#Like it could make HER feel worse about what happened to a non-productive degree

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

not to parasocial on main but I Am Worried About Her!

[anxresi]

Saw this comment in an unrelated Youtube video...

...And thought it applied very nicely to Chloe.

We’re supposed to think of her as being ‘privileged’ and ‘refusing to give it up’ (as Thomas Astruc unceasingly reminds us), so she’s worthy of hatred and scorn and can never be a superhero again (naturally, ‘golden boy’ Adrien is A Special Case Who Must Be Exempt). 

But when the writers are brainwashing you to behave worse and worse every episode to a truly pathetic degree, stripping you of all friends and family en route, before finally forcing you to live abroad with an abusive woman who’ll make your life nothing short of hell on Earth...

That doesn’t sound very ‘privileged’ to me. In many ways, she’s the unluckiest person on the show: shoved into a never-ending inescapable hellscape where positive character traits are discarded on a whim, hitherto unknown siblings turn up out of nowhere to steal every bit of agency from you, and each new appearance plumbs new depths in humiliation and degradation (Remember Queen Banana, everyone? In fact, I’d rather not).

Know what I think? Short of being ‘privileged’, the reason why Chloe still has so many fans that seem to grow even as the writers heap indignity upon embarrassment upon her, is because we’re not blind to her undeniable status as a writer’s punchbag. Or a Butt Monkey/Chew Toy, for all my fellow TV Tropers out there (Hi!!).

The same way Zoe is made out to be the Greatest Most Awesome Thing EVA by her shilling fellow cast members despite all evidence to the contrary (gurl, get some semblance of a personality already), we’re lectured non-stop about why ‘we should hate Chloe’ and ‘how we’re bad people for liking her and why we should feel bad now’ by the production crew. 

What they forget though, is that there are plenty of people who will ALWAYS be willing to cheer for the underdog... and what individual in the show could that word describe, apart from Chloe? Everyone in Paris hates her... no-one expects anything of her... she’s not even any good as a villain... even her own CREATOR can’t stand her (and THAT’S putting it mildly).

So, in-between ruining her character several times over, never giving her a break no matter what happens next, and even treating UNREPENTANT LIARS, CORRUPT POLITICIANS and ADULT TERRORISTS WHO TRIED TO MURDER PEOPLE far better than her, what else can I add...?

Privileged, my ass.

[raccoon-macaroon]

The Psychological Damage of Being Picked Last

I never dreamed that at age 30, I would be picked last. Again.

The last time this happened, I was in junior high, or maybe high school. As resident non-athletic chubby girl, it was to be expected. Between then and now, I had completed college, went on to complete a master's degree, found a job that I loved and even excelled at, became significantly more fit and even began teaching dance classes. I had worked hard on myself to improve in every avenue I could.

But none of that seemed to matter. And it was every bit as humiliating then as it was now.

A group of young people from my community church were getting together to play volleyball. I loathe volleyball. I was always bruised up and down my arms during the volleyball unit at school. Whether it was my own fault or the product of cheap equipment, I always ended up black, blue, and hurting.

I went anyways, because I wanted to socialize, and figured that I am in the best shape I've ever been in; if there was ever a time to give volleyball another go, it was now.

As the group gathered to begin, the man in charge appointed team captains. They took their place in front of the group. My stomach dropped. Anxiety bubbled up inside me. What was happening? Why were they doing it this way? Whenever we play other sports we always number off 1-2-1-2. Why weren't we doing that? Was it too late to leave? Would I look even worse if I quit now because I was scared of the possibility of being picked last before it even happened?

One by one, the most athletic were selected to be on teams. Then the most lean. And then I was the last one. The captain finally said my name and that was that.

I stepped into the cool sand and tried to collect myself. Why did they do that? Did that really just happen again? Doesn't anybody realize how this can make a person feel??

I played the worse volleyball I had ever played in my life, and I was never any good to begin with. I blame that on my emotional state; inside, my psyche was quickly crumbling. A friend of mine showed up late, and I begged her to swap me out.

I sat on the sidelines with others who hadn't wanted to play and tried not to cry. I cheered for my friends, but inside, I felt cold. The night ended and everyone went home.

I mulled over this experience for a couple of days, as I couldn't seem to let it go. It continued to sit in the back of my mind and sour my mood. Why did this bother me so much? It's not like this is the first time this has ever happened. I had many friends in this social group and felt generally well liked, at least by the other women. But inside I still felt like I had been socially eviscerated and left to die.

After thinking more about it, I realized, from a deep evolutionary standpoint, maybe I was.

For primitive humans, their worth was equated to what they could offer to the group to increase the chances of the group's survival; hunting ability, specialized knowledge, skill with weapons and other tools, etc. The people who had these critical skills were the most valuable. If there was only so much food to go around, preference would obviously be given to someone who could contribute more to the group than someone who couldn't.

Those who had valuable skills were deemed the most valuable. Those who did not, conversely, were deemed the least.

Obviously in today's world, we no longer need these types of skills to survive. Socially, however, these types of traits are still seen as highly desirable, to contribute to the group, or the team, if you will. Those deemed the most desirable, for whatever reason, are picked first. On the opposite end of the spectrum, those deemed the least desirable, the least skilled, the least valued, will be selected last.

All of this, logically, makes perfect sense.

Maybe somewhere back in the recesses of my mind, that was the reason this experience affected me so profoundly; the group was sized up, I was found lacking, and if this was 10,000 years early, I would be the one who would not be eating if there was no more food. I would be the one left to die, voted off the island, so to speak.

This all sounds very dramatic as I write this, and maybe it is.

But at a time when social status and standing is the currency of the day, being told you are the worst one of all hurts.

Anyone who says, "It's not that deep, it's not that big a deal, no one is actually thinking that, let it go", I get what you are saying. It shouldn't be a big deal. But if it isn't a big deal, then why are we picking teams in the first place? By picking teams, it is automatically implied that some people are more valuable, more desirable than others. I have been told, by the group, although perhaps indirectly, that I am the least desirable, the least important, and the least valuable, in one aspect or another. And that does something to a person.

"Get over it," I hear you saying. Obviously you've never been picked last.

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Expanding into my other Fandoms (I’m gonna have to take a stance) Read the whole thing please.

One of my oldest and most beloved anime is Inuyasha. As of late I have been binged watching the hell out of it as I am getting my BFF into different anime shows. We are really close to entering the Yashahime part of the series, and she asked if I planned to write fanfiction involving the one character which made me even watch the show as a 10-year-old.

Sesshomaru

The first episode I ever watched involved this aloof, entitled dog fighting his brother over the sword in their father’s grave. Specifically, it was part 3 of that whole episode series were Kagome pulled out the sword. I at the time had 3 dogs of German Sheppard/wolf hybrid, they were MASSIVE dogs, fell in love with the big white fluff that was Sesshomaru’s demon form. I use to sneak staying up and watch the show faithfully to see the goodest boy as it was only on at 11pm EST on adult swim. Which meant it was bad and I was breaking the rules, I felt like a rebel.

Now I hesitated answering that question. She has no idea of what is in Yashahime, she is being careful not to spoil it so I told her I didn’t know. Recently, to find out what the feel is for Sesshomaru content, I looked into the tag on tumblr…

OH MY GOD.

Sesshomaru’s tag is FLOODED with hate. Like every four post, there is hate, distain, and attacking happening. As someone who watches Yashahime, I quickly knew why.

Sessrin.

Even now I sigh. And I sigh HARD. I am not for, nor am I against the Sessrin train. Same for the Sesskagu train. I think both sides need to look at things on a logical prospective. I plan to do just that. I know I will get hate from the either side and maybe some support as well. But if I am going to do anything in this fandom (as I like doing ships and reader inserts) it will come up.

So, like my Kaiba post, and my Sebastian Heel post, I will use my research skills as well as my COLLEGE DEGREE WHICH HAS BOTH ART AND MEDIEVAL HISTORY labelled on it to explain why this progression in the story is normal to anti-Sessrin fans and why this isn’t a crime by story standards nor should we look at it as a crime.

AS WELL

Explain to Sessrin fans why it is so weird for non-shippers to see it play out and why so much hate formed.

As I let out another sigh, we shall begin. Let’s start at an historical prospective. (Links at the bottom).

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING! I’LL BE ABLE TO TELL!

~~

I will start with the information I can access right away.

While finding charts on the life-span of common folk in 1590’s Feudal Japan is rather difficult, Ancient.edu states that the average lifespan was about 50. To put this in perspective, the average lifespan of Europeans at the time was somewhere between 40-45 with the latter being rare. Since most of us reading are not from Japanese descent, I will through Europe in this first.

If we look at the same time frame of 1590, we are looking at most of Western Europe had now entered the age of Renaissance. According to sources from Learning Resources in association with the National Gallery of Art, marriage was not what TV drama’s from HBO or Hulu depicted. By today standards they would be a crime, as the average age for marriage of an adult female was age 14…

The reasoning behind the young marriage age had multiple factors. First being, females were considered an adult once they were menstruating. Birthing also proved to be fatal, and since the lifespan was at best 40 and 45 if they were lucky, there was really no room to wait. Also Europe at the time had became hugely focused on making sure blood lines were legitimate, meaning to ensure the girl was a virgin, the moment she was able to reproduced she was married off. Those they married were not young teenagers either. Most marriages, a man would be in their thirties, and had probably multiple wives as women died more than men when not counting the battle field.

To make matters worse for the Renaissance Lady, these marriages would leave many young males unable to marry and if their husband died in battle, well, unfortunately they were not seen as desirable. This was due to the idea of a ‘free woman’. Should the girl not have a father, brother or uncle to return to as they too died, a widow had her freedom. But that freedom came at a cost. She would be assumed to have slept around, and in many writings, such as the Canterbury Tales, where Geoffrey Chaucer writes about a Window on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land survived her five husbands and the men in her family. In short, she was made to be a slut and to be looked down upon as no man controlled her.

The point of talking about Europe is because that is something most of us Non-Asian or Japanese people consume and like to paint in large romantic brush strokes of knights and magic. Honestly, reading G.R.R.Martin Song of Ice and Fire, he uses this model as we see the Queen of Dragons, Danny start off at age thirteen shortly after she had her first menstruation.  

Now let’s look at Feudal Japan.

As stated before, the lifespan was around 50 years. In some populations, this was even shorter. Nagaoka, Hirata, Yokota and Matsu’ura’s on demographic data at the Yuigahama-minami area in Kamakura, Japan and found both male and female remains that suggested life expectancy to have ended around age 24-25. This was largely due to living conditions and public health. In areas like these, it would make the most sense to marry and repopulate quickly as the expectancy of life was half the national average at the time.

To my frustration, I could not find a clear marriage age for Japanese women at the time of the edo period. HOWEVER, where there is a will there is a way. I took a look at famous Lords or Daimyo’s of the time. The average age of marriage of their wives was between 12-14. Much younger than I expected, but it made sense considering this is a time where war ran the show and marriage was strictly about political gain. One of these Daimyo’s was Masamune Date, who was also 13, but then as he got older took concubines who became considerably younger than him as he became older. The goal was to have as many children as possible for hires and for political marriages to gain power.

Now lets look at Inuyasha the MANGA

Lets get the manga timeline proper here. The whole adventure took place in 11 months, a month shy of Kagome’s 16th birthday. Doing a few estimations, Rin would have travelled with Sesshomaru about 8-9 of those months. But before we get into the relationship, lets look at something the ANIME made a huge mistake with in the beginning and tried to fix as the story went on.

For some reason I could only fine gifs for the Early appearances of Sesshomaru so bear with me.

Early appearances in the manga

 ^ He was so fickle and a trickster then...

Now early apperances in the anime.

Later appearance in the manga

Laster appearance in the anime

Notice the issue here? 

Sesshomaru was CONSIDERABLY younger looking in the start of the manga. In the anime, he started off looking like an fully adult male. But as the anime went on, they tried to make Sesshomaru look younger with subtle changes to his jaw line, eye size, and his height. Yeah, his height had changed. They made him shorter.

While in the manga, we see this young-teen looking demon, slowly mature over 11 months to look like he is in his later teens and by series end, closer to being in his late teens or twenty. Yes, art changes over time, but the anime went a reverse route. I can only guess they spoke to the author of Inuyasha about her ships, as they did Drama CDs, and realized the mistake that was made in making him more mature than he was.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t look closer to his manga self in the final act, because he does.

Since we are on the topic of the anime, lets be clear. The anime timeline and manga timeline are very different. The story in the anime (in the English) suggests that OVER a year has past since Kagome started her journey. They try to fix this in the final act, but it was still so muddled as previous seasons are to be taken as cannon. This could have been due to an translation error in the early production when the anime no longer had anymore manga material to reference. But whatever the case, for English viewers the time the group spent together felt much longer.

So now we come to the heart of the issue.

Because of the mistakes of the anime, a lot of anti-sessrin see the relationship as father daughter. I’ll be honest, watching the anime and solely the anime as a teenager and as an adult (as the manga was on hold for a very long time due to author’s health. I was in college when it finished.), I too thought it was just a father-daughter relationship and Jaken the nanny who got punched all the time. In fact, the English took hard liberties with Kagura, as the English dubs often do with characters, and made it very clear her feelings for the demon lord and Sesshomaru very much recognized them (though he never responded). Even in her death scene, it felt as if he was saying good bye to a friend more than love interest. But who really knows, as there are things that point otherwise.  When another demon mock’s Kagura’s death, Sesshomaru gets super pissy.

The manga did also play with this fact when it came out in English, idk if the wording or message is different in the Japanese. Translation errors happen a lot even in todays releases, look at Kuroshitsuji.  So of course most anti-sessrin’s did not see this coming in Yashahime when Rin was named mother. In fact it felt like a betrayal as we were sure Sesshomaru had no romantic feelings.

Then there was the Kohaku/Rin mashup that was hinted left and right. The English anime, with its overly dramatic and blunt emotions made it appear one way. That in the end the two kids would probably be married. Then the anime as a whole made Sesshomaru older than intended. I can see why and understand how this became a problem.

On the other side of that coin.

If you followed the dub, seen ‘Swords of an Honorable Ruler’ and read the manga… Sesshomaru was not fatherly to Rin at all. In fact, Jaken picked up all of that leg work. Rin worried for Kohaku, but clearly loved Lord Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru cared about Kagura but he almost CRIED when he lost Rin.

We have to remember that Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship must have been very hard for the demon. While we never see his mental process expect for a few rare times, we have to remember he hated humans. In the movie, he blamed a human for the early death of his father, Sesshomaru killed without mercy. It made sense that he wouldn’t be fatherly to Rin as her just being there should have caused countless inner conflicts. Hell, he even says his father’s weakness was humans, and look who picked up that trait.

Sesshomaru was designed to, someday, walk in his father’s footsteps. So sess/rin, not a surprise. Also when you see it in a historical perspective, Rin having kids around age 15-16, makes sense. In fact you could argue he waited too long for the time period.

We also need to look more at the manga when concerned with Yashahime. 8-9 months is all Rin travelled with him and he was like hold up, and left her at the village because he KNEW she needed to come to her own conclusion. That no matter what she picked he would live with and protect her. Unconditional love on his end. She cannon wise spent YEARS living with humans and MONTHS with Sesshomaru. Again, by manga standards of cannon.

Now I can already hear the screaming about age and what not. Some sources say Sesshomaru is over 900, by the rule of thumb, if we look at anime and movie releases, we have Sesshomaru being over 500 with no define age and Inuyasha around 270 years old being more pinpointed due to the movie. Just by going by ANIME CANNON. Kagome and Inuyasha, you have a 15 year old with a 270 year old man. If you say being pinned to the tree doesn’t count, then you have 220.

Also, here is something very interesting. In the episode where Inuyasha meets the unmother, he tells her, thinking it was his mom, she died when he was very small and we have flash backs later in the series of him being small running from demons. Demons clearly age much slower than humans, even half-demons. Inuyasha can be 270 but mentally and physically be 15, the same logic works for Sesshomaru, who in the manga is not much older than Inuyasha.

In the manga, there wasn’t any grooming, in the anime, there was a ton of mess-ups but no grooming.

Would this fly in todays world? HELL NO! NO, its gross, she’s a kid. Stop.

I know any fanfic I write will lean heavily on the side of father/daughter because that is what I grew up seeing on the screen. I can’t think of Rin as an adult because years of seeing her as a cheerful little girl. It’s like seeing G.O.T Arya about to have sex for the first time in season 8… I remember when she was a kid on the show. It was way to weird and I had to look away until it ended. But that’s my 2021 mentality.

But Inuyasha is not taking place in 2021. Feudal Japan is a whole other era with its own beliefs, morals and way of life. Those who understand this have nothing wrong with them. They just understand history.

Also, just to bang some nails in…

Anyone remember Bleach? Remember the MOST accepted couple was Ichigo and Rukia…. Rukia who was hundreds of years old and Ichigo who was 15… or Ichigo’s mom who was a teenager and his dad also hundreds of years old.

Most of this also boils down to Sesshomaru being a dude. As in reverse roles in animes its accepted and they don’t have the same historical context. Inuyasha is based off of historical context of Feudal Japan.

We need to stop spreading hate. We can’t accept some forms of literature because its European fantasy but bash other fantasy based literature for doing the same thing.

Sure, its weird for those who were use to seeing the father/daughter dynamic. Yes, there are extreme sessrin fans who post really questionable illegal content when they decide to leave Rin as an 8-year-old…

But this wasn’t ever meant to be perverted. The story was meant to make sense on a logical and historical base.

I hope everyone takes the time to read this. I love Inuyasha, I love Sesshomaru. I am just sick of seeing so many people fighting over what should be the revival of a beloved series. While yes, there is still room for sess/rin not being a thing, until it is stated otherwise, why hate each other? This fandom will only lose people by doing this. Calling people names or accusing them of illegal endorsement can hurt someone these days over social media.

Tumblr allows you to block tags. You don’t have to read anything or watch anything you don’t like. We gain nothing from attacking each other but can lose so much by doing so. Fanart, really good fan fiction, friends, ideas, sharing fond memories. Both sides have the right to feel as they feel, but no right in hurting each other.

