#and Recycle Content for Bigger Reach

[rjzimmerman]

Is Your Water Bottle Really Made From Recycled Plastic? (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

The plastic CamelBak bottles displayed in a Target in East Hanover, N.J., offer a promise to ecologically conscious buyers. On the front of each is a bright blue sticker with the words “Tritan Renew made with 50% recycled material.”

In reality, however, the amount of recycled plastic that went into making the bottles may be nowhere near 50 percent.

Eastman Chemical, a company with $9.2 billion in annual revenues based in Kingsport, Tenn., introduced the durable plastic called Tritan Renew four years ago, telling manufacturers that it was made with “up to 50 percent recycled content from waste plastic.” It quickly caught on with companies trying to reach their sustainability goals or eager to appeal to consumers who want to keep plastics out of landfills and oceans.

Dozens of brands now use the material. CamelBak and Nalgene use it in sports water bottles. Ferragamo offers Tritan Renew sunglasses. Stanley Black & Decker even made a new power tool line called Reviva from the plastic. But there is no guarantee that any particular bottle, pair of sunglasses or power tool actually contains recycled plastic.

“It could be a very low percentage that is physically in there; it could be a high percentage,” said C. Jason Pierce, a senior technical leader for the Circular Economy and Life Cycle Assessment at Eastman Chemical, when asked this spring about the amount of recycled plastic in Tritan Renew that is used to make water bottles sold by CamelBak and others. “You can’t know how much.”

So how does Eastman make its claim that Tritan Renew contains up to 50 percent recycled material? It uses a green certification system called “mass balance.”

That methodology allows companies like Eastman to build up credits for recycling plastic and then apply them to the manufacture of any number of products, regardless of how much recycled material they contain. (More on this later.)

Critics argue that mass balance accounting opens the door to corporate greenwashing and creates a system where consumers don’t know whether or how much recycled material was used in products that claim to be sustainable or “green.”

“If you divorce the recycled content from the physical product, and just start using these accounting schemes, you destroy consumer confidence in recycling,” said Lee Bell, a policy adviser to the International Pollutants Elimination Network, a global network of advocacy groups that works on pollution issues. “It effectively destroys truth in labeling.”

That view, the company argues, takes too narrow a perspective. Consumers can be assured “that they are directly supporting recycling that really did happen,” Mr. Pierce said. “Materials that would have otherwise gone to the landfill or incinerator are being recycled. It’s just a little bit of a different way of thinking about recycling. More of a bigger picture or systems view of it. ”

To grasp what mass balance accounting entails, you first have to know a bit about the two methods of plastic recycling.

The first, which has been around for decades, involves sorting, washing, shredding and melting down plastic waste and reshaping it into pellets. Much of the recycled plastic produced by this method, called mechanical recycling, is of lesser quality than the original. And only certain types of plastics can be recycled mechanically.

The second, newer method, chemical recycling, is an energy-intensive process that typically uses high temperatures, pressurization and chemical solvents or other chemical processes not to simply melt plastic but to break it down into its chemical building blocks. The recycled chemicals are then mixed with all sorts of other materials, including fossil-fuel-derived virgin plastic, to make new products.

This year, Eastman began operating one of the largest chemical plastic recycling plants in the world. Near the company’s headquarters in Tennessee, the plant uses methanol, heat and pressure to transform plastic waste. It takes plastics not accepted in most curbside recycling programs, like clamshell containers, colored plastics used in food and beverage packaging, and plastic fibers used in carpets and textiles.

Eastman wants to be able to market as recycled the products made with this material. But while it’s theoretically possible to physically track plastic pellets from recycled water bottles to a new life as plastic lawn furniture, it’s virtually impossible to trace basic chemicals dissolved from plastic waste and mixed with other materials to any particular batch of plastic products.

[quilthegreat]

Cut Content for Cute Humans!

just gonna hop on here rlly quickly before bed and post some bonus cut-content from Crash & Burn! (& warning for android gore =P ) didn't think there was enough in here to warrant their own bonus chapter on the Fic's AO3, since i only started cataloguing cut content halfway through writing it (o7 lost scenes, fly high) but still kinda liked some piece-meal from the bitties hiding in here sooo-- ENJOY

(ordered by when i cut them out NOT by chronological order) (also if you recognise any of this it's cause i recycled some in PBP =] remember kids-- reduce reuse recycle! \o/ )

CRASH & BURN:

------

And all at once there is an eruption of squealing, hissing static from in front of him and Connor is twitching wildly, looking far too close to how a seizure would in a human, his chest trying to heave but unable to take more than a weak gasp with a sickly metallic grinding sound. His LED begins strobing frantically, whiplashing between bright, a too bright blood red and terrifyingly close to blank.

