking gryphons and such I can only imagine it. There is no basis in real life on how any of that would go down. There is a freedom in that but also many challenges in making it real enough to identify with despite how alien and fantastic the idea is.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Dragonriders of Pern introduced sentient dragons and the idea that despite a vast difference in species there could be teamwork and love between the two as they teamed up against a greater threat.

The herald-mage books by Mercedes Lackley were also important staples in my childhood because it impressed the values of responsibility despite having powers others did not, and that people were fallible despite greatness and potential.

Gandalara Cycle by Randall Garrett and Vicki Ann Heydron: I cannot tell you how often I read this story. I had dog ears on these novels because there was so much I loved about them. It was a search for humanity when displaced in a seemingly alien world, societal clashes, and the great sha’um (the giant rideable cats) that were the main characters’ partners for life.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C Wrede: A princess rebels against her arranged marriage by running away to be a dragon princess.

All of these books had creatures in it that chose to partner with a human and be with them for life, not as lovers that you find in the more modern supernatural romance blender out there, but the ultimate friend for life— the family you choose.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Oh heck no. Hah. They have their secrets, and I have mine. Personally, I think mine are more healthy than theirs.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very.

I write for myself. Sometimes I’ll write a story for one of my betas or a sshg friend, but for the most part, I write for my own entertainment because nothing like what I write is out there. There is a lot of SSHG out there, but mine is almost always a creature feature story. I blame X-Files growing up. It tickles me that others enjoy my stories, but in the end I write to get things down and out of my head. They just so happen to entertain others as they do me.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I will often engage in A/N talk at the end of chapters, but I really don’t engage in the fandom. I loathe social media. That being said, I read every review, and while I don’t reply to everything because FF dot net is a horrible platform for messaging anymore (or ever was really)-- I appreciate every single one. Sometimes it helps to know people are enjoying the story for the story’s sake.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Get a beta, even if you are pretty good at writing. Get one because a second pair of eyes will catch things you don’t. Read your own stuff out loud. If you trip over it, your audience will too. If you stumble, so will they.

Get a beta who isn’t afraid to tell you that your shite stinks in places and you make no sense. You may want a cheerleader, but what you need is a beta. If you are super lucky, you can have both at once.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

I play computer games and sew things. I’ve sewn a lot of things lately. Scrub caps and masks for work—

There has been a lot of writer’s block lately due to the times, and I will not write when I’m uninspired. I will not force inspiration. That’s not fair to me or those unfortunate enough to share in the reading. I want to be able to go back on a story I wrote and enjoy it and not curse at myself. XD

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Sometimes certain catch phrases and things from real life friends have trickled in as a sort of Easter egg (unbeknownst to them since I don’t tell them I write fanfic). Sometimes random news stories or whatnot find their way in. Lessons of the day. Random events. Things that are too odd not to stick in my brain somehow. I can’t say I always do it on purpose, though.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

No, I have a goal this year to finish off the unfinished stories. This is made harder because Dragon and the Rose keeps adding more and more bunnies into the idea bin, and my brain wants to run with them, but I’m like NO DANGIT, I HAVE STUFF TO FINISH STILL! It’s a hard thing trying to finish what you start when so much interesting stuff pops up and waves at you like “heeeeeyyyyy I’m cool too!”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Keep writing but remember you can always be better. You can always improve. Writing isn’t a popularity contest. It isn’t about how many reviews you get or how many fans you may or may not have. Write because you want to write. Write what you like not what other people like. Write for you because in the end, you are the one who goes back to read it and say “I wrote this story, and I still love it” instead of forcing yourself to write something just because the topic is “popular” and gets a lot of visitors. Write something you’ll be proud to go back and read and enjoy. You’ll find when you write something genuinely, readers will come. And if only one person leaves you a paragraph review on how much your story meant to them out of someone else’s hundreds of “great!” (with nothing else)-- think of what you value more.

If my story helped someone through a dark time.

Just one person—

Then it was a good effort.

Maybe that person didn’t have the bravery to leave a message. Maybe they are ashamed. Maybe they send you a PM instead of a review.

That is, to me, the ultimate reason why I realised that despite writing stories for myself that there are people out there that needed to hear my story at just the right time in their life. If my story can bring a little joy to someone else, then it doesn’t matter how many reviews I have. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have thousands of reviews like “that other author.” What matters is that I told my story; someone out there read it and it spoke to them.

I love hearing from people and what they liked about my stories, but I also am glad that there are some people out there who secretly like my stories but do not feel safe enough to review.

So, I would say to the aspiring author: write for yourself but share it. You never know whose day you will make with your story. They may never tell you. They may tell you years later (happened to me!). There is a good chance that someone out there needs your story as much as you need to write it. That being said, find yourself a beta to share your journey with you. You may find a few friend in the process.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

You are quite welcome.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ss/hg #snamione #writing

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