A fandom is meant to bring people together. Not start a war…

Thank you.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajpa.20402

http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-2/essays/husbands-and-wives/#:~:text=Marriage%20not%20only%20reflected%20order,to%20ensure%20the%20bride's%20virginity.

https://www.ancient.eu/Canterbury_Tales/

https://www.ancient.eu/article/1424/daily-life-in-medieval-japan/#:~:text=Just%20as%20Japanese%20people%20today,in%20Western%20Europe%2C%20for%20example.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megohime

[mee-the-people]

True Crime Thursday: The Disappearance of Susan Cox Powell

Happy Thursday! Today I wanted to talk about something a little different and definitely of a heavier nature. One of the topics I’m interested in is true crime, and this case is one that I haven’t been able to shake since I first heard it a few years ago. The story behind poor Susan’s December 2009 disappearance is one that is full of twists and turns and so incredibly disturbing, especially when you hear about the family that she married into back in 2001…

So before I talk some aspects of this case that stuck out to me, I want to talk about who Susan was as a person based on what I’ve read in multiple articles and listened to in podcasts and documentaries. All too often, we hear WAY too much about her husband, who many think had to do with her disappearance, Josh Powell, and his wack-ass family. (that’s the nicest way I can think to describe the Powell family, excluding Jennifer, honestly) But when hearing Susan’s story, Josh and his father Steve Powell, both textbook narcissists and massive creeps (like father, like son, I suppose) are the ones that always come to the forefront of this case and Susan, the victim, seems to fade into the background.

Before I begin my rant, I’ll talk about what I’ve read about Susan as a person based on what family and friends have said. Susan was said to be outgoing, friendly, positive, hardworking and caring. She was an excellent mother to her two boys that she had with Josh, Charlie and Braden, and when she disappeared, none of her family or friends believed that she would run away with another man (abandoning her children!), no matter how much Josh and Steve alleged this on their Find Susan Powell website. (That website seems like they care about finding Susan, but it was mostly there for Steve and Josh to tear down Susan’s character. It’s one thing to hide information about a missing person, but it’s another thing entirely to bash that person’s character…smh)

She was very devoted to her faith, the Jesus Christ Church of Latter Day Saints, (the LDS Church) and she was also known to keep personal diaries since she was 8 to document her thoughts and feelings. As someone that enjoys writing and keeps a personal diary myself, I can relate to Susan in that way, and it makes her seem more human to me. She also loved hair and nails and went to cosmetology school around the time she met Josh in 2000. Now that we know a little about Susan in a real way rather than abstractly seeing her as a victim of domestic violence and missing person, let’s jump in to some things about her story that I haven’t been able to shake off to this day:

1. I’m not trying to put blame on anyone, especially after the fact, but it is well known that Susan used to rant about Josh and Steve with her friends. Things were so bad in the Powell household, that Josh was starving his kids. Starving! Let that sink in for a minute. The reason he did this is because he claimed that “they’re going to poop it out anyway.” Which, first of all, that’s not how food works. And second of all, I didn’t see any news articles about this case talking about JOSH starving himself for this reason…so when Susan told her friends about how Josh was STARVING Charlie and Braden to the point where she had to ask her friends to borrow some hot dogs, why didn’t her friends call the police at that point? I’m not saying her friends were bad friends, but there was definitely some negligence on their part.

2. Back in August 2011, when investigators were doing a search of Steve Powell’s house to get a hold of Susan’s journals for potential clues, the investigators were aghast to find cp (censoring because I’m not comfortable even typing that word, especially on a public space) on his laptop as well as Susan’s used sanitary products. Of course, they arrested him on voyeurism charges for being a massive creep, a peeping Tom who also happened to be obsessed with his daughter-in-law. (I don’t want to go into too much detail, because it’s too disgusting. Long story short, this guy is a piece of shit.) But it gets worse, if that’s even possible with the Powell family: In February 2012, (when Josh killed himself and his boys during a supervised visitation) Josh was found to have [that word] on his laptop; the only reason he wasn’t arrested for this was because the images on his laptop were cartoon characters and not real people… which completely blows my mind!

3. And finally, the 911 call on February 5, 2012 when the social worker, Elizabeth Griffin- Hall, told the operator about a potential dangerous situation after Josh slammed the door shut in her face. I don’t know about anyone else, but that had to be one of the worst 911 calls EVER. It’s infuriating just listening to a sample of the call, let alone the whole call. The 911 operator was so caught up on the smallest of details and claimed something like, “we cater to REAL emergencies” …as if the man who has been the ONLY suspect in the widely publicized Susan Powell case having his sons in the house without government supervision is perfectly normal and NOT potentially dangerous! What the hell?!

After Josh blew up the house, killing himself and his sons, many people were convinced that if a man could kill his own children, he has what it takes to kill his wife and the mother of his children. I think one of the most heartbreaking parts of this saga is that Charlie and Braden actually survived the hatchet blows from their father before the fire, according to autopsy results; it was the fire that killed them in the end. Two adorable, innocent lives who were loved by their mother, Jennifer, and the Cox family. Two adorable, innocent lives who will never get to experience any more birthdays, Christmases, family vacations or any first times, like first day of high school and/or college, first dates and falling in love. Cases involving children being harmed always break my heart, because they’re so innocent and some of our most vulnerable population- anyone that can take advantage of and/or harm a child are some of the sickest people out there.

Another heartbreaking aspect of this case is that back in 2008/2009, when Josh and Susan’s marriage was at rock bottom, Susan told friends and family that because Josh didn’t physically harm her, she didn’t think she was being abused. Unfortunately, Susan is not the only victim of domestic violence who thought like this. According to a statistic from the Bureau of Justice, 55% of women reported their cases of non-violent domestic violence to the police at the same rate as violent cases, which is 54%. This just goes to show that domestic violence encompasses more than just physical abuse, and it is important to be educated on the different forms of abuse.

If you or anyone you know can relate to Susan’s story, please contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or online at www.thehotline.org

And one more thing: if you have any information at all regarding the Susan Cox Powell Case, please call the West Valley City Police Department at (801) 963- 3300.

Most of the information that I have gained from the Susan Powell case is from the Cold Podcast, which I HIGHLY recommend. The investigative journalist, Dave Cawley, does an amazing job telling Susan’s story after poring through documents, journal entries, emails, police records, and the like. He tells Susan’s story with a great degree of compassion and empathy for the Cox family and Susan’s friends, who have lost a daughter, a sister, a friend. He interviews the lead detective on the case, Ellis Maxwell, throughout the podcast and takes us on a journey through never-before seen details about the case. This is my first time writing about true crime, but I hope I was able to do this (incredibly sad) case justice in what little way I could.

[isolctions]

...........so let’s finally talk abt what the actual fucking fuck is wrong with ai’rina rue castillo, huh gang? :-)

(everyone go thank @armsdealing & @durcgs beating the anxiety out of me in order to post this info-dump.)

...before we get into things, now’s the part where i establish a warning for triggers to be discussed in this lengthy headcanon post. there’s gonna be some talks of mental illness, slight alcohol abuse, & breaking down topics of familial abuse, mental abuse, religious abuse, emotional manipulation, and elements of non-con. be warned.

a’ight, so look. i’ve hinted in between threads & development that rue had a not-so-fantastic upbringing that impacted how she perceives herself, how she interacts with others, (in terms of her career, at least) and how she views personal relationships, but i didn’t realize how........severely her upbringing messed with her mental health until i started working through how i wanted to plot out rue’s behavior for her next album release. at first, i had the idea that she decided to take more time for herself & sort of distance herself from the public / media circus plaguing her life so that she can create much more authentic music. then i actually listened to the EP that i’m basing her album off of and thought “...oh.” THEN, i looked over old meme responses & old threads / mentions of her family and how she grew up and thought, not for the last time since piecing everything together: “....oh. oh fucking boy.”

so, that horrible realization dawning on me, let’s talk about rue’s childhood.

i wrote a thing like, two years ago almost (that upon looking for last night, i realized i didn’t actually share it w/ anyone but alex in our discord server & only mentioned a portion of it in rue’s moodboard that i made) that talked vaguely about how rue felt growing up. and it’s worth noting that...she’s the middle of ten fucking siblings. and that’s just the brothers & sisters she knew of that stayed with their mother. and on top of that, not all of those siblings are the product of rue’s father, or even rue’s mother for that matter. and it’s also worth noting that rue not only grew up in poverty, but she grew up never having any actual space that had solely been her own, or even an article of clothing that had belonged entirely to her. so naturally, as a young child, rue sort of became torn between starved for attention & wanting someone to pay attention to her (whether that be her older siblings including her in something, whatever teacher they had for the next six months to call on her for something, for her mother to miraculously show up with her unknown father in tow one day, & for literally anyone to be her friend, pls god Notice her!!!) and for people to simply leave her the hell alone. obviously, this carried into adulthood.

and branching off from the whole “lack of space” point i made, rue wound up growing up to become increasingly more private as time went on because she literally cannot remember a single moment where she wasn’t squished between a bunch of people. driving around in their minivan? rue’s packed in the middle of the second row. nowhere to sleep while on the road? rue’s smacked between gigantic older brothers & clingy little siblings. need to use to bathroom? lmao, she better off going outside!!! gotta change clothes? yeah, good luck with that. it was to the point where, when rue got her first period, she was humiliated by it — not because ‘omg, am i a woman now?? wtf is this???’, but because she ruined the one good sheet that she slept on with her sisters & they were super pissed at her and her mother withheld pay from her for weeks. >:/

already, rue grew up never having shit to herself until the record deal. but she also dealt with literally...so much abuse from her mother. rue thought this was the norm growing up, because all of her siblings faced their mother’s wrath at some point & all of them eventually learned to just deal with the shit and do what she says if they wanted to avoid it. they all compartmentalized and repressed to varying degrees. there’s a lot in which rue has repressed so deeply, she doesn’t even remember if it seriously happened or if she was just making it up bc it was so fucking bizarre for a parent to act that way towards their child, lol?? (and this behavior of “i’m just going to do what you say bc i don’t want to deal with whatever bullshit you’re up to if i say no” also carried into business / personal relationships, which is...very Yikes it’s amazing she didn’t get scammed or worse!) 

so sure, people have complimented her for her exceptional manners & her cleanliness & how quiet / polite she is & how amazing her posture is, bc seriously, this girl will never experience back problems in her life bc her posture is so on par. but where rue typically smiles / responds bashfully, she can’t exactly just up and say: “oh, yeah, my mom used to slap the shit out of me ‘til i bruised if i spoke out of turn or talked back, and if i reached for anything in the store or put my elbows on the table she’d slap a ruler against my palms ‘til i got welts, and she’d make me read verses all night without sleep if i did anything wrong and make me straighten up and kneel on rice if i slouched or took a nap in church and humiliated me in public if i so much as looked at someone of the opposite sex on the street n oh, did i mention i also cleaned houses for rich millionaire snobs from ages twelve to sixteen and if they said or did literally anything to me i wasn’t allowed to defend myself?? ya i’m real proper :)”

(and normal ppl will go: “...................what the FUCK is WRONG with you????”)

but oh man, babe, we’re not done yet!!! rue, being the product of both a highly religious and a highly exploitative household...had difficulty when she started reaching puberty & noticing her classmates. plural, because it wasn’t just boys that she began to secretly have crushes on / fantasize abt, sexually or domestically. she also realized, oh shit, that she started looking at girls differently too. and that literally put the fear of god into her heart, bc if her mother ever found out that she was having non-platonic feelings for the girls in her classrooms, she wasn’t going to be pissed. her mom might have actually tried to kill her. or have her exorcised or something. she knew the shit would be severe, and she wanted no fucking parts of her mother or her siblings inserting the church into her personal life, thank u very much! so rue started suppressing her romantic feelings for people to the point where if adult rue receives intimacy, she’s like “...is this allowed? is this not illegal??????” while simultaneously being like “i will be a slut. just this once. as a Treat to teenage me. :>” regardless, rue learned to molotov cocktail literally any emotion or thought she had, bc she was paranoid that it would give her mother a vision.

now, onto the perils of exploitation...she should’ve been used to it really, what with her mother forcing herself & siblings to lure customers into their shop with promises of visions and palm readings and the wonders of the cards and overexerting their abilities. same with housekeeping, like being of service to people was normal! but when seventeen year old rue decided to sign a record deal and break from home, she wasn’t thinking critically about what the fuck all of this would entail. and as described in this headcanon post abt her discography, her early music was the product of allowing people much older & powerful than you to influence your work & manipulate your values. so rue was very much parading around as someone she wasn’t, someone much more confident and badass and self-assured than she really was, and she was so impressionable back then that it literally makes her sick to think back on it now. she calls it her puppy phase and phrases the eagerness to please execs as ‘tongue wagging’. homegirl hardly even knew her name anymore, bc all she was and all she would ever be was rue, the star, the vocal temptress. not ai’rina, the help or ai’rina, the seer, ai’rina, the weak little nobody. but later on, the subtle manipulation was less about decision making & how they wanted her to sound, and more about how they wanted to present the latest trophy star — because after all, she was pretty. people liked her. she sung really well. suitors weren’t too far off into the distant future. so why not kill two birds with one stone by having a high ranking label artist keep tabloids talking by being seen in public with a few heart throbs? surely, there’s no harm in manipulating an eighteen/nineteen year old’s love life! under the guise of improving her social skills & relations with fellow artists and the media and the like, rue gave into the pressures and let herself be taken out on dates & seen at awards shows with a few guys. no big deal. it was only for a night or so, she could handle the attention. then, one night appearances turned into week long appearances. pretending to date for only a month! completely innocent, positive exposure. :)

(adult rue, looking back @ younger rue: you stupid fucking BITCH-)

yeah, so once her label/management realized that she was turning into a hot commodity, they lost no sleep at allowing their nineteen year old artist to be seen ‘dating’ 20-24+ year old men occasionally. and whatever happened after their public appearances were none of their business. plus, she was good at pretending and being arm candy — so rue experienced her first kiss, her first dates, and her first times with people who she’s almost certain hardly remember their time with her, and really only got involved with her for a mutual career boost. very few of them does she actually remember in a positive light, and the ones that were positive, still depress her bc lmao all of it was fake, even if they were really nice & made it less like a chore and more like they actually wanted to be with her!! even fewer of them were actual relationships. meaning, said person asked her out of their own volition, not bc their managers thought it’d be a decent match on camera. it was evil, really, what her old label made of her. (like, she makes funny jokes that her first time having sex was awkward bc she had a vision halfway through that bummed her out but in reality it was just...really more of a transaction that made her feel icky n progressively worse abt herself until it happened more often and now she just doesn’t care anymore. sex is just sex, u know?? everything’s fake. why you gotta make it personal.) this whole fiasco took over the larger part of rue’s career from like, age nineteen to age twenty-two or so, and she suffered dramatically from this because what is even a genuine, authentic relationship at this point? what do u mean you want to get to know me? did ur manager tell you to ask so many damn questions & try to get to know me? obviously you want something from me bc that’s why everyone gets into a relationship or has sex with me, stop confessing feelings for me u fucking loser. >:/

like...rue doesn’t even have friends. outside of her relationship with marcelo / @armsdealing​ (which, AGAIN, i think was initially arranged to promote her song be honest, how fucking IRONIC), rue does not have any personal relationships with anyone. i mean, she likes her latest management team since switching labels...her hair stylist is rly cool & her make up artist is fun to vacation with...she met a few other celebrities at events that she occasionally texts & has dinner with...yeah, she’s basically a pretty hermit. her family is more or less out of the question — the few brothers & sisters she does still have a positive relationship with (like, four of them lol), they don’t see each other in person often / mainly communicate via groupchat and facetime calls when all of them have time. she tried visiting with her mother over the years, but the verbal & emotional abuse/curses placed on her/accusations of being an imp of satan for singing to the public/memories of being forced to perform psychic shows & clean for chump change keeps her from trying to mend that relationship. like, being gaslit by ur mother isn’t really the vibe, u know? and bottom line, rue simply is a very shy and socially stunted individual who does not know how to communicate like a normal human being anymore. hell, her life revolves around pretending for strangers at this point!

now, onto how...all of That ties into her behavior / state of mind during this next album. so, after riding the wave of success from her third album & the circus that came with that. rue sort of had a fucking existential crisis. came out of absolutely nowhere. (not nowhere — one of her brothers called her out of the blue and called her ai’rina and she literally went “who the fuck is that?”) told her label that she was taking some time in between albums bc she was creatively zapped or whatever bullshit excuse she came up with that somehow worked bc this new label was a little more understanding than the last. vacationed for a little, did some hot girl shit, bought a house, tried to see her mother again for whatever reason then got the shit slapped out of her and finally screamed at her to never touch her again unless she wanted to Throw Hands. cried and got drunk abt it. that took six months. bullshat to her label again, dropped like two songs to smooth things over, decided to focus on magic for a little to ground her, started partying with label mates then going home shitfaced & hungover every other morning. that took eight months. dropped one last song, promptly deleted her twitter, tried to write songs again, got a call from her mother and panicked and got drunk. that took a year. vacationed some more, got even drunker, was bed ridden for like three months because holy shit i’m having so many visions and if i see One More Thing my brain is going to explode, couldn’t separate the present from the future for weeks after that, told absolutely no one about that, cried every day & had an identity crisis, dyed her hair to appease the identity crisis goblins. that took a year and a half.

now, she just chilling. dyed her hair again. scaring her siblings halfway to death bc she keeps going on benders & sending cryptic texts abt the visions she’s getting but they’re so incomprehensible that they’re seriously considering moving in to get her fucking shit together. had a vision that she was married with kids and had a two week identity crisis appeased only by moving houses. (she was in a neighborhood with families...too much Drama and visions. turned into a really cool song tho.) started calling herself by her birth name of ai’rina in private. reactivated twitter to send cryptic tweets that her album is coming. working on said album. trying to drink less but kinda failing bc how is one simply supposed to make a highly personal dual album without alcohol??? prbly somewhere crying in marcelo’s lap or smthn. just vibes.

like...i feel like, in my head, the Theme of her project is wrapped up in identity. her relationship with fame and whatnot. trying to coax her childhood self out of its’ shell so that she can function like a normal goddamn person for once and re-establish her values. like, if someone went to any of rue’s residences right now, it’s just songbooks everywhere and wine glasses and her crystals and shit, bc she still has people’s futures to read for money. (yes, she never really got out of that portion of her childhood, but hey it pays.) it was all very confusing to experience at once while in bed at four in the morning & even though i tried organizing and debated on this, it’s still a Lot. which is why i am once again asking for plots that would allow her to dissect all these Things

so yeah. album four otw, with a side of confronting our childhood & facing our traumas!

[mi6-cafe]

THESE ARE THE FINAL LDWS DRABBLES!

For the finale, we asked our competitors to write exactly 400 words in which they had to use the phrase “we aim to please”.

The did an excellent job so come read and vote and help us decide THE ONE DRABBLE WRITER TO RULE THEM ALL...

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Choose three that you like the most.

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The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

#1

Title: Live to Serve Author: sorion Warnings: alludes to the current political climate in the US (and to a lesser degree the UK) Summary: Bond completes objectives. How he completes them is up to him.

Bond barely batted an eye when his solitary corner of the bar he'd chosen was invaded by another patron with his own drink.

"Felix," he greeted him.

"James. What a surprise."

Bond's smirk widened. "Tell the truth. You knew I was in the States the moment I set foot on the ground."

Felix's lip twitched sardonically. "When you got on the plane to come here."

Bond chuckled.

"I've learned that it pays to keep track of your movements." He tilted his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Just in case."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't do the same thing with you."

They grinned at each other wordlessly and returned to their drinks.

"So," Felix interrupted their companionable silence. "What brings you here?"

"Is that American for, 'What havoc can I expect you to wreak on my home turf'?"

Felix pretended to consider that. "Sounds about right."

Bond's amused eyes wandered to the muted news on the television in the corner of the bar and darkened. "Not as much havoc as I'd like to wreak."

Felix followed his line of sight. "Tell me about it," he agreed. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and added in a chatty tone, "What's your people's stance on overthrowing foreign governments, these days?"

Bond, fortunately, wasn't swallowing at that moment, or he would have choked on it. It still took all his not inconsiderable self-restraint to not laugh out loud. "Overthrowing governments of allies is sadly frowned upon." He pondered that for a second. "Yours?"

"Same." He leaned closer. "Any orders to such an effect, regardless?" he asked carefully.

Bond shook his head. "More's the pity. I live to serve, and I serve by completing objectives." He squinted at Felix. "How I complete them is my prerogative, however."

Felix nodded slowly, indicating that he was operating similarly.

"What I'd like to do," Bond continued, his lethal eyes on the news, "would be like trying to put out a fire with nitro-glycerine, so I was thinking something more subtle."

"Mhm..." Felix hummed, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Subtle is not quite your thing."

Bond's shark-like smile was all teeth. "I know a guy..."

"Smart, dark-haired, gorgeous, can kill from his bed in his pyjamas?" Felix guessed.

They shared a look like two bloodhounds catching a scent.

Felix held out his hand.

Bond took it.

"We live to serve. We aim to please."

#2

Title: An Assist Author: Anyawen Warnings: Summary: Bond learns that he's been equipped with an unlooked-for advantage.

Bond paused, studying the bullet he was loading into his spare clip. There were scratches on the base of the casing. That was decidedly odd. Q would never send out ammunition with any sort of flaw that could impair its use, or worse, damage the gun — or the agent using it. He ran a finger over the base but couldn't detect the scratches. Turning it in his hands he looked again. Definitely there. And, he checked, also on all the other bullets in the clip. The chance of a bad bullet from Q-branch was staggeringly small, but not zero. The chance of an entire bad batch escaping notice, however, could be measured in negative numbers. If Q sent these bullets out into the field, then these marks were meant to be there. There must be a reason for them. There was something niggling at him. He’d seen this pattern of scratches before. He glanced over at his Walther. Picking it up he peered at it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. Ah. There it was. On the back of the trigger was a faint glimmer of markings. ... .||. .|.. .| |.|. . .|. .  ... | ..| |.. . || ..| ... It took him a minute to recognize that the lines were dashes among a smattering of dots. After that realization the letters came easily. "placere studemus" Translating the Latin took slightly longer. A moment later he tapped his ear and heard the faint ambient sounds of Q-branch through the earwig. "Do you require assistance, 007?" Q asked. "Interesting numbers in your annual report." "Focus on the mission, Bond. We can discuss—  " "Decreased stray bullet injuries on ops over the last year, but no noticeable increase in range scores," Bond continued, speaking over Q. "True." "We're hitting our targets more often without actually being better shots." "An impressive feat." "Very. I've not seen magic like it since my gran passed." "I- What?" "She was a hedge witch." "Oh. Are you ..." "No," Bond replied as he finished loading the clip. "Can't sense or cast magic. Recognized the marks as spellwork, though. Nice work. You're some sort of technomage?" "Something like that." "And the spell?" "Merely an assist." "An effective one." "Thank you." "Just one thing, Q." "Yes?" "Is that phrase really the best anchor you could come up with?" "Well. You can't deny it's apropos. After all, 'we aim to please.'”

#3

Title: Marketing Research Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: sex? Summary: Bond discovers what Q Branch has been working on lately

“Well, well, Quinn.”

As Bond dropped the gunmetal grey box next to his laptop, Q felt a cold shudder spill down his spine. There were still a few secrets he’d managed to keep from his lover, though apparently he now had one less. “You should never have been able to access that part of the lab.”

“Mmm, so I was informed. Top Secret. I had to be quite persuasive. An interesting project though, Quinn.”

Q fought down a surge of jealousy at the thought of what that persuasion might have been. “You know that’s not my real name, it’s just a joke amongst the techs.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Dammit, James, you were snooping! This prototype was meant to be a birthday surprise.”

“It’s certainly surprising.” Bond’s finger traced the embossed lettering lovingly. “And not at all an exploding pen, which I was rather expecting. However did you get this past the projects committee?”

Q sighed. “Given the proclivities of double-ohs, it was an easy sell as a test product. A quite unexpected way to deliver drugs or implant trackers, should the need arise.”

“The box is a bit of a giveaway, though, don’t you think? The logo is literally a Q with a tree branch entwined.”

“That’s not the final packaging! They were just having a bit of a joke!”

Bond raised an eyebrow as he opened the box, stroking a finger delicately over the contents. Q felt a twitch of reluctant arousal as he watched those so very precise fingertips linger on certain details.

“So delightfully unexpected, Q,” James purred as he picked up the creamy vellum card inside. “‘Quinn’tessential Ecstasies,” he read aloud. “Is all of Q Branch so prone to puns and in-jokes?” He smirked and dropped the card back into the box. “But don’t you think ‘We Aim To Please’ is a bit on the nose for a gun-shaped dildo?” James chuckled, picking it up and fondling it in a way that made Q’s trousers just a little more snug.

Q glared. “As if subtlety is your strong suit.”

James laughed wickedly. “I’m quite impressed with the trigger-activated vibrations. Whatever made you think of this?”

“It seemed natural, since an exploding pen is out of the question in the bedroom, and you do have a rather unhealthy attachment to your Walther.”

“It needs testing. And since you present such a tempting target, Q…”

#4

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: On an undercover mission, Bond considers the merits of murdering customers.

“Is the hazelnut syrup sugar-free?”

Bond bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Only the cinnamon and vanilla syrups are sugar-free.”

It wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but this had been going on for five minutes. Or maybe three. It felt like five hours.

First, it had been “what’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?” Which… fair enough. He’d had to quickly remember his crash course in coffee-making to bullshit an explanation without saying “the flat white is cheaper but costs more.”

Then, it was “why does the oat milk have a surcharge but the soy milk doesn’t?” prompting a lesson in the economics of non-dairy milk alternatives all the while considering drowning his customer in said soy milk.

So: not the stupidest question in the world, but quite possibly the stupidest customer.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

Seriously?

“Was that with soy milk?”

“Oh no, just regular milk’s fine.”

How was this his life?!

“Syrup?”

“No, thanks.”

He could feel his molars grinding with the force of his fake smile. Five minutes! For nothing!

“And what name is it?”

“Karen.”

Of course it was.

He had been stuck in this god-forsaken job for three weeks, and was seriously weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ causing an explosion. Things like that happened, right? He could probably get away with it

“No, you can’t kill her.”

Bond stifled a groan. Bad enough that he was stuck undercover as a bloody barista in Canada, without having Q in his ear all day judging his latte art and thwarting his murder plans. It turned out the Quartermaster was the bloody customer service police.

“I would never,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The last thing he needed was for his temporary “colleagues” to overhear him talking to thin air.

“Of course not. Just like you’d never feed your gun to a komodo dragon.”

“You know damned well that was an accident,” he whispered, sprinkling cocoa powder through a bloody maple leaf stencil. “How much longer, Q?”

Q just hummed apologetically.

Straightening his shoulders and pasting another ‘friendly’ smile on his face, Bond handed over the drink.

“Well, at least you’re generous with the cocoa.”

“Fuck you, Karen.”

“We aim to please. Enjoy your drink.”

Bond wondered whether he could talk Q into blowing the place up after all.

#5

Title: Distraction Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: paranoia can be a healthy attitude around some people

As a rule, Q always was rather suspicious of quiet - whether that was a side effect of working in espionage or just his nature, he wasn't particularly sure but he knew better than wasting too much brainpower on such considerations. Besides, a healthy dose of paranoia always paid off if the feeling was carefully kept on a leash. Hand going to grab his taser, Q entered the bedroom and his eyes immediately zeroed in on his lovers "What are you doing?" "Who - us?" James inquired with a shiteating grin, dramatically pointing at his own chest "Man of little faith" Q gestured at Raoul, lounging against the bed post "At least he has the decency to not try to fool me" he pointed out as he relaxed in increments, tension gradually leaving his body as he made his way to the bed to sit at its foot "So?" "What makes you think we are up to anything?" The younger man batted James' hand away from his calf "You always are up to something when you're quiet: it's not like either of you" Raoul's chuckle was satiny and dark - if Q hadn't found it ridiculous to compare a sound to food, his mind would have probably come up with some kind of stupid similitude involving a rich, dark chocolate cake "We aim to please, mi querido" "That awfully sounds like an admission of guilt" "Maybe" Raoul leaned over, finger tapping the point of the other's nose just to see the way it would scrunch up at the bothersome gesture "But who says I feel guilty about any of it?" Taking advantage of Q's distraction, their lover clearly too busy - and failing at - glaring Raoul into properly confessing, James wrapped his hand around his ankle and tugged firmly, a delighted chuckle escaping his lips at the  little shriek Q let out "Let's talk about it later" he murmured, bending down to brush their lips together "There's funnier things to do" "Just tell me the place isn't gonna get swarmed by whatever international agency might be thirsting for our heads" Raoul palmed his cheek, gently turning his head to meet his eyes "I promise" Q sighed, eyes rolling even as he reached for the nape of the other's neck while he sneaked a foot between James' legs "Fine, but don't you think you can postpone this conversation for much longer" "Wouldn't dream of it"

#6

Title: Souvenirs Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: mild BDSM themes Summary: Bond likes giving Q souvenirs of his travels.

Q examined the box squatting in the center of his desk, a cardboard enigma with a security clearance tag. The shipping label indicated it had originated from Elko, Nevada. Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The only agent recently conducting operations in the US was Bond. The joint operation between the CIA and MI6 focused on an information dealer selling military secrets from both Britain and the US. Bond had been pleased to be working with his old friend Felix Leiter. Q had been entertained by Bond and Leiter as the pair entered what Felix had described as a legal brothel.

Bond: “Only in America.” Bond's voice held a hint of astonishment. “All that neon makes my eyes water.”

Leiter: “Ah yes, one stop shopping for a certain type of client.”

Bond: “Felix. They have a gift shop. The souvenirs must be epic.”

Successful, Bond had returned and this had appeared. Q looked at the box reproachfully. Bond and his souvenirs. Being romantically involved with the man had only increased his penchant for gifting Q with odd objects. He carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps, prodding carefully at the packing peanuts. The first item was a six pack of seasonings and sauces intended for American style barbecue. Unusually practical. He resolved to investigate how to use them as he placed the jars on the shelf behind him and dug further. His fingers encountered a narrow object that flexed a bit as he removed it. He flushed with embarrassment although he was alone in the office as he withdrew a riding crop in a rather nice leather finish with the initials MHHP stamped on the handle in gold. He gave it an experimental swing, neatly sending a packing peanut flying. Digging produced a final item. He shook out the tee shirt, and read the logo that explained it all. 'Madame Helga's House of Pain, Barbecue Joint, and Rifle Range' was displayed across the front. The back had an image of an androgynous figure with a bullseye painted on it's pert derrière and the legend, 'We aim to please'. His phone pinged and he checked the text. Bond had sent a video which proved to be a short loop of the neon display at Madame Helga's featuring an animated dominatrix landing a crop in the center of the bullseye. The text accompaniment said, 'Care to provide a target, darling?'

#7

Title: Timing is Everything Author: Iambid (Flantastic) Warnings: None Summary:  James needs a new hobby.

YOU'RE EARLY AGAIN, said the Grim Reaper, with a hint of surprise.

“I am?”  James asked, sounding a lot calmer than he currently felt.

He looked around himself.  He’d been in Saudi Arabia, on the trail of an assassin, when everything had gone to hell. He’d been captured, beaten, tortured and then dumped in the middle of nowhere, somewhere south of Ash Shalfa. The last thing that he remembered was lying broken and bloody in the burning desert, baking under the merciless sun.

Now it appeared he was in a wood-panelled office, not unlike the one that M used.

Except M’s had never had a skeleton dressed in a black robe sitting at its desk.  Well. As far as James knew.

YOU KEEP DOING THIS, Death said, shuffling through the thick paper file in front of him.  Her. It.  Whatever.

“I do?”  James asked, still not entirely sure he knew what was going on.

MMMMM.  AGED TEN, FELL HEAD-FIRST OUT OF A TREE.  AGED TWENTY-ONE.  GOT INTO A FIGHT ON THE HMS ALBION, PUSHED OFF THE FLIGHT-DECK INTO THE ADRIATIC SEA. AGED FORTY-TWO, SHOT OFF A NINETY-EIGHT METRE BRIDGE BY A… Death paused, bringing the page closer to their face. They seemed to squint, which wasn’t bad going for a skull … IT SAYS A ‘FRIEND’.

“That would be Moneypenny.”  James explained.

THERE ARE COUNTLESS INCIDENTS LIKE THIS.  NEED I GO ON?

“I shouldn’t think so.”  James admitted.

COME WITH ME, Death commanded.  They rose, and floated towards the door.  James obediently followed them.  The door opened and on the other side, they found themselves in a hospital room. The occupants didn’t seem to notice.

YOU SEEM TO THINK THAT RESURRECTION IS A HOBBY.  IT ISN’T.  DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I SIMPLY CAN’T TAKE WHAT ISN’T MINE YET.

James stepped forward and saw that he was the man in the bed and the man in the chair next to him, the man pressing tearful kisses to the back of his bandaged hand, was Q.

YOU BELONG TO HIM.  HE’S WAITING FOR YOU TO LOVE HIM.  YOU’LL BE MINE ONCE YOU’VE GIVEN HIM A LONG HAPPY LIFE.

James jerked awake, his body suddenly screaming out with a hundred injuries.  He gasped but Q was there, soothing him, calming him.  He squeezed his hand and Q smiled.

“You saved me.”  He croaked.

“Smart blood.  Latest tech. We aim to please.” Q replied.

#8

Title: The Problem With Retirement Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: retirement or reunion

The diner was full of quiet little noises this late at night. Silverware clinking, a pen scratching across a booklet of crossword puzzles, tired sighs of the late-night drivers, and in the corner a booth full of a tired family. Where had it all gone wrong?

The snap of chewing gum and their waitress’s voice drew him out of his musings. “Welcome to the Georgia Peach, we aim to please. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

A long-suffering sigh blew out of the wide mouth that had been until then, pinched tight in annoyance. “Just coffee for him.”

The waitress was a behemoth of a working professional, much like Bond, and simply offered Q a wide smile, showing just a hint of gold at the edges. “And for his lordship?”

Bond answered for him. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“Okay, one coffee and hot tea for His Lordship.” She winked at Q and spun on her heel.

Q’s folded his hands under his chin and studied Bond for the minutes it took for their waitress to bring back a carafe of coffee, a mug of hot water on a saucer, and a pathetic excuse for a teabag.

Bond sipped at his coffee as he watched the disgust crawl across Q’s perfect, bony little face. He missed that face.

“Enough. Why am I here and why are you bleeding?”

“Am I bleeding?” Bond reached under his jacket, his fingers came away wet and red. “Huh, thought it was ketchup.”

“You’re supposed to be in the middle of Jamaica. Retired.”

“You could say that. I need your help. Madeline needs your help”

Q stared long and hard at Bond. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Running off with her, abandoning m...MI6 taking the car-” He broke off his tirade when Bond reached forward and laid his hand on his, blood smearing along the pale skin.

Q’s eyes focused on the blood.

“I never said WE retired together. She’s been a good neighbor, a good friend. That’s all. She still had her secrets. They found her. Whoever THEY are and she needs your help.” Bond curled his fingers under and gripped Q’s hand tightly.

Q made a weak attempt to look away. His eyes stuttered back when Bond’s finger brushed across his wrist and gave an answer Q was not expecting.

“Oh, how I missed you, Q.”

#9

Title: Improvisation Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: Turn-about is… unpleasant.

He nurses a scotch and watches the mark, Jason Abernathy, at a table in the corner.  Businessman.  Mid-40s.   On his third round, a group of beautiful people laughing at his jokes.   He’s ignoring the dance floor, despite the urging of the blonde at his table. And he’s noticed Bond watching, but hasn’t approached him. Another agent is on her way as back-up.  Perhaps she’ll be more to his taste. Bond turns the card over in his fingers  “Discreet Escorts: We aim to please!”  It’s not subtle, but it has a certain charm.  If it were just a high-end escort business, he wouldn’t be here.  But if it’s a quasi-legal front for a human trafficking ring...   “007?” R asks. Bond raises his drink to his lips.  “Hmmm?” “Change of plans.” Bond surveys the room, waiting for clarification.   It comes in the form of Q wearing skinny jeans and a tight purple shirt.   Q smiles flirtatiously and moves around Bond so his back is to the mark.  “New intel.  003 won’t be to his taste either.  We had to improvise.” “Improvise?” “Reject me,” Q whispers.  “Loudly.” Bond glances at the mark and sees his gaze fixed on Q’s arse. “You’re not what I want,” Bond shouts, pushing Q away.   One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. “Is there a problem?” Jason asks, sliding in beside Q. Q levels a dazzling smile at him.  “No problem.  My new employer sent me to a potential client, and I’m not what he wants.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.  Who’s your employer?” Q hands him a card just like Bond’s. “Oh, I am.  Shall we see how well you take our motto to heart?” Jason leads Q to the dance floor.  Bond is forced to watch them “dance” for ten minutes, until it’s really just grinding and snogging.  They pass him again on the way to the loo, and Bond feels something heavy drop into his pocket. Jason’s phone. Bond moves to the door.  “I have it.” “And the drive?” R asks. “Inserting now.” Within minutes, the data has been retrieved and Q’s bug is installed.  Bond wanders back in the bar, dismayed to see Q is still missing. “He’s fine,” R assures. Bond doesn’t like it.  He heads down the hall to the loo, placing the phone on the seat the mark vacated as he passes.  The door is locked. “Stand down, 007.” He orders another drink and waits.

#10

Title: Echoes Author: Shush_MummyWriting Warnings: None. Summary: Five + One. Bond hearing echoes.

Bond was surprised at how relaxing it was at Q’s parents’ house. It was filled with homely touches, photos of Q and his brothers through the years, plants and knick-knacks on the shelves. There was even a hand stitched frame in the downstairs bathroom that declared “In this house, we aim to please. In this room, you aim too, please!”. It felt like a home.

It was the second fitting for Bond’s latest suit. The tailor was a genius, the way he managed to conceal the gun holster. “Anything else, Mr. Bond?” he asked. “Perhaps a touch longer in the sleeve.” Bond replied. “Of course sir, we aim to please after all.” Bond smiled.

Bond was actually using his office, studying for his upcoming mission. Eve sauntered in, perched on the edge of his desk and asked, “How much do you love me?” dangling an envelope between two manicured fingers. “It depends on what that is.” said Bond, taking it. “Travel documents where I, your best friend, have managed to secure first-class tickets for your Brazil flights.” “Thank you!” said Bond, who detested long hours in cattle class. As Eve strolled out of the office, she tossed over her shoulder “We aim to please!”.

As Bond entered the R&D department, he was met with the sight of Alec, waving a brochure in the direction of Q, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Seriously Q, just have a look at these specifications. It would be an asset. And it looks awesome! Did you see the clever headline for it?” Q grabbed the brochure, exclaiming “That headline alone is reason enough NOT to buy it. What kind of company would market a rifle sight with the motto “We Aim to Please!” Seriously! Now away with you, I have work to do.” and gestured Bond forward.

Q went over each piece of equipment, saving the best for last. “This is simple, press the top three times quickly, jam it into the keyhole and step back.” Bond took it with a look of wonder “Q, you’ve made me an exploding pen!” Q’s blush was adorable as he muttered “We aim to please.”

Bond settled his breathing, sighting on his target. It should have been an impossible shot - the distance, the weather, etc but between his skill and Q's equipment, another minor government official/major crime lord met his fate. "We aim to please." Bond muttered.

#11

Title: Flirting With the Wild Cat Author: scarytheory Warnings: angst Summary: Moneypenny has a secret.

We aim to please.

There are new documents on her desk, and she's feeling sick to her stomach.

Oh yes. We do.

*

They met when she was still a field agent.

“Miss Moneypenny.”

“Miss Galore.”

It would have been a standard honeypot mission if they didn't hate each other instantly. But there was something they needed, so they flirted, got drunk and angrily fucked on the balcony. In the end, Eve got the information and Pussy Galore didn't.

It should have ended there. But sometimes Mallory needed to contact Galore again, and Eve was the best agent for it – even after she became a secretary.

Eve honestly didn't mind; she loved a challenge, and Galore gave her just that. It was always a rush of emotions, it was hatred with a twist, a complicated game – who was better, smarter, wittier. The constant battle for dominance. Which was also a basis for incredible sex.

They started spending more time together, and suddenly they were laughing and talking about their lives. They didn't even need a mission for that – whatever that was. It didn't feel like they were enemies anymore.

Eve should have known better.

She never should have trusted her.

“You betrayed me.”

“And you are surprised, Moneypenny? This is what I do, what we do – me, you, all your agents and all my people. We aim to please, Eve. We were trained for it, we were trained to be horrible people. However, it’s our bosses we’re meant to please first and foremost. We're fucked up and you know it. There is no way you could disobey an order from M and I have my duties as well.”

“I would never use you.”  

Except she already had. But that was before the laughter, before... everything.

“Honestly, did you believe that there was some miraculous happy ending for us? We are the same and yet different; a heroine and a villain. You should be glad it’s ending only in heartbreak and not with death.” She always loved big words and big speeches.

“I hate you, Galore.”

“Oh, but you don't, darling. That's the problem.”

*

And now Eve's sitting at her desk and staring at the documents. 007 got a new job. Eliminate a target who is no longer useful to them.

Yet, there is still time to warn her.

We aim to please. Until we don't.

#12

Title: A Pizza Pie Author: Ksan ( @starrboned-art​ ) Warnings: None Summary: Bond and Q are having a quiet afternoon together.

"James, that is not - stop that!" Q grabbed James' wrist before he could pour the sauce on the pizza dough.

"Q, that's how I’ve always made pizza." James gave his wrist an experimental wiggle, but the boffin was holding tight, eyes daring him to move.

"You need to oil the edges first," Q insisted, waving the brush and splashing oily drops everywhere.

James conceded, if only to not get his dark blue shirt stained.

"As you say, chef." James smirked, setting the hot pan aside. Q gave the dough a quick brush, nodding at James. "Now you can pour the sauce."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop it," Q said with a huff, but James spotted a quirk to his lips as he turned to the counter. A few plates laid ready with sliced vegetables and meats, all waiting to be added to the pizza.

"Just make sure that the champignons won't touch my side of the pizza." James scowled at the innocent white mushrooms.

Q gave him a smirk. "You are very particular about your food."

"I have a very particular taste," James countered with a suggestive smile. Q laughed, turning to put the pizza into the oven. James managed to steal a few sliced cherry tomatoes from Q's pile before he got caught.

"Go get the wine," Q said, "I'll get the glasses."

"So bossy today," James smirked, ruffling Q's curls. He escaped into the sunlit living room before Q could swat at him with a towel.

It was late noon on a Saturday, and for once none of them had any world-dooming emergencies to solve. The cats were basking in the late sun, the curtains swayed slightly as the evening breeze blew through the open windows.

James opened a red shiraz with a pop. With the wine ready on the table, he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet rustle Q made in the kitchen.

"Double-o agent, falling asleep?" Q's hand snuck around his waist, chin peeking over his shoulder.

"Before dinner?! You know agents, Q - we aim to please," James turned, kissing Q's smile. He had tomato sauce on his cheek, which James licked (to Q's astonished laughter).

"Pleasing will have to wait for later," Q purred, shoving the wine glasses at James. "What should we toast to?"

James swirled his wine, a habit born out of years of fine dining.

"To more sunny afternoons together."

#13

Title: game Author: azure7539 Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Hide and seek as usual, but it's interesting all the same. Just another day at work.

-

Nausea roils like a particularly stormy sea in the midst of a hurricane, and all he can hear is the whistling of his own breathing as his throat wheezes around air before it rattles into his ribcage and never truly fills up those burning lungs.

He’s been running for so long, he can no longer feel the screaming in his feet.

The throng of people felt like a good idea at first, a thick crowd celebrating some local holiday, but now every face seems suspicious, every pair of eyes lingering on just a tad too long. The enemies can be anywhere, can be anyone.

Vertigo dips his world as he crashes into a phone booth, thinking, assuming, he’s managed to put decent distance between him and his chasers, spare change clinking as the coins spill from his shaking hands.

Fuck. Fuck, what’s the number again…

Eight, five, three, two—

The line rings. Once. Twice.

“Hello,” a posh voice he’s never heard before picks up, nonchalant and indifferent. “Identification, please.”

“S-SPCTR-6304,” he nearly trips on his own tongue saying the words.

“One moment.” Soft typing filters through, the calmness perforating through the mad chaos in his mind. But adrenaline licks at his heels—he’s finally standing still long enough to feel the way how wracking tremors are seizing up his overtaxed muscles—and he wants to scream and vibrate out of his skin.

His instincts are shouting at him to start running again, to keep at it until he finds a trustworthy point of contact, something more than just another voice on the other side of a line.

But that’s the thing. This ‘voice on the other side of a line’ is one of his last remaining trustworthy points of contact. The rest are just… gone.

Someone shrieks from over where the people have gathered at the end of the alley, and he’s one hair’s breadth away from slamming back into the wall.

His heart is beating too fast.

“Ah, Mr Roswell. Good to hear from you again,” the person says, pleasantly. A pause. “Did you enjoy your final game?”

“What—”

“At MI6, we aim to please, after all,” the voice drops into a low baritone. Dangerous.

Like the monsters of his nightmares culminating into one singular point of existence.

The last thing he sees before life drains from him are twin pools of glacier. As blue and unreachable as the sky above.

___

You wonderful LDWS writers, you! Thank you so much for writing us these!

And thank you, readers, for reading and voting! THANK YOU!

[vixeyfoxworth]

this ain't for the best my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me.

we can't make any promises now can we, babe? but you can make me a drink

BASICS

Name: Victoria Grace Foxworth Nicknames/Alias: Vixey, Vix, occasionally Tori. She really hates being called Vicky and though she’s nice about it if it happens she does address it and ask if they not call her that. Face Claim: Emma Stone Age: Twenty-nine Gender/pronouns: Cis woman / she/her Sexuality: Pansexual. Vixey’s never really felt like she develops feelings based on gender, it’s always based on the human and their connection and character. Date/Place of Birth: June 6th / New York City Currently:  Avonnola Occupation: Actress, previously performing on Broadway

HISTORY

Childhood/Family Life: Vixey grew up in an incredibly loving and supportive home. Her father’s a veterinarian, primarily serving exotic animals, while her mother, a veterinarian primarily serving farm and domestic animals. Her father spent a few years working around the world before her parents met and then after they met they were able to do a bit of traveling thanks to his job. From day one Vixey was taught to love and care for animals always. She was raised vegetarian, using locally sourced animal products. Growing up Vixey thought her parents may push her to pursue their dreams for her but to her surprise they were fully supportive of her little girl as she pursued choir and the theatre clubs in school. From a young age Victoria loved to perform, commanding a room when she walked in without effort, sometimes due to her striking red hair, but most of the time it came naturally thanks to her personality. Due to her parent’s jobs, and her dad eventually opening his own practice, Vixey’s always lived a very comfortable life. Though Vixey was born in New York City, her parents are both from small towns in Tennessee and made sure to expose Vixey to more than just the fast paced city life.  Education: In high school Victoria was a big of a teacher’s pet. She got her undergraduate degree in theatre performance and went on to get her MFA in acting and most of the time questions if she even needs it. Accomplishments: Pursuing her dream of becoming an actress and performing on Broadway. Being nominated for a Tony Award and being nominated and winning various other drama related awards. Completing her master’s degree as that was one of the biggest headaches of her life. Regrets: Vixey isn’t very big on actively regretting things, mostly because she knows if she does she’ll dwell on things and it’ll only make her feel worse. She tends to be incredibly impulsive and can also be jealous so she doesn’t like to give herself time to think too much about actions. She certainly regrets things she’s said to people in the past, especially when she’s been upset. Secrets: tbd.

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: She’s kind, loving, empathetic, a team player, self-confident, a good listener, and very efficient when it comes to completing a task. Victoria learns fast, she’s a visual learner and loves to collaborate with others. One of her favorite things about performing on stage is that yes, it’s important to pour everything you can into your character for yourself but also for the sake of the show. Unless it’s a one woman show, you’re never truly alone on stage - and even then you’ve got a tech crew truly making you shine. Vixey’s always been very complimentary of her off stage coworkers. She’s reliable in a way but also unreliable in others. If you want someone to help you, she’s your girl, but if you want to go out on the town with someone who will stick by your side the whole night no matter what, she’s probably not because she’s been known to disappear for the night with a partner or with new friends she’s made.

Flaws/Weaknesses/Negatives: Vixey can be jealous and is often stubborn, wanting to make decisions and do things on her own terms, and it isn’t always to her benefit or the benefit of others. Though she can be patient, she tends to have a short fuse and can go off about little things, though she tries to apologize and own up to her mistakes in that regard and has gotten better. She tends to act impulsively, especially when it comes to somewhat non-life altering decisions. Vixey knows if she thinks too long about something she’ll overthink it so she tends to act without thinking. She’s working on it but it still happens.

Personality Type:

ESFP - Entertainer

Likes & Dislikes:

Vixey’s favorite color is red, she loves anything that sparkles, her music taste varies on the day, she’ll listen to almost everything. She took dance classes as a kid and kept up with them through college. She loved playing the piano as a kid and though she doesn’t play anymore she could if she had to. She loves shopping and thanks to her comfortable life has never really had to worry about treating herself every now and then. She’s not necessarily one for designer brands, unless it’s for a special event or she finds them at a discount. Vixey loved a good bargain but often comes across as materialistic thanks to her hobby. She actually doesn’t like going into designer stores, they feel more like a museum than a store to her. She likes to pick up and try things on before buying them and she doesn’t feel super comfortable doing that in those stores. She likes to be in control of a situation, she’s not necessarily bossy and she doesn’t always like to be in charge or in a leadership position but she definitely likes to be in control of her own thing. She loves plants and comfy beds and naps in the afternoon. She hates phone calls and rude comments on her instagram. 

Dreams/Ambitions:

She’s already achieved her dream of becoming an actress and she only hopes to continue that. She’d love to open her own dance studio someday to help others pursue their own dreams. She figures in another life she’d work in a bookshop or library but she isn’t so sure her own need to constantly have something to do would serve her well in a job like that.

Fears:

Abandonment or being left out. As an only child Victoria had a difficult time connecting with other kids right away until her parents finally enrolled her into a preschool program. That didn’t last long, though and it wasn’t until Vixey was in school that she finally had proper interaction. She was often left out of games early on and a lot of kids made fun of her hair, saying he looked like a fire engine but eventually she just focused on the fire part. Later when she began to date she dated.. a lot, but was either left or left before she could be left.

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Katherine and Jeff Foxworth Siblings: Victoria is an only child. Children: None, and though she may not admit it, she wouldn’t mind having a big family someday. Spouse: n/a Current Partner: tbd Ex-Partners: tbd Friends: tbd! message me for wanted connections :) Enemies: tbd! message me for wanted connections :)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 5′6″, slender, loves to wear heels to appear taller than she is, especially around men who are taller than her. Hair Colour: Red Eye Colour: Hazel Green Distinguishing Marks: Victoria has a tattoo on her left side just under her breast, two butterflies, that she got on a whim after college.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Dreams

pt. i. pt.ii. pt.iii. pt.iv.

April 15th, 2022. 13:42 AM. Los Angeles.

California sunshine, there’s nothing like it. Sure, it all beams down from the same star no matter where you are in the world. But there’s something different about the atmosphere. People don’t care here if you’re parading around in a cropped shirt that shows off more skin than you’d usually be comfortable with. They are too wrapped up in their own socially driven lives to bother you in passing unless they recognize you. Then it’s time to whip out the phone to selfie mode in hopes it gains them a few extra likes than usual. Wendy doesn’t mind, it’s only happened twice, but she’s accepted it as part of the package.

When people say Los Angeles is the city of dreams, they mean it. That’s mainly why she finds herself strolling down the busy street with boutique clothing stores galore and people riding around on skateboards, enjoying their lives however they wish to do so. The freedom to explore your dreams in the place that either makes you or breaks you being all too tempting. But, Wendy is determined to be one of the few souls that soar and reach the goal they set out to achieve when they arrived here, rather than let the city suck her dry and toss her aside as it has done to many others.

It’s been eight months since she packed up her things and moved here. Many of her friends back in Korea told her she’d regret it or that she’d be better off staying and never trying to break into the music scene in the US, but Wendy has always been a free spirit, unable to follow what could be the safe path and instead aiming for what she truly wants. That’s how she ended up in Red Velvet. She could have stayed in Canada all of those years ago, become a doctor or a lawyer, but she knew it wouldn’t have fulfilled her. 

Singing just comes naturally. Without music, she’d be a shell of a person and definitely not in the position she finds herself in today. 

After working non-stop for what feels like forever, sleeping in the studio rather than her fancy apartment she paid more for than she’d like to admit, and refusing to acknowledge the outside world, today is the day. Today, the world has been invited to listen to her first full album. Some last-minute changes to cater to Yeri suddenly backing out of appearing as a song-writer and producer were a little stressful to deal with,  but luckily her team eventually agreed to remove the song. Though, if you ask them, being subjected to the torture of a grumpy Wendy who they’d grown used to being bright and fun is something no one should have to deal with, ever.

Before every release with Red Velvet, all the girls would have their own individual ways of preparing for it and calming their nerves. However, being alone now means Wendy can no longer practice hers, which was to focus on everyone else to distract herself from her own thoughts. Thus, the impromptu walk through the blistering streets and people watching is the only thing that feels appropriate. It also stops her from worrying about no one buying it and her hard work going to waste. 

She misses four faces specifically whilst wandering. 

“Oh my god, Wendy?” A shrill voice yells from behind her but before she’s even turned a full 180 degrees, arms are around her neck and wrapping her up into a crushing hug. “It is you, it’s been so long!” 

Had it been anyone else or had she been unable to recognize the voice, it’s very possible that the random strangers passing by would have been instructed to call the police immediately. Thankfully, it’s not someone trying to attack her, well, unless you count affection as an attack, Wendy doesn’t. 

“Tiffany, hey! It’s been forever.” She chokes out, arms still around her throat, making it difficult to speak. 

No one bats an eyelid at the two girls admiring each other mere inches away from each other, though it feels like someone should be there to capture the moment, at least for fans to gush about. Wendy takes a moment to look at Tiffany. Her skin appears to be glowing more than the last time she’d caught up with her. She looks healthy… happy. It’s a breath of fresh air to see someone from her world here alongside her and not seemingly a broken shell of a person. 

“You look amazing, wow! What are you doing here?” Tiffany asks, her voice still far too loud for a conversation in the middle of a busy street, not that Wendy minds.

“I live here now.” She replies bluntly, though, her conscious reminds her for a split second that even though neither of them is in Korea anymore, Tiffany is still a senior to her. Her tone softens naturally before continuing. “I came here after… well, you know.” 

Tiffany nods in understanding, though her eyes show sadness for a split second. There’s no need for either of them to discuss the split of her group, Tiffany herself understands what it’s like to be apart from the very people you spent a huge portion of your life alongside.

“So, what are you up to?” The lack of words between them both makes Wendy blurt out, also, so Tiffany can stop looking at her so pitifully. “I’m on my way to grab a coffee if you want to join me? Catch-up?”

Though it was presented as a question and is a heat of the moment change of plans from what she was doing which was nothing, in particular, Wendy is grateful for this distraction that Tiffany has given her without knowing she has. 

In the blink of an eye, Tiffany has linked their arms together and is dragging her halfway down the street to what she assures her is by far the best place for something way better than coffee.

When they arrive outside of an organic pop-up store that only serves vegan food and uses all non-dairy products, Wendy isn’t surprised. She’s read reviews about this kind of place lately, though she’s never ventured to any of them, deciding that the hype about buckwheat tea and the likes can’t be real. However, she’s been roped into this now and has no choice but to try something once they reach the counter.

“I’ve never been here before, what do you recommend?” She aims toward Tiffany, however, it gains the attention of the young woman stood near the till waiting patiently to take their order.

“The watermelon lemonade is popular, miss.” The girl whose nametag reads Olivia responds. 

Her face is trying its best to put on a smile, though, Wendy summarizes quickly that Olivia does not have an accent that sounds like she’s from California originally, likely moved here to be an actress and just never received an opportunity to do so. Thus, she’s stuck putting on a different act, pretending to be enthusiastic about serving drinks to people that will “cleanse” them.  To put politely.

“I guess I’ll go for that then.” Both Wendy and Tiffany offer her a smile before she darts off to prepare their drinks.

Tiffany tries to pay. Wendy won’t let her. They both try their best to be stubborn about it, however, Wendy somehow wins this round and thanks the heavens that Olivia is a lot better at her job than she expected as no sooner does she leave to make their order, she returns with two recyclable cups in tow. They sit outside and drink what Wendy reluctantly admits is a delicious watermelon lemonade whilst getting re-acquainted with one another. 

Small talk is all that they engage in at first. Politely asking about each other’s families, if they’ve been up to anything special lately. Wendy doesn’t mention the album release, she’s not sure why. Tiffany tells her about how she will be on tour soon and how Wendy should come to one of her shows so they can sing together. Wendy agrees. The mood turns rather solemn when they reminisce on how young they both were when they first began their careers and everything they’ve been through in the music industry.

“Do you like it here?” Tiffany’s voice is soft and her face serious, something that Wendy is unsure she’s ever seen from her before.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nothing like what I’m used to but that’s a good thing,” Wendy answers, surprised by her own honesty. “It’s nice to not feel judged and that it’s okay if I make a mistake. If I mess up something here, people don’t seem to mind so long as I’m willing to learn from it. It’s not like that… there.” Wendy wants to say home, but she’s not sure if she can call it home for either of them anymore.

“I know what you mean. There’s a lot more freedom out here.” 

A comfortable silence falls between them, both pondering all the times they’d gotten on the bad side of people for whatever reason, big or small. Both being grateful that they still made it here, whilst some others are less fortunate.

Tiffany pulls out her phone to check the time, standing to place her cup in the recycling bin before turning back to Wendy, a lopsided smile on her face.

“Give me your number, I have somewhere I need to be but we should hang out again soon.” 

Wendy obliges, it’d be nice to have a friend here. Someone who understands her. She finishes typing in her number and hands the device back to Tiffany who has pulled sunglasses with a huge frame out of thin air seemingly to place on her face.

“Hey, I know that things may seem a lot better here, and… they can be. But just keep your guard up. The music business is shady everywhere, it doesn’t matter where you are.” Tiffany gently rubs a hand down Wendy’s arm as she speaks. It's not as comforting as she probably believes it is. Whilst she doesn’t say whether she’s speaking from personal experience, Wendy assumes so and appreciates the advice.

"I will, thank you. Let's meet up soon!"

Tiffany turns on her heels to strut back down the street they walked down to get the juice that Wendy realizes now has made her nausea even worse. She watches her for a few steps before she turns back in place to holler in her booming voice that is way more fitting than the serious one just seconds ago.

“Congratulations on the album too.” 

Wendy is stuck in place, jaw agape with confusion. Though she's happy that they didn't end up talking about it, she's slightly worried about how Tiffany knows about it without her mentioning it at all during their catch-up.

“How did y-” Wendy tries to ask but is cut off by an already leaving Tiffany who throws her a response over her shoulder.

“Check the charts, Seungwan.”

to be continued; here

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

addiction, m | ksj ending

pairing(s): seokjin x reader, mentions of past hoseok x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin goes through anger, fear, and inappropriate arousal and, quite frankly, he’s not sorry about it (well, he is a little sorry). It’s a roller coaster.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, violence, mentions of past cheating, smut (a little bit of a praise kink, cowgirl, repeated orgasms)

--

The air itself was tense.

He paced the front hallway after forcing the guards to make themselves scarce. He wasn’t wearing his tie and his blazer was somewhere in the house. That left him in his black suit pants and dark blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. If he was in his right mind, he would have cleaned himself up, perhaps made himself look less agitated as he waited.

You shouldn’t have let her go, Seokjin.

He was scolding himself. He should have trusted his instincts, but instead he let her go. He checked his phone again and there was the feed of the camera showing her leaving her house.

Moments before, he had the urge to call her suddenly, practically growling his instructions.

“Get your ass over here now and bring the week’s supply. All of it.”

He wasn’t even sure she was going to listen to him. But she was leaving her apartment. He shouldn’t have installed that camera outside her apartment, but he also didn’t give a single shit. He needed the peace of mind. He needed it.

He knew how selfish he was. Childish even. He knew it was wrong, all of it. He shouldn’t have kept her around after what happened to Hoseok. He shouldn’t have guilted her into staying a runner. He shouldn’t order her not to be touched, he shouldn’t touch her himself, and he shouldn’t, for fuck’s sake, give her continued access to cocaine.

But he did.

He rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath. He knew he wasn’t a nice man. Maybe it was how he grew up – privileged and the youngest. Always fawned on and treasured. He had no cares in the world. He thought he could have whatever he wanted because money brought everything. And when money didn’t, well, emotions could be manipulated.

He knew he was deplorable. But none of that stopped him.

She wasn’t an addict. Fuck, she practically hated substances now. He knew she kept doing what he asked because she wanted to watch over her customers, wanting to check up on them even if it was to be the next dose. Seokjin knew how twisted that was. A drug dealer who cares because she couldn’t talk them out of the habit. She couldn’t stop them but maybe she could control their dose. And that was fucked up and he let it continue because he wanted to see her, even if she low-key hated his guts.

He really was the worst.

She was supposed to be his. But then she had met Hoseok, friend of a friend, and everything went to shit. He took the scraps he could get. He wasn’t proud of it. He made her do things sometimes when Hoseok was craving it really bad. Memories she probably buried so deep so she couldn’t remember them. And then Hoseok didn’t come to him one time, just once, and everything got even shitter, if possible.

He thought he could live like that. He thought he could continue being like that.

But this time was different. This time he could feel it. He didn’t know what she could do, but there was something different in her eyes this time. He hadn’t counted on that. He hadn’t counted on maybe, just maybe, she would stop this cycle herself.

He scowled, pacing more intensely now. Even now, he was sure of it. She didn’t like to admit it, but he knew her well and saw through her feeble attempts to hide her emotions. He had ignored it, but, of course, it steadily got worse. Each time he saw her, it was like a little more of her died inside. He thought she would get over it. She was a strong person. He had always admired that. Perhaps strong wasn’t the right word. Stubborn.

He punched the wall and growled. The pain felt like nothing compared to the heightening fear inside him. A fear he veiled in anger, the only way he knew how to deal with it.

The knock on the door was sharp.

It cut him out of his thoughts. A few swift strides and he practically ripped the door open. She was breathing hard through the black face mask, cheeks red from running. Grey sweatshirt and long grey shorts. He remembered that outfit. For once, however, her hands were bare. She had forgotten to wear her usual black gloves. She always wore them because she did not like handling the product directly. Fingerprints and shit like that. She looked surprised to see him opening the door.

Without greeting, he grabbed the front of the sweatshirt and dragged her inside, slamming the front door and locking it.

“Seokjin, what the–”

He shoved her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped, head hitting the wall and seeing stars.

“Did you fucking bring it?”

“Fucking hell,” she swore, trying to blink her eyesight straight. “Yes, I brought it, you–”

He shoved her up the wall, taking the face mask off her roughly. He stared into her eyes, which were looking in every direction, getting back into focus. He checked her lips, her nose.

“Seokjin, are you trying to kill me? Fucking shit,” she groaned, shaking her head.

“Do I need to try if you were planning on doing it yourself?” he growled.

The air seemed to drop by ten degrees. Shock, and then shame flitted across her expression. She wasn’t looking at him. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off.

“Lie to me. I fucking dare you.”

She closed her mouth and swallowed. Then she looked up at him. A little bloodshot. Focused and so dark that it ate him up inside seeing that. There was brightness there once. Life.

“Give it to me.”

He held one hand out but the other didn’t let go of her sweatshirt. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded handkerchief. She opened it in his hand. There it was. The packet of cocaine and a bottle of pills. The bottle rolled off his hand and fell to the floor, but he ignored it. He was looking at the plastic bag.

“You opened it.”

“I put it back,” she shot back.

He slammed his fist into her sternum, making her gasp painfully. “How much did you take?”

She suddenly shoved him, tone rising in rage. “I said I put it back, you asshole!”

He threw the packet at her, missing and hitting the wall. “Did you now? Suddenly a good girl?” he mocked, eyes narrowing.

“Fuck you, Seokjin! I’m not a fucking addict like you!”

Unfazed, he raised a finger, pointing at her. “At least I’m not addicted to actively punishing myself mentally and physically over nothing.”

“Nothing?” she hissed, slapping his finger away and shoving him again. “Nothing? You fucking cold-hearted, greedy shit, always acting high and mighty,” she shouted, clenching her fists. “As if you fucking know. As if you would ever have a clue what it was like to be in love.”

“I know,” he scowled. “I watched you and Hoseok frolic around until the end.”

“You–” She tried to slap him, but he dodged out of the way. She glared and turned around, obviously intending to head out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

“Let me go,” she snapped, trying to punch him but he caught her hand in mid-air, squeezing it uncomfortably.

“You know you can’t actually land a hit on me unless I let you.” His voice was low, dangerous.

She stopped struggling and just glowered at him, clenching her jaw. “What are you going to do? Keep me prisoner?”

“Maybe I should. Prevents you from doing anything stupid.”

She was breathing hard. He was much bigger and stronger than she was. His broad shoulders towered over her, and his grip was tight and unrelenting. She changed her tone.

“Why do you care?” She narrowed her eyes. “Can’t have your precious runner die on you?”

He scoffed. “I have many more, better runners who service many more customers than you.”

“Then why does it matter?” she challenged. “I’m just a pawn in your game. Just let me die in peace.”

His blood ran cold. She cemented the worst with those words.

“You’re so caught up in Hoseok’s death that you think about nothing else,” he breathed through gritted teeth.

Her dark eyes flashed. “And why does that matter? You couldn’t give two shits Hoseok died. It only meant I wasn’t going to suck your dick or let you finger fuck me in an alley anymore.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Her eyes widened at the sharp retort. He was staring at her with a mixture of fury and despair.

“Your head is so far up your ass you didn’t even think to look around you.” He released her suddenly, pushing her away from him. “You think I don’t know what love is?” he asked, voice breaking a little as she looked at him, mouth open in shock. He huffed, shaking his head. “I love you. I always have, from the moment I saw you. You can stand there and deny it all you want, but you know it’s true.” He sighed, frowning. “But then you met Hoseok and you instantly fell in love with him. And, shit, Hoseok was a great guy. What was I supposed to do? Not let the women I love be happy?”

“You… you made me do all kinds of sexual favors for you,” she sputtered.

He raised an eyebrow. “And? You were begging for cocaine to feed your boyfriend’s bad habits. You think I would let you have that for free without benefiting off of it?” He chuckled, half in disbelief and half in his own shame. “Are you a saint? You were poisoning my friend right in front of my fucking face.” He cocked his chin at her. “It’s not like you were poor. You have money. You did it anyway.”

Her lips trembled. She looked from the ground to the wall and then to him. “B-but…”

“I should have stopped you both,” he continued, sighing again. “I should have cut him off and I should have made you break up with him. I saw where it was going.” He ran his fingers through his hair, dismayed. “I should have done something. Maybe he wouldn’t be dead. Maybe you wouldn’t be like this.”

“I… I haven’t changed.”

“Haven’t changed?” he snorted disbelievingly. “You’re a shell of a person. You live in Hoseok’s shadow, trapping yourself in there.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Wake up.”

She lifted her head, dark orbs to his. It hurt him to see her like this. It hurt him to know it was partially his fault. Maybe he couldn’t stop her one day in the future. Maybe one day he would be too late and then he would turn into her. Pure apathy, navigating life but not caring for it.

Her head fell. They both knew they had made terrible choices. He exhaled and placed his forehead on top of her head, closing his eyes. Her hair smelled good, a gentle herbal scent.

“Please… I don’t want you to die,” he whispered. The emotion was seeping into his voice, anger dissipating into sadness. It was hurting him so much. He never told her because he didn’t want to burden her with his sorrows too. But he couldn’t stop it now. The walls he made to protect her were cracking, one by one.

“Seokjin…” The way she said his name was shattering his heart. So empty and miserable. “I want to see him.”

“I know,” he murmured, forcing his tears back. “I do too.”

There was a silence. Enough of a moment for Seokjin to collect himself and steady his emotions. He had to be strong. He had to support her.

“You didn’t really mean it, right?” she quietly asked. “When you said you loved me.”

“It wasn’t past tense, Moon.”

She pulled her head back and looked up at him, staring into his brown eyes. He had no lies to tell. He gazed back, smiling just a little.

“I thought I was obvious,” he teased gently. He wasn’t proud of being an absolute dick and taking advantage of her. He knew he was overtly flirtatious, but he also knew there were lines he couldn’t cross. He wasn’t going to try and pursue a relationship when he knew she didn’t want it. It didn’t make his feelings go away though. It didn’t matter who he fucked or who wanted him. The end result was always the same.

It was pathetic, he knew.

She bit her lip, frowning. “You could have forced me to be with you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I wouldn’t do that to Hoseok or to you.”

“Yet… you kissed me at that time.”

His lips pursed. “I make mistakes too.” With a heavy sigh, he took a step back, smiling sadly at her. His hands left her shoulders, slowly, one by one. For the longest time, he had wanted her by his side, always. For the longest time, he had wanted her to stay with him, always. But this time, he felt defeated. This time, he didn’t feel like getting his way.

“It’s time for me to let you go,” he said, smiling at her, crushing his own heart with his own words, smashing it into tiny pieces and praying for them to never come back together. He gestured to the door and turned away from her. He couldn’t save her, no matter how hard he tried. The only thing he could do was stay away from her and keep the drugs out of her reach. He reached down and plucked the packet and the bottle from the floor. What started it all. Just some stupid white powder. He shoved it in his pocket, closing his eyes.

What was I thinking?

“We had fun, didn’t we?” he murmured, more to himself.

“Seokjin.”

Fingers suddenly grasped the sleeve of his dress shirt. Pull away. He bit his lip. He had to be strong. He had to pull away. But he hesitated all the same.

“Please don’t.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Don’t what, my darling?”

She didn’t reprimand him this time. He felt her walk around him, standing in front of him. He couldn’t open his eyes. Don’t look. He knew he would fall apart if he looked.

“Don’t let go.”

She pressed her lips to his, softly. He felt his resolve crack. He opened his eyes, only a little. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as she feverishly kissed him. After his lack of reaction, she broke apart from him, looking up at him with questioning eyes.

“I have to.” To his surprise, his voice was weak, wavering. He had never been so scared in his entire life. “I’m a cold-hearted, greedy shit, remember?”

She frowned at her own words being repeated back to her. “I’m sorry I said that.”

His lips curved upwards ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t be. It’s true, after all.”

She chewed on her lower lip, looking down as she twisted her hands at her stomach. “But you still tried to help me. Even though I always refused it.”

Against his better judgement, he reached out and lifted her head with his fingers. He rubbed his thumb against her chin.

“I had to keep trying for my Moon.”

Her lips parted. She tried to kiss him again, but he turned his hand and pressed on her chest gently, preventing her.

“You don’t need to do that anymore to get what you want,” he said quietly. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

The eyes that looked at him – those dark, dark eyes – full of an emotion he didn’t understand. She was looking at him, deep into his exposed soul, seeing all of him.

“If what I want…” she whispered, lips brushing against his thumb. “If what I want is you, right now, would you say no?”

He should say no. He should refuse and walk away. But he knew his answer and he was sure that she had found him out already.

“I wouldn’t.”

If he could look into those eyes forever, he would. If he could freeze this moment forever, he would. But nothing was forever. He knew that and she knew that.

Her tongue slid out from between her lips and licked his thumb tentatively. He pulled his hand back swiftly, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t pretend for my sake,” he warned. “Don’t give me false hope.”

Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she didn’t really mean it. In the end, he was weak when it came to her. In the end, he gave in. He couldn’t refuse. When he was so drunk that he couldn’t see straight anymore, she was the reason he made himself throw it back up. When he was high as a kite, drifting into nothingness, the only thing he couldn’t forget was her. She was the one he dreamed of at night. When there was only darkness, she was the moonlight. She was the reason to keep going.

She reached out and wrapped her hands around his. “I want you, Seokjin. Show me how much you love me.”

He pulled her to him, making her stumble into him. He crashed his lips into hers, kissing her fully. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, pressing it against hers. It was messy and rough, almost as if they were back at that time. Back at those parties, drunkenly making out, not really knowing what was going on. He let go of her hands and wrapped them around her waist, lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him, sucking on his tongue the way he liked. He moaned into her mouth, walking them to the room. The room they had been in so many times before, but for different reasons. Her sucked on her lower lip, nipping on it softly. She pulled away, kissing his cheeks and jaw, tongue lacing around his earlobe. He shuddered, opening the door and feeling her suck on it softly. His hands held her tightly as he fell onto the black leather sofa with her on top of him.

“Here?” she mumbled, chuckling.

“Look, this is a big house and walking to a bedroom is going to take at least ten minutes,” he growled, squeezing her ass playfully.

“Next time, then,” she said, making his heart skip two beats.

She kissed down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. Her fingers fumbled with the small buttons of his dress shirt.

“For fuck’s sake, rip it open,” he complained.

She laughed a little. He was seriously going to have a heart attack from the arrhythmia she was giving him. “You’re too rich,” she commented, before she hooked her fingers between the folds and ripped the shirt open, causing buttons to fly everywhere and clatter to the floor.

“I’m horny; there’s a difference,” he retorted, yanking the shirt out of his pants himself.

She paused, eyes going down his toned chest. She could see his scars, some she knew, some she didn’t. Her fingers traced them, running down his skin, setting it afire. The shirt slid down his arms, and he lifted his arms out of it. It was useless now anyway.

She kissed his chest, her soft lips like a dream. Her tongue traced the contours of his muscle, hands pressed against his sides. As she kissed down, the hands slid up his broad back. He bit his lip and laid his head back. Down, down, kissing his belly button lightly, then down to the edge of his pants. She spread his legs, nuzzling his crotch. His erection strained against his clothes and she pressed her nose against it, breathing on it.

“Fucking shit…”

She came back up, a sly smile on her face. She straddled his lap, having to spread her legs even more to accommodate him.  He could feel her inner thighs, the heat positioned right above his cock. She rolled her hips into him, pressing her heat against his stiffness.

He groaned, hands gripping the hem of her sweatshirt. He pulled it up and over her head, tossing it onto the marble table. Another second and he had unhooked the black bra. She shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her nice round breasts, nipples sticking straight out at him. He cupped them in his hands and ran his tongue over them, flicking a nipple and earning a soft moan. He sucked on them greedily, lapping up their taste, intoxicated. She gripped his shoulders for balance, panting his name.

“Seokjin… ah…”

He pressed his thumbs against them, rubbing them roughly. “Are you my good girl?” he murmured, watching her come undone with his touch. “Are you all mine?” He pinched them and she gasped, grinding her hips into him.

“Yes, Seokjin,” she breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

He smiled, slowly letting her go. “You have to take off your clothes then, so I can reward you,” he ordered, lightly pushing her off him. She hooked her fingers on the side of her shorts, but he stopped her, twirling his finger with a smirk.

“Turn around first.”

She gave him a look but he simply grinned. Turning around, she pulled the shorts and her underwear down together, exposing her ass and pussy as she bent down. His lips parted seeing her sex glisten with arousal. He hadn’t expected it, even now. She turned back around, frowning as she saw him with his pants still on.

“Too busy to take yours off too?’ she chided, reaching over to unzip his pants.

He smirked. “It’s a good view.”

She was about to yank his pants down but he stopped her, reaching into his other pocket to pull out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow. He took out the condom and placed it beside him before wiggling out of his underwear and pants.

“And here I thought you were going to pull out some money,” she pouted childishly.

He chuckled. “You can have my card any time you want, my love.”

He took her hand and cupped it around his cock, exhaling in satisfaction as she touched him. He had missed this, selfishly. They have never had sexual encounters with all of their clothes off. It was always a spur of the moment, an impulse they craved. She stroked him, but he kept his hand around hers, dictating the pace.

“I can go faster than this,” she said.

“Oh, I know,” he replied, sighing in bliss. “But I have more work to do, so I’m not trying to blow my load in five seconds.”

“What about me?” she asked, lifting her leg and tilting her hips towards him. It was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, her dripping pussy facing him, wanting him.

He let her hand go, hesitantly. “Okay, okay. Get on top of me.”

He rolled the condom onto his cock as she climbed on top, positioning herself above him. Once he was finished, he held it in place as she sank down on him. Slowly. So hot, so wet, her muscles clenching around him, sucking him in. He clenched his teeth. He had only been inside her a few times. Only when Hoseok was really passed out and wouldn’t hear them. Because he couldn’t contain himself knowing his cock was filling her up, feeling her muscles tighten around him, pulsing. It felt so good. He reached up and placed his hand around her waist, positioning her so his cock was touching that spot she liked, making her moan and throw her head back as he thrust into it lightly.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he breathed. “You can take what I’m going to give you, can’t you?”

She knew what he meant. “Y-yes, Seokjin.”

Fuck, he loved it when she said his name so breathlessly like that. “Hold on, my darling.”

She looped her arms around his shoulders and he slammed his hips into her. She gasped at his forcefulness, but there was so time to collect herself as he thrust into her, bouncing her up and down on his cock, letting gravity sink her back down. She cried out, biting her lip hard as he pounded her, muffling them. He called her name, making her look down at him.

“Let me hear you,” he panted. “Scream my name.”

He thrust into her, hard, making her yelp and throw her head back.

“S-Seokjin, fuck!”

“Too rough?” he mocked, ramming into her while pulling her down on him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, Seokjin, whatever you want,” she gasped, “You know you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Yeah?” He rolled his hips, hitting that sweet spot. She moaned his name, dragging it out as he continued. “Squeeze my cock with that delicious pussy of yours. Cum all over it.”

He felt her muscles contract around him and he had to chomp down on his tongue to avoid losing it right then and there. He had to make her orgasm multiple times first. He had to. He stopped, pulling her up so only the tip was inside her. She whined, trying to wiggle back down.

He reached between her legs and found her clit, rubbing it. She gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head as he pinched it, causing her walls to clench and liquid gush down his cock, coating it with wet stickiness.

“F-fuck, Seokjin!”

He grinned, letting her sink back down, but still rubbing her clit. She clung onto him, rocking her hips into his hand as he continued his assault on her clit. He ran his nail over it and she wailed, pussy gripping him tightly as waves of pleasure racked through her, clenching his cock in her warm vice.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered softly in her ear. He removed his hand and she shuddered, her swollen clit rubbing against him as he pressed his hips against hers.

“It’s going to be even better now,” he purred. He lifted her again and began a slow pace, dragging her clit against his skin each time he went down, earning a whine of pleasure each time.

“Seokjin, y-you’re crazy,” she panted, her body shaking in his hands.

“Crazy for your body,” he grinned, thrusting into her harder. She groaned, both at the response and his movements. Each time her body shuddered and he felt her become wetter, he increased his pace, harder, faster. Her pussy throbbed around him.

“M-more, Seokjin, fuck… fuck me up,” she pleaded, meeting his pace.

He couldn’t take much more. Her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing in his face, her completely fucked out expression and her pussy pulsating around him. So hot, so wet, so tight. He felt the familiar sensation tightening inside him. He thrust harder, giving it all he had. He breathed her name.

“Look at me.”

She did, pupils blown wide, devoured in pleasure that was all him, him fucking her senseless, him filling her up with his cock, him making her weak.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He came with a cry, slamming her down on his cock as it shot into the condom. His cock twitched inside her. He shut his eyes, moaning as he felt her pussy squeezing him, milking every last drop uselessly. Her head fell against his shoulder, her heavy breathing against his ear. He shivered. He was wet, sticky, and absolutely filthy. It was amazing.

“You have to get up, my love,” he whispered, exhausted.

He reached down and held the condom as she winced, pulling off of him. His cock slid out and smacked him in the thigh. He was surprised he was still semi-hard after all that.

She slid down next to him. She had never sat down next to him before, not in this room. His heart thudded in his chest and not from the afterglow.

“Seokjin…”

“… Yes?”

“Can we at least find a bed to sleep?”

--

masterpost

[iheardarumorxxx]

Alright, time for biology class, let’s go.

Except not quite yet because I have a continuity question: This might be a book to movie error, but this says that Emmett, Rose, and Jasper were pretending to be seniors, but in New Moon (definitely in the movie, but I thought also in the book), Jasper is there at school with Alice and Edward and Bella. So did Forks High flunk Jasper???

Anyway, Biology class.

would manage to pull out anything in his lecture that would surprise someone holding two graduate degrees in medicine.

Edward has two graduate degrees in Medicine. This makes all of the Twilight books look hilarious in retrospect, but makes the fourth one especially funny in a rage inducing kind of way.

The humans weren't smart enough to know that they feared me, but their survival instincts were enough to keep them away.

1) You said this shit already back in the cafeteria, and I didn’t buy it then, so stop repeating yourself, and 2) I will say again since we’re repeating ourselves: They stay away from you because you’re a stuck up, smarmy little asshole.

Still, from the place where Bella Swan stood, nothing.

If only, sweet Weirdo, you had taken this as a sign of what it truly is: Your sweet precious flower Bella is empty space. A placeholder where hundreds of thousands of guys, gals, and non-binary pals can slip in and make it their fantasy. Can’t do that if she has unique and interesting thoughts. (And no, dear readers, I do not consider Twilight Bella’s ‘unique and interesting thoughts’ because SM never mastered that first person POV and it never felt like we were actually in Bella’s head.)

There was no room full of witnesses - they were already collateral damage in my head.

Okay everyone (myself included) clowns on the fact that as soon as Weirdo gets a sniff of the blood, he’s plotting out the murder of his entire class, but if we could all just take a second here. 

Edward Cullen, the Vampire with Morals and A Heart Of Gold (according to the fanbase) gets a sniff of Bella’s blood and is immediately plotting out the murder of his entire class. No hesitation, no thought. This does not strike me as a man with a high regard for human life, as the books tried to tell me over and over that he was. If the line is still in there, this will get even worse later, but for now, I’m letting it rest on that.

I would also like to make a point about Vampires and their Instincts, but I don’t think this is the time for it. Not yet. So hold on to that thought for later.

the face I'd beaten back with decades of effort and uncompromising discipline

Remember that time Weirdo got pissed at Carlisle and fucked off to go people for a few years in a fit of warped vigilante justice?

Okay, the section is far too long to quote, but let’s talk about Weirdo’s little murder plot, shall we? At this point in the story, especially in this one as I am in Weirdo’s head, I’m supposed to think that he’s driven mad by bloodlust and in some kind of incontrollable madness.

But he’s sitting in his seat literally planning out exactly what the best route is to kill every single student in this classroom so that he doesn’t leave any wittnesses to his crime. He’s being detailed to the point that he can tell exactly how much time he has to do this. 

That isn’t driven mad by bloodlust, guys. That’s fucking cold and calculated. This man is planning to the second how to kill 20 people all at once without getting caught. It’s planned down to the detail. As hilarious as it may be to clown on Weirdo about this passage, please think about it. Think about the cold, calculating way he’s describing murdering innocent teenagers and his biology teacher just so he can drink Bella in peace. Please think about the implications of what kind of person Edward Cullen is, that he can so coldly plan something like that. 

In my head, Carlisle's kind eyes did not judge me.

I have a lot of feelings about Carlisle, and none of them are very nice, but I’ll save that rant and see just how he is in this book, since we’re gonna see more of him.

There is more of Weirdo’s woe is me bullshit here. I feel like it’s supposed to be dramatic and really get us into his Feelies about the Tasty Good Hooman Blood he’s wiffing, but it reads so much like a dramatic pre-teen diary entry that all I hear when I read it is ‘Waaaaaah! Why me? I hate everything, this isn’t FAIR!’

But I didn't have to breathe.

This is a very relevant and important point about the mythology of vampires in this canon. They don’t have to breathe. They literally never have to breathe and choose to do so anyway, and while I could understand that new vampires might continue to breathe because it’s a comfort of their previous life and a force of habit carried over, Weirdo has had plenty of time to lose the habit. And it is absolutely possible to not notice someone not breathing if you aren’t constantly staring at them waiting for the signs, so saying that it’s a tactic to blend in (especially when the Cullens do nothing in their power to blend in to begin with) doesn’t fly either. Weirdo goes on to make a point about how he relies on scent more than his other senses, for the hunt and for warning signs and all that, but he is in school, and if we go by the text, he doesn’t want to hurt the humans around him, so even if he does use his sense of smell, he has no reason to use it in a school full of vulnerable teenagers.

Weirdo calls Bella a Woman-Child and Thanks I fucking Hate It.

And once again, Edward is going into a lengthy fantasy about how to get Bella alone to murder her. I said it already but I’ll say it again. This isn’t fucking bloodlust, this is a cold blooded killer plotting his next kill. This fucker is Calculating. He’s plotting. If he was truly as bad off as he’s claiming, he wouldn’t have the brain power to be this cold and rational about it.

I played a CD of music that usually calmed me, but it did little for me now.

This is funny to me for a number of reasons. The first is my assumption that the CD he’s playing is that one with the DeBussy song on it. Symbolism and all that. But the second is that this is v much something that happened all throughout the Twilight saga with SM. She refuses outright to call things by name. She won’t say the names of bands, or search engines, and the only ‘product placement’ we get is the cars. I can’t tell if she did this to try and make her stories feel more timeless or because she was genuinely afraid of being sued or something for using specifics.

He's almost young enough to be my son. Too young to think of that way..

We get is SM, you want us to think your Pires are the most beautiful, amazing, alabaster angel creatures on the planet. But no sane, rational middle-aged school secretary is going to think of a student this way. It’s gross and creepy and makes me think extremely badly of Mrs. Cope if she’s having lustilicious thoughts about what she thinks is a teenage boy. 

like they've found some way to cheat in every subject.

I would like to point out that, at the very least Weirdo has found a way to cheat in every subject. Even taking into consieration the amount of times he’s been through high school and college, the guy can literally just pluck the answers right out of the teacher’s head. 

And we end Chapter One with a wimper. There are a lot of plot holes in relation to Alice’s visions, but they aren’t bad here, so I’ll leave them alone. The narrative of ‘Vampires do everything so much better than icky humans because they’re just the best and wonderful and great and amazing’ has already started happening, and now that we’re in the head on one of the Pires, I can only assume it’s gonna get so much worse. Here, it only really came up in the form of ‘pitiful, insignificant humans could never do that that I could.’ and the super fast driving bullshit that makes no sense because a car is not a Pire so it can’t just magically adhere to the warped Pire physics.

Anyway, that’s chapter one done. On to the next.

[vesperione]

It Started With A Whisper

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901156

Wordcount: 3,060

Relationship: Xander Lee/John McNamara

Tags: The Apotheosis, transition from non infected to infected, songfic, phone call, angst, crying, last words, flashback.

Full fic below 

A flash of golden hair and two hands slamming down on the table, the face of pure rage over the bustling in the room. “I said SILENCE!” He roared, and his agents seemed to get the idea. They silenced themselves and looked down to their table, except one, who was a physicist and remained looking up. The general didn’t stop. “We are in a situation where the spores could spread to become a pandemic worldwide, ending humanity as we know it! We know thanks to Lieutenant Lee that the origin of these mutating spores came from the meteor that crashed into The Starlight Theatre last night during the touring production of Mamma Mia! We know these spores in particular alter DNA to mimic someone in a musical, but once you get infected, you’re dead. We must not panic and remain safe!” He said and glared at each individual soldier, his eyes lingering on the Lieutenant’s face beside him. It was worried, sad, fearful. He looked away first, and the general took a breath.

“Any remaining survivors must be shot dead, once in the head, once in the heart. We don’t know who is infected. The plan after is that we incinerate the corpses of the dead, destroy any last spores with fire and blow the meteor to shreds. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices rang from around the table.

“I wish for Lieutenant Lee to stay behind and as for the rest of you? You are required to head straight to your stations and do not move once you are there! PEIP will be in lockdown once everyone is in the correct position. Dismissed.”

With that, the shuffle of chairs against faded carpet, the soldiers left, aside from two. The Lieutenant remained sitting down, his hands putting his head in their hold, while John, pull a chair beside him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Dear, a lot of people have died, and it is our duty to make a clean sweep of the island. We can’t allow any others to die today.”

“But if you go out there, there’s a higher possibility that you will die. You can’t go out; you won’t make it back.”

“Xander, listen.” John looked down to his husband, his hands placed in a firm clasp. “We are strong. We are McNamara’s.”

“No, you’re a McNamara, we got married illegally.”

“Regardless, you’re my husband, and you’re the strongest man I know. The McNamara’s are the strongest family in Hatchetfield, we’ll be fine.”

“No, we won’t. Things are indefinitely gonna change whether you make it back or not.” John looked to the Lieutenant, just in time to see a tear drop on to the glass table. He bit his lip and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll make it back.”

“Stop lying to yourself, John.” Xander said, his voice shaking as tears continued to fall down his face. “If you go, you’re gonna die. You know that, deep down.” He looked up to face his husband. “The agents we’ve already sent out have died, you know that, I know that, Ben knows that, and you’re gonna send yourself into the epicentre?”

“Xander, you know it’s not like that.” John looked at him, trying to reason, but he shook his head.

“Speaking from a Lieutenant’s point of view, if our general dies, the entire precinct goes down with it. I’m aware Colonel Schaffer is prepared to take over PEIP at any sudden chance you go, but PEIP will never be the same. It won’t be General McNamara’s precinct anymore. Sure, you’ll get your place on the PEIP Hall of Commemoration, but there’ll be a new leader, new rules.”

“I know but-“

“And as your husband, who the fuck am I going to come home to every night aside from the cats?” He looked up at John and took in the slight grey thunderbolt streaks that clashed with his stormy blue skies of irises, creating the picture-perfect storm on what could have been a blank canvas. It was a while before John broke his eyes away and stood up. “No, John! You tell me! You can’t run from this! You can’t run from the pain you’re gonna cause others if you step out that door!”

“It’s hard enough as it is for me to have to leave you, but as the general of this god-forsaken branch, it’s my duty to protect the remaining agents while they stay in the precinct and calculate a cure! You will be one of those to go into your lab and get working!”

“Yet I can’t go with you?!”

“You don’t have the current training!”

“Stop trying to fucking protect me, John! I’ve been here since 2007 and you treat me like a Private most of the time! I’m a 35-year-old Lieutenant with a degree in theoretical physics and I’m fully trained as a medic! I have the training, so why are you sacrificing your life instead of mine?!”

“Because if I have to watch you die, then what’s the point of trying to go on, Xander?! I’d be alive, yes, but I’d only be surviving! If I had to watch you die, then I wouldn’t be able to call myself a married man and the person who kept me alive wouldn’t be there to comfort me. I’d be down, I’d be so down, and I’d end up dead anyway! I’d prefer it if you stayed here, under my orders, and for you to stop being so damn stubborn with me!”

“Me? Stubborn?!” Xander laughed tearfully and looked at him. “You’re the stubborn one! You run from your problems instead of solving them, you bask in your insecurities instead of delving upon them, you-“ But he was cut off by the familiar feeling of John’s semi-chapped lips against his own. John’s hands were cupping his face, and John was standing on his toes to kiss him better. Xander couldn’t help but hold his waist as he kissed him back. He didn’t want to be the one to pull away, and he didn’t think John would want to be the person either, so he could feel the kiss deepening. Eventually, John’s face left his, but his forehead was pressed to the physicist’s. The soft thumb attached to John’s hand wiped away the bead of salt that threatened to roll down Xander’s face.

“Hey, baby,” John started, his eyes closed and his voice quiet. “I’ll be home by ten. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Xander said, a soft whisper in his voice as John moved away from his husband, not before he dropped his wedding and engagement rings in Xander’s fist. Before Xander could process it, he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

(a JEIP is a peip officiated jeep)

John started up the JEIP, hearing Xander’s music playing through the speaker. He immediately switched it off. He’d rather not be reminded of his husband as he accepted his fate.

His husband, his smart, incredible, the pure definition of ‘tall, dark and handsome,’ Xander James Lee. His mind was like no others, and John had hired him on the spot. They started dating within a year and got married two years after. They’d both cried when they’d gotten home that night. It had been illegal, and they both knew that, but they had each other. He was John’s new addiction, aside from the cigarettes, and Xander became the only thing he thought about ever. When Xander spoke, sometimes it sounded like what John was being given was fiction, but it was only because John’s mind was struggling to piece together the creative aspects of Xander and the complicated phrases he uttered. It didn’t matter. John was a sorry sucker for the smart, and he found that this kind of thing happened all the time. He was an easy target to gain a crush on someone, but he rarely acted upon it. If Xander hadn’t kissed John in his office to begin with, he wouldn’t be married to the smartest guy in town.

He shook his head. Thinking of Xander would make everyone worse. He started driving deeper into the centre of Hatchetfield to reach Hatchetfield High, the school where he suspected there’d be a few survivors, if any. The grey haze around him soon became a paler blue. He locked his doors and windows, but he feared it was too late.

It started with a whisper. It was only the smallest thing, but it was in the back of John’s mind, and he knew he was gone.

He doesn’t love you.

“ No, John, ignore it.”

And you don’t love him.

“ Of course you do, you’re married to him, don’t cave in.”

That was why you kissed her when you were drunk.

“John, you only kissed her when you were seventeen, it was internalised homophobia and we didn’t know Xander back then.”

But you liked the way she felt against your lips.

“No. I didn’t.”

And then she made your lips hurt.

“Shut up.” The voice was getting louder, and it was being sung to him.

But we can hear the chit chat, so take us to your love shack-

He hit the breaks and he jerked forward, panting at the memory. It was internalised homophobia, and nothing came out of it. He was left in silence until he heard the voice sing again.

Mama’s always gotta back track, when everybody talks back.

He growled and got out the car, lighting a cigarette. He was in Hatchetfield High, or near enough to it. He held his gun in his hand. He had to go and find any survivors and eliminate them.

--------------------------------------------------------

Eventually he did. He found a tall, flimsy man with brunette hair who looked a lot like Xander aside from the pale skin. John grabbed a chair as the man became conscious, groaning with pain. The voice had gone away, and the general was having an internal debate as to whether he was truly infected, or whether his mind was convincing him he was. Either way, he was beginning to get scared. He’d broken his promise to his husband, he’d lost the fight.

“Sorry for the knock in the head, son. What’s your name?”

“Uh, Paul…Matthews.” The guy said, and John smiled reassuringly.

“Good evening, Paul. My name is General John McNamara of the United States Military, special unit P-E-I-P, we call it PEIP.” He said as he took a seat, facing the taller man.

“PEIP? I’ve never heard of you guys.” It was clear he was confused, which was the correct tactic. No citizen outside of PEIP should know what the army base was. Even if a member had a husband or wife or kids who didn’t work there, they were strictly forbidden from knowing what PEIP was. If information got leaked, it would traumatise a lot of people. They had to be careful who they hired and had to ensure they remained to have top secrecy 24:7. It wasn’t fair on the innocent citizens for them to be placed in a situation like that, and immediately begin to panic. He’d watched it happen when his mentor, Wilbur Cross, was unintentionally too loud when discussing a case they had to work on. Needless to say, that woman lost her life that day before she could spread rumours.

John shook his head at the faint memory, quick to come up with a joke to make the situation more light-hearted and less threatening as he’d been taught during his training.

“And you never will, not a peep.” He grinned, but Paul’s fearful, brown eyes remained wide and dilated. John sighed and took another drag on the cigarette. “That was a joke, son.” Only then did the song begin to start up again.

Hey, honey, you could be my drug. You could be my new prescription.

John froze as Paul started asking questions about the scene. The song was back, and he was losing hope about himself. John answered the questions the best he could, explaining how they dealt with crises of a certain nature and such. Then he bought up the helicopter, and Paul perked up. When John stood up with Paul’s phone in his hand, he went to throw it until he heard the song again.

Too much could be an overdose, all this trash talk make me itchin’.

John swallowed and decided to only throw it a short distance, beginning to get scared. Him and Paul continued to make short conversation about his crush, Emma, and where to go. Once Paul ran out the building, John headed back over to the phone. The lock screen was nothing special, and he didn’t know the passcode, but he was able to swipe on to the emergency phone call section. He had Xander’s phone number memorised, so he typed it in, sitting against a mat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the song continued in his head.

Oh my, my. Everybody talks, everybody talks. Everybody talks, too much.  

John felt tears prick his eyes, grateful when he heard the static of the other end picking up.

“Xander Lee, theoretical physicist speaking, how may I help?”

“Hey, baby.” John said, unable to stop a smile from forming as it always did when he heard Xander’s voice.

“John! Shit! Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I swear.” That was a lie. The song was getting stronger and he was starting to feel a faint rhythm in his veins. He was getting scared. Maybe he wasn’t making it home…

“You sound panicked.”

“I’m ringing to ensure everything’s running smoothly back at HQ. Is it?”

“As smooth as it can be.” Xander’s sigh was heavy, pulling his entire weight down with him. John found himself sinking further down into the ground at the sound. “But I’m okay. I’m in my lab and I haven’t let anybody in. I’m quarantined.”

“Good.” John said, moving his beret more over his hair. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I understand. You’re doing what you have to do. You’re the general, I should have trusted you before-“

“Hey, sweetheart, don’t play the blame game now. It’s okay and I’ve forgiven you, understand?”

“Understood, John.”

“Good.” John said, clutching the edge of the mat as the beat began to become something similar to an annoying itch. He began to tap out the beat on to the carpet beside him with his other hand, trying to keep fighting the virus that consumed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I can’t wait for you to come home, I know you’ll be able to do it.”

That seemed to trigger something inside of John, and something slipped out of his mouth that wasn’t supposed to. “I never thought I’d live to see the day, when everybody’s words got in the way.” He was still speaking, but the beat was as clear as day. Luckily, he heard Xander laugh over the phone. His soft laugh that was rare to hear. John was the only one who heard it lately.

“You’re still annoyed at me for trying to stop you from leaving earlier, aren’t you?” Another laugh followed. “I knew you would, I’m not surprised.”

John couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to tell Xander the truth. He was gone, and he was falling quicker. He had to say goodbye while he still could. “Hey sugar, show me all your love. All you’re giving me is friction.”

“John?” The question was meek and scared, the tone of the call immediately fading. John never used that pet name. Something was wrong. He knew John wouldn’t have rang otherwise.

“Hey, sugar, what you gotta say?” Another way to reveal John wasn’t himself anymore. He hardly abbreviated his words and was unable to keep himself fighting the infection. He felt weak, and he knew he was. He fought back for consciousness as tears formed more in his eyes. What was worse was Xander’s panicked voice.

“John, what’s going on?!” The frantic clicking of keys on the other end of the line signalled to John that Xander was trying to access John’s medical information stored in John’s watch. He took a breath. He had to admit to Xander the truth.

“I’m sorry, Xander. But it started with a whisper…” He was quiet himself, trying to prevent sobs.

“No! Don’t you dare, John! Don’t you dare!”

“And it felt like the first time I kissed you, when you made my lips hurt.”

“You are staying alive! I’m working on a cure, I nearly have it finished! I’ll get you back!”

“And suddenly, I could hear a conjoined group of voices in Hatchetfield all singing in one harmony…there was a lot of chit chat regarding a situation that turned into a song… and I’m sorry.”

“John! You’re lying!”

“Take me to your love shack.” He slipped up and heard a sob come from the other line, or maybe it was a scream. “I’m sorry, Xander, I’m trying to fight but it’s heard when everybody talks back, everybody talks, everybody talks-“

“John, keep fighting-“

“Everybody talks, everybody talks.”

“I’ve almost gotten the cure!”

“Everybody talks, everybody talks back….I’m sorry, I love you.”

“John, fucking fight!”

“Say it back, Xander! I love you!”

“I-I love you too!”

The phone hung up and John threw it until it smashed on the ground, letting the warmth fill his body as his own thoughts became clouded with the hives own.

“It started with a whisper, and that was when I kissed him.” A smirk formed on John’s face as he looked to the damaged glass he’d left on the floor. He pulled himself up, like a puppet controlled by a master. “Everybody talks, everybody talks back.” He took a final glance at the room before he walked in the same beat as the new song beginning to form. It was close enough to eleven o’clock at night. There was a guy with a moustache he didn’t recognise, but he was talking about the military and his American pride. John would have scoffed, but this wasn’t John. He drew his gun and shot him, grabbing the man’s shoulder. Xander didn’t exist to the hive. Xander was weak. Xander could be thrown away. John couldn’t. His smile was stained blue as he looked to the bleeding man.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but American’s should fit a mould…”

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Brainstorm

Buford is my favorite out of the main five kids. He has a lot of great hidden depths. 

Though Buford could appreciate the organized chaos of an adolescent mind, Baljeet’s subconscious was a little too…overlord-y for his liking. Compared to the giant robotic Baljeet looming above them on an enormous control panel, Candace’s Id seemed like a friendly neighbor you started chatting with while grabbing the mail.

A projectile fired, barely missing Buford and slicing a giant eight in half.

Of course Baljeet’s subconscious was one giant calculator. Buford’s street cred would dwindle away to nothing if word got out. He wondered how he could go about creating an official non-disclosure agreement to get the others to keep their mouths shut.

And it couldn’t be a simple calculator either. There just had to be graphs.

Buford missed the varied landscapes of Candace’s subconscious. Here, everything was just gray and mechanical and boring. How was he supposed to lead a guided tour through this place if there was nothing interesting to talk about?

“And to your left, you’ll see gray. Fun fact: the mind of a nerd is boring and watching paint dry is more entertaining than this. Please buy Lord Baljeet’s latest book, How to Remove Earth’s Atmosphere and Other Fun Science Projects for the Intellectual Mind, in the gift shop at the end of this tour. Make sure to take recyclable paper bags unless you want Lord Baljeet to set you one hundred unsolvable quadratic equations as punishment!”

A nearby calculator key slid open, revealing a small hollow in the mechanical ground. Phineas’ head poked out of the hole, and he waved Buford over.

“CALCULATING OPTIMAL VELOCITY AND SPEED OF PARABOLARANGS.”

Buford had no idea what a parabolarang was, but he knew Phineas and Ferb could come up with a working plan to deal with the robotic Baljeet. He slid into the hollow just as the sound of something charging up grew louder.

“Now, Isabella!” Phineas shouted.

Isabella pulled on her Fireside Girl sash, releasing a lever on a wall and plunging them into a slight darkness as the calculator key closed above them. The only light came from tiny bulbs in the wall, casting the hollow in an eerie green glow.

“So does anyone know what we’re dealing with?” Buford demanded.

Isabella shrugged. “He’s acting like he’s got that brain stimulator on his head.”

“I don’t think we can approach this like Candace’s Id,” Phineas admitted. “The robotic Baljeet is too calculated. He’s using logic to determine his best way of attack.”

Buford scowled. “Hasn’t Baljeet’s nerdy Space Adventure films taught him anything? Robots with too much intelligence tend to develop huge egos and claim they’re better than us just because they’re not made out of carbon. The fifth movie is a prime example of that!”

He was pretty sure a cricket chirped somewhere, even though there were no crickets in the room.

“Not that I would know anything about it. It’s not like I’ve been having movie marathons with Baljeet or anything,” Buford coughed.

“Actually, I think you might be onto something,” Phineas said. “If the Id can have a physical form inside the subconscious, then the other parts of the Freudian mind might have one too.”

“It’s likely we’re dealing with Baljeet’s Ego, the polar opposite of the Id,” Ferb added. “Bruising it might be our best option.”

“Good thing we’ve got our friendly neighborhood bruiser right here!” Phineas grinned at Buford.

“Unless you want broken knuckles, you might wanna stick to talking,” Isabella suggested.

“Talk? Come on guys, you know I ain’t good at talking!” Buford protested.

An alarm blared, cutting off whatever inspiring words Phineas was going to say. The bulbs flashed red repeatedly. Everyone covered their ears.

“Is something out there?” Isabella shouted.

“Not sure!” Phineas yelled back. “Anyway, Buford, just use the normal bully language! And don’t worry, everyone knows an A.I’s greatest weakness is talking!”

“Sure you can’t just rig up some motorcycles that leave cool neon trails behind?” Buford asked. “Cause I ain’t sure your plan’s gonna work!”

The alarm blared louder.

“GRAMMAR POLICE! OPEN UP! BUFORD VAN STOMM, YOU ARE BEING CHARGED FOR USING A GRAMMATICALLY INCORRECT CONTRACTION AND ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE AS CANON!”

“It had a good musical number though,” Phineas said.

“YOU WILL ALL BE CHARGED FOR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE IN GENERAL. WE WILL HAND YOU OFF TO THE OVERLORD FOR PUNISHMENT. COME OUT AND DON’T TRY ANYTHING FUNNY.”

The calculator key was hauled up by a green beam of energy, revealing a large ship controlling a tractor beam. Several robots in blue uniforms flooded in.

“WE HAVE THE CRIMINALS,” a robot said into a communication device as it grabbed hold of Buford’s arms. “BEAM US UP, LOTTIE. YES, I’M ALLOWED TO SAY IT. WE ARE PRODUCTS OF A SUBCONSCIOUS AND THEREFORE AREN’T SUBJECT TO COPYRIGHT LAWS.”

“I think I liked being attacked by the Ducky Momo club better,” Buford muttered as their surroundings disappeared and were replaced by a jail cell with electrified bars.

Since the guards weren’t leaving, they couldn’t come up with a plan, so the entire ten minute ride was spent in silence. Well, mostly silence. Phineas kept up a steady flow of chatter with the guards, unaware that they were probably ignoring him.

Since Buford had accumulated the most severe yet stupid charges, he walked in front of his friends. Buford felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. He hoped the quadratic equation thing was an exaggeration.

“I SENTENCE YOU TO ONE MILLION MULTIPLICATION PROBLEMS,” the Ego declared to a bucktoothed and glasses-wearing robot as they were led into the control room.

The robot nodded.

“TO BE DONE WITHOUT YOUR INTERNAL CALCULATOR.”

The nerdbot had to be dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming all the way.

“OVERLORD, WE HAVE BROUGHT BUFORD VAN STOMM AND HIS PARTNERS IN CRIME. THEY HAVE DARED TO USE INCORRECT GRAMMAR IN YOUR MIND AND MENTIONED THE FORBIDDEN FILM,” the lead guard said.

“This is dumb!” Buford shouted at the guard. “I want a lawyer! A jury of my peers! Someone with an actual degree in law!”

“You’re a triviamaster in Space Adventure, Baljeet,” Phineas added. “You have to know what happens in the fifth Space Adventure movie during the trial scene.”

Isabella made a show of rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what happens in the fifth movie. I’ve only seen the first two. For all I know, it could’ve gone exactly like this and we’ll all be doomed to one million multiplication problems ‘til our hundredth birthdays.”

“THAT IS NOT TRUE. THEY CLEARED THE LIEUTENANT OF ALL CHARGES AFTER THE CAPTAIN DISCOVERED THE FAKED EVIDENCE,” the Ego intoned.

“You’ve acknowledged the Forbidden Film,” Ferb said. “And broke your own law.”

“WHAT? NO! I HAVE INTELLIGENCE FAR BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION! I HAVE THE LARGEST BRAIN IN THE WORLD! MY PROCESSORS HAVE ADVANCED FARTHER THAN ANY COMPUTER MANKIND HAS EVER MADE!”

Sparks flew from between his joints and raced over his bolts. Without orders from their overlord, the Grammar Police were powerless.  

“Buford, go for the brain while he’s having an existential crisis!” Phineas shouted.

“On it!” Buford exclaimed, crackling his knuckles as he charged toward the Ego’s head. He shimmied up the robot’s arm, feeling electricity course through the metal. Not wanting to get caught in the blast if the Ego blew up, Buford quickened his pace, reaching the head after one brief misstep caused him to almost slip off entirely.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way inside from the top of the head. Everything was covered in reinforced metal. Even Buford couldn’t punch his way through. Then he looked down, realizing the eyes were made of more breakable material than the rest of the body. Hoping he wouldn’t be nursing bloody fists later, Buford punched the eye, and the material tore like paper.

Apparently the Ego hadn’t spent a lot of time reinforcing his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Buford shouted in frustration. He could only fit one arm through the hollow opening. He felt around the area, hoping to tear out a few wires. Instead, his hand landed on something that felt like cloth.

The metal was growing hotter, and Buford knew he didn’t have much time. So he yanked on the cloth.

And a familiar scream sounded from inside the Ego.

Buford yanked one more time, and the real Baljeet tumbled out. He looked no worse for wear, other than being dazed from Buford pulling on his overalls strap.

“He’s got Baljeet!” Isabella exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here!”

Buford tucked Baljeet under his arm, catching up with everyone else as they sprinted out of the room. The Grammar Police didn’t pursue them, still shocked by their overlord malfunctioning.  

“Irving! Get us out of Baljeet’s subconscious!” Phineas shouted into his phone.

“Roger that, Phineas!” Irving exclaimed. “In ten, nine, eight-“

“SKIP THE COUNTDOWN!” Buford roared into the receiver.

Irving huffed. “Fine. I guess some people have no appreciation for a good countdown.”

A few moments later, Buford’s vision was flooded by blue and green. He ripped off the electrodes attached to his face, throwing them to the ground and stomping them into the dirt for good measure. Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and Baljeet were already awake, though only Phineas was standing and moving around.

“Learned my lesson,” Baljeet groaned. “I will never spend another all-nighter arguing on Space Adventure forums.”  

[ajroyalty68]

Withdrawal Part Two

So, both because I can really only talk to a few people in my life about this and because no one is likely to read this, I’m gonna go ahead and rant for a minute.

When I was diagnosed with depression in my sophomore year of high school, I was prescribed (after trying five or six other meds first) Venlafaxine (brand name, Effexor). Right up front, my doctor shared that it had been nicknamed by health professionals “Side Effexor” and to let him know if I couldn’t handle the side effects that would happen. He didn’t say “might” happen, he said, “would”. The side effects did suck, but after trying so many other meds that either didn’t help at all or made my depression worse, I was willing to stick it out. 

A few years later my diagnosis was amended to bipolar depression, and although another medication (Oxcarbazepine), was added, the fact that the Effexor was still working for me led my psychologist to suggest I keep taking my original meds as well. At this point, I was warned about the near certainty of debilitating withdrawal if for any point I was to stop taking the Venlafaxine. 

Less than a year later, I lost my health insurance and found out that one month of medications would be over $1000 without it. The withdrawal was brutal, but since I was also dealing with another million (or so it seemed) life issues on top of it, I didn’t realize how much of my miserable condition was caused by withdrawal.

Fast forward to last week, when I made an inexcusably stupid mistake. Right after picking up my Effexor, I cleaned out my car in the Kroger parking lot. As you may have already guessed, my medication made it into the trash can by accident. I attempted to get a new prescription (knowing that I would have to pay the cash price) but was basically ignored by my current primary care physician (don’t worry, I already have an appointment with a new PCP, this isn’t the first time they’ve made it hard for me to get medical help and I’m sick of it) and was unable to get a new refill.

Long story short, I knew I was about to go through withdrawal again, but having been through that sort of situation while my life was already falling apart a little bit, I figured it would be a lot easier now that I had a good support system and was honestly discussing my problems with my best friend (my grandma). And that is helping. A LOT. I cannot express how grateful I am to her and my current situation. 

But here comes the withdrawal portion of the rant. I’m basically just going to list complaints about my withdrawal symptoms and the rest of the post may be even more tiresome and incomprehensible than the beginning. You have been warned.

I am always cold. I have always been like this, and I’m used to it. But when I am huddled under a couple of thick blankets wearing a jacket using my dog as a heater and I’m still shivering so hard I have trouble answering my grandma because my teeth are chattering, that’s a little much. And that’s just at home. Earlier today at work, while on the phone with another bookstore, they actually asked if our heater was out. Because they could hear my teeth chattering.

Now for the opposite. Something I didn’t have to deal with the first time I went through withdrawal with these meds: HOT FLASHES!... Or at least I don’t remember them happening before. As I mentioned, I’m always cold. And the highest the temperature has been here for the past several days is around 40 degrees Fahrenheit, so the shivering has been easy to pass off as nothing. But when I feel like I’m gonna pass out until I strip down to my bra and hang out in the garage for a bit, that’s a little harder to explain. NOTE: I have been able to resist stripping in my classes and at work, but sometimes it’s been difficult to hold out!

Another fun thing is the shaking. Not just the shivering, but when my hands shake so violently that I have to stop doing homework. To be fair, I have a natural tremor. I literally cannot remember life without one, and it’s noticeable enough that at least once a week a stranger will remark on it. I often hear, “Are you nervous? I don’t bite!” HAHA! YOU’RE SO FUNNY!

I’m sick to my stomach all the time. I haven’t been eating much (which doesn’t help the shaking) because I keep thinking I’ll throw up if I do. I finally realized today that it’s pretty much here to stay for the near future and eating neither helps nor harms the level of nausea, so I’ve just been making friends with Pepto Bismal to negligible results.

I CAN’T STOP SLEEPING. Yes, I’m exhausted, but I also keep having to huddle up in bed in an attempt to keep warm and fall asleep in the process. Again, not conducive to homework or personal life. Shout out to having a grandma who went through an addiction to prescription drugs and understands what I’m dealing with.

Finally, I feel INSANE because I know, as soon as I get a new prescription, I’ll be beelining it to Kroger to get more meds. I hate my dependency, but I find it incredibly difficult to be a productive member of society who can avoid suicide attempts without it. I am more than willing to try alternatives and would love to find a non-medicated method of dealing with my mental illness, but at this point in time, I know I’m not strong enough to deal with my chemical imbalances without prescription drugs.

Thank you, Tumblr for letting me rant, and I apologize to anyone who may actually read this.

[mostlymovieswithmax]

Midsommar [spoiler review]

Ari Aster has released his second feature film, Midsommar for which he writes and directs and it is a vast, expansive experience that threw me through a kaleidoscope of emotions, which amazingly is something I can’t say for a large number of horror movies coming out these days. That being said however, I’m not entirely sure that I could confidently class Midsommar as a horror. I don’t know if I’d really class it as any specific genre at all. It is certainly its own beast and for that, I would commend it highly. As something that is so dense with detail I will probably be jumping back and forth to moments in the story, giving this review a somewhat non-chronological structure. I can’t possibly touch on everything, especially as I’ve only seen it once. I believe it is something that needs multiple experiences to fully appreciate and is a movie I’d love to experience again.

The talent on display in regards to basically every technical aspect of the film is to be praised tremendously. I loved the cinematography and the look of the movie; the colours and the sets were all gorgeous. Mostly set in broad daylight, this stylistic choice is not something I’d immediately associate with a movie that was going for this type of vibe. Mixed with the set designs, the look of the movie made for a visual feast I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. What made the aesthetic qualities of the movie pop that little bit extra for me was the camera work and how it moved; I think of shots like when Dani goes into the bathroom in the first act and the camera pans over the door frame and twists to show her standing in the toilet of the plane. Or when they’re driving across Sweden and the camera flies over the car and turns to end up in an upside down position, perhaps foreshadowing what the characters are in for on this journey. It’s details like this that cracked a huge smile from me as I was watching, not to mention it separates Midsommar from so many other movies that try to depict suspense and terror. Furthermore, a feature that I found to be intensely thoughtful to accompany the fantastic visual display was the editing, or more specifically the cutting of shots. Often I see movies follow a certain formula when it comes to this facet; conversations cut together with a shot of one character and then a reverse shot to show another character; wide angles to establish locations or buildings, then cutting to the inside of the buildings themselves. There’s seldom ever much of a flare to the editing of a movie but I saw Midsommar capture that charmingly to add tension or even to highlight a joke. Accompanied by the score, a lot of these shots gave off an eerie tone that made me feel pleasantly uncomfortable. I loved the low, stretched out notes of the music that went that extra step further in order to make me feel slightly distressed. The sound design was incredible and generally it isn’t a facet I’d pick up on unless it was either done very well or very poorly. There were sections where even items like cutlery or people walking would catch my ear in a noticeably pleasing way. It shouldn’t be undervalued at all; great sound design can elevate a movie so much and I’m both glad and impressed at how well it was executed here.

Midsommar’s first act may have unfortunately contained a lot of my favourite moments. It introduced the main characters and worked to convey the relationships between Dani and Christian, as well as with Christian and his friends and how they all felt about Dani. I appreciated the time put into the dynamic between Christian and his friends and how they viewed Dani, although this was sort of thrown away once they got to Sweden; I never saw any sort of resentment from them towards Dani after that. Pelle obviously felt a lot differently about Dani, going as far as to kiss her during the latter stages of the movie. I’m not sure why it was necessary to have Pelle feel this way and I don’t understand what it added to the story besides forcing some conflict into Dani’s relationship with Christian, which was being achieved on his end regardless. Along with this, we are also shown the unfortunate and upsetting demise of Dani’s family which acts as a plot point in helping Dani to decide upon accompanying Christian and his friends to Europe. Seeing what happens to Dani’s family may have been the most affecting part of the movie for me. To top it off, her reaction was absolutely chilling; I love how Aster gets such raw and believable performances in his films. Dani’s loud, pained cries made me feel for her so much and forced a deep discomfort into me that carried through as the credits and title came on screen. Something that intrigued me quite a bit during this first act is how conversations were filmed through mirrors. We would see a couple of instances of characters talking to other characters that were reflected in a mirror. These static shots that carried on for a short while added to the tense atmosphere and the conversations or arguments that were taking place, imposing a kind of separation between those we could see outside the mirror and those we see inside the mirror. The main cast we’re introduced to in America are all good and give believable and compelling performances. Florence Pugh was fantastic as Dani; William Jackson Harper was decent; Will Poulter was great and one of the stand-outs from my experience. Vilhelm Blomgren portrayed quite an interesting character in Pelle. Christian seemed to be the only one that rubbed me the wrong way because he was such a massive dick the entire time and he was never redeemed. Not to say Jack Reynor’s acting was bad (quite the opposite in fact), I just didn’t sympathise with the character. There are aspects to the characters and the decisions they make that wound me up a bit but in terms of the acting, they were more or less solid.

The secondary characters, or mainly the Swedish locals didn’t stand out as individuals to me, possibly because they were portrayed more as a collective, which is fine but I would’ve liked to have seen some character development from at least a couple of them. Now, I say it’s unfortunate that I derived the most entertainment out of this first act because after that, Midsommar suffers quite a bit from some pacing issues. This movie is almost two and a half hours long and it didn’t feel like it needed to be, especially with a plot that only allows for so much exploration. The plot itself is quite basic, but it is displayed as something so grandiose in scope that it comes across as being eminently pretentious. Could it be the insanely short production time that went into making Midsommar that makes it feel fairly lacking in a few areas? Or is this genuinely the cut that Aster wanted? Results from a quick search of the movie told me that around half an hour of its running time was cut due to the content it presented. Consequently, this will make the home video release different to some degree than the cinema release as it may come to our TV screens as a director’s cut. If this is in fact the case (and I do intend to buy the blu-ray upon its release) then could it be that we’ve not even seen the movie that Ari Aster wanted us to see? Will a director’s cut make it better, worse, or simply just longer? I for one am assuredly excited to see what the end result is.

A big problem I had with Midsommar is how early it peaked in regards to the horror. One of the first things the main characters are presented with upon arriving at this rural community is the idea of people being separated into groups depending on their age: the concept that they didn’t consider themselves adults until a certain age; that they didn’t work until they were old enough to; that they died when they reached a specific year of their life. They’re then told that a ceremony will be held the next day and while our main characters ask what it is, we see William Jackson Harper’s character, Josh smiling in a sly “I know what it is” kind of way. His friends try to ask what he knows, to which he does not divulge anything. What follows this is a scene wherein two elderly people sacrifice themselves by falling off of a cliff in front of the other members of the community. To me, this scene was beautifully unsettling for a number of reasons. Despite expecting them to jump initially, I was still shocked at how well it was executed both in relation to the story and in a technical sense. At first, the woman jumps off of the cliff, dying instantly with a bloodcurdling crunch. Of course the characters from America and the characters we are introduced to earlier from England are understandably shocked. Even Josh reels back in surprise which I found to be a little strange considering how he acted as though he knew what was going on beforehand. What did he think was going to happen if not that? We’re never told. As the old man approaches the edge of the cliff and the English and Americans clue in to what is happening, they react as I’m sure we all would to what happens as he prepares to jump. He lands in a much more awkward fashion with a smaller sound that is no less distressing. Only this time, he doesn’t die... The scene is then racked up a notch as he screams out in pain at having his leg torn off and his body broken on impact. The rest of the Swedish onlookers scream in pain with him and it is terrifying to hear. I imagine this painted a picture to most viewers that the locals we are presented with in this rural Swedish village are all somewhat spiritually connected; are able to empathise with one another's emotions in a way that makes them able to feel the sensations of those they’re close to. Undoubtedly the torment doesn’t stop there and Aster has to quite literally hammer home what this ceremony is all about. In order to put the old man out of his misery, a group of people take it in turns to smash his head in with a large mallet, causing further stress to the main characters, but stopping all of the Swedish inhabitants from screaming in agony. That whole scene… was awesome! I loved it and it stands to be maybe my favourite sequence from the movie. The unfortunate part is that after this happens, I expected everything to amp up a bit and start showing me more uncomfortable and fucked up things but sadly this wasn’t the case. In a sense, it was as if the movie blew its load on this earlier scene and didn’t focus on too many other stand-out plot beats which was pretty disappointing.  For some reason, Will Poulter’s character ‘Mark’ had slept through this ceremony and as a result, hadn’t experienced what his friends had. Whether this was done for a specific reason I’m not picking up on or simply so that he could continue to crack jokes is beyond me. I will give credit where credit is due: this movie made me laugh when it wanted me to. The inclusion of comedy in Midsommar was expertly handled and never made it come across as a lame horror-comedy.

Prior to this and upon arriving in the green fields of rural Sweden, the protagonists all get high and lie around in the grass. While the comedy kicks in here, it is also notable for the reaction of Dani as she starts to feel the grief of losing her family once more and urgently tries to get rid of it. I liked this scene and how it played slightly with the visuals which foreshadowed the inclusion of drugs and their effects later on in the movie.  Sadly with what happens to Dani’s family in the first act, I’m not sure it was that purposeful overall, despite liking how it was depicted. Yes, this event does explain how Dani acts for sections of the film and yes I did like seeing it act as a catalyst for why she goes to Sweden in the first place, but I’m not sure it was hugely purposeful when referring to the movie as a whole. It never came back in a way that affected the narrative or the story that was being told. It was just something that happened to the protagonist that caused her a great deal of upset. Almost as if they could have died in any number of terrible circumstances and it wouldn’t have made a difference. While I really liked the characters’ first drug trip sequence, I got worried early on that Midsommar was going to take an approach that put the trips and the drugs at the forefront of the movie, akin to something like Shrooms (which was just awful) and sure, they played a big part but it did more to enhance what was actually happening rather than fabricate a story that didn’t really take place, just to have them wake up in a field exclaiming how crazy their collective trip was.

As the characters start to become more and more under the influence through the drugs that they’re given, we see the world warp around them. Trees ripple and form faces; the food would shift; flowers would pulse in accordance to Dani’s breathing; characters’ facial features would distort. Dani starts seeing grass sprouting from her hands and feet, or vines mimicking her movements to show how she’s progressively becoming part of this society. Characters like Christian however start experiencing the drugs in a negative and more aggressive way, as if they’re being attacked by senses! There is unease and terror in how Christian experiences the festival, whereas Dani’s experience is comparatively happier. The contrast of how Dani was being accepted and Christian was being rejected was thrilling to see, markedly in how Dani’s demeanour changed as she found herself integrating with everyone else. Although I must say I’m not sure why they kept drinking that drugged water that looked like muddy urine. Christian almost refuses to drink it until he’s told “it’s spring water with special properties” which was all the information he needed apparently! What properties were they? Doesn’t matter; he drank it anyway. The moronic decisions manage to manifest more throughout the movie, however. Regrettably we don’t get to see much of Mark and Josh’s experience with the hallucinogens or even much of the festival because their time is cut short in a manner I didn’t find all too entertaining. Mark is the first to go from the original team. Due to urinating on a sacred tree, he is murdered off-screen and has his face cut off. This could’ve made for a superb scene if it were done right but the way it was handled came across as hollow. Elements akin to this could have worked to convey unease and terror, but they are implied rather than shown which can work in some circumstances but I would’ve liked to have seen something more memorable and haunting instead of seeing an after-product and thinking “okay well I guess that happened”. Show him being mutilated, you cowards! You don’t even have to show it; just possibly what happens in the lead up! It would’ve made for a far more compelling story beat! All that happens is a girl comes up to him as he’s eating with everyone and asks to show him something. His response is just  “she’s gonna show me” and leaves. He doesn’t question what he’s about to be shown; he just gets up and wanders off with a girl he doesn’t know in a foreign country, going purely off of Pelle’s word that everyone there is great! What a way to force that in! Josh is next on the kill list because he took some pictures of a sacred book when he knew he wasn’t supposed to because either he’s just insensitive to other peoples’ cultures, or he thinks it’s okay as long as it’s for his thesis. After this happened I kind of dropped off. With most of my favourite characters gone and the remaining characters questioning everything less and less, not only was there not much left to ground the film in a world that would consider the things that were happening to be deeply disturbing, but also from the protagonists’ perspectives as well.

I’ll acknowledge I’ve been railing on this film a considerable amount... with good reason. But despite being heavy on the criticisms, I still consider Midsommar to be a good, even great movie! I adore films that beg me to revisit them and learn more about them with each watch. Sprinkled throughout Midsommar are a tonne of small details and I’m sure I didn’t pick up on everything; in fact I hope I didn’t. Along with strange “what the hell?” moments like putting scissors under the baby’s pillow (I think that’s what it was anyway) that I still don’t understand, there also exists things that maybe don’t need to be thought about but are still nice to see included, such as goats and cows that took the immersion into this countryside village a notch higher. Or to draw from more obvious details that add depth to the people: going back to how they would all scream in unison, for instance to empathise with another’s emotions; when Dani sees Christian cheating on her, all the girls she is with cry and scream with her, possibly to experience what she’s feeling and/or to show her that they consider her to be part of their people, which also manages to contrast with earlier in the movie wherein she’s with Christian in her apartment but she’s the only one experiencing the intense pain as Christian tries to comfort her.

Upon entering the third act I started to wonder what the actual point in Midsommar was. Could it possibly be one big metaphor for grief and how we can choose to deal with it? There didn’t seem to be that grand of a point being made, either in the relationship between Dani and Christian, the relationship between America and Europe, or just the presence or influence of cults and religion in different parts of the world; those ideas seemed somewhat surface level. So I can’t help but think it was trying to convey a more metaphorical meaning. Either that or its meaning was just “Europe’s weird, man”. In this way, the finale didn’t leave much of an impact besides leaving me feeling quite hollow and disappointed, wondering what all that had been in service to.  I can’t say Midsommar blew me away with much of what it showed me. There were a few decisions made which weren’t all that original in how they were executed and there were some dumb moments that had me questioning why they were included at all. Yet I would never say it isn’t unique in what it achieves; I can’t disregard all of the jaw-dropping technical showmanship and the interesting, creepy ideas that managed to meld horror and suspense and mystery and comedy into something I simply don’t know how to categorise. I could talk for ages about this film and still not touch on absolutely everything about it. Ari Aster is clearly a talented guy and I can’t wait to pick up the blu-ray and watch it a million more times. Along with that, I am for sure going to see whatever he puts out next. These are the kind of movies I love seeing and supporting and I honestly can’t recommend Midsommar enough because it’s something I feel will resonate with different people in different ways, evoking more than a few interpretations of it. It is so worth the watch.

★★★½