“Connor! You’ll hurt yourself, you gotta keep still!” He reaches out and pushes a hand to Connor’s bowed cheek. It’s cold, even for an android, and slicked with far too much Thirium that sticks to Hank’s palm as he lifts Connor’s head with a gentle but firm grip to finally get a good look at his face.

------

A painful and long pause follows, and Hank simply can’t give the fucks to break it.

Eventually dragging his heavy eyelids back open, Hank’s gaze is magnetically drawn to where Connor lies, still gripped by shuddering spasms, sporadically gripped by a full-body convulsion that sends his back arching from the floor until he's supported only on his shoulders and ankles. Each time, a gut-wrenching shrieking noise rips itself from the android’s throat.

Occasionally, Hank catches a glimpse his now screwed-shut eyes and feels sick.

------

If there's one thing Hank's learned from his years in the Red Ice division, it's that the newer and more influential the drug-lord, the exponentially bigger the ego that accompanies.

------

And all of a sudden, Connor is writhing against the wall with frenzied desperation, head throwing back into the concrete with a sickly crack and a choking squeal of inhuman noise that makes Hank's gut twist. Bubbles of Thirium froth at the corner of his mouth and run down his cheek, sickly blue against the translucent paleness of his artificial skin.

Behind him, Hank hears a sharp gasp from Person, but he doesn't have the time to pay it any mind. Diving forward, he grabs at (seriously, me, how many times are you gonna try & rewrite this same scene LOL)

------

<3

check out the actual Fic here!--

[eliasrowan]

Your Last Reel Flopped — Now What?

You crafted a killer reel. You added trending audio. You even nailed the captions. And yet... 12 views. 1 like (probably your friend). No shares. No comments.

Let’s be real — it stings.

But here’s the good news: one flopped reel doesn’t define your brand. In fact, it's part of the process. At Marketingodus, we see this all the time — even with brands that eventually go viral.

Here’s how you bounce back — and better.

🔁 1. Audit Without Overreacting

Before you delete the post out of frustration, take a step back and analyze:

Was the hook compelling?

Did it offer value in the first 3 seconds?

Was it optimized for mobile viewing?

Did you post at the right time for your audience?

Reels are driven by micro-moments. Missing even one can tank performance. That doesn’t mean your content was bad — it means the delivery can be improved.

🎯 2. Repost — Yes, Really

Your reel didn't go viral — not because it wasn’t good — but maybe it wasn’t seen. If you believe in the content, re-edit and repost:

Change the thumbnail

Switch the audio

Use different hashtags

Post at a new time

Even big brands recycle content — they just remix it.

💡 3. Shift From Views to Value

Not every piece needs to blow up. Some content is for:

Building trust

Showing personality

Educating your audience

Creating consistency

The algorithm isn’t always kind, but your audience is watching. Keep showing up.

📊 4. Check Your Strategy, Not Just the Reel

Sometimes a failed post reveals a deeper issue:

Are you attracting the wrong audience?

Are you too trend-reliant and not brand-relevant?

Are you consistent or just posting randomly?

A solid digital content strategy aligns every reel, post, and caption with a bigger goal. That’s where we come in. At Marketingodus, we don’t just make content — we create movement.

🔥 5. Turn Flops Into Fuel

Use the failure as feedback. One flop could lead to your biggest win — if you adapt.

Remember: Instagram isn’t a popularity contest. It’s a platform. And platforms favor the bold, the consistent, and the strategic.

🧠 Final Thoughts from Marketingodus

We’ve helped countless creators, brands, and businesses recover from digital disappointments and bounce back stronger. A flopped reel isn’t a red flag — it’s a lesson plan.

If you’re tired of the guessing game and want to turn your next reel into results, let’s talk.

📩 Reach out at info@marketingodus.com 📱 Or DM us on Instagram: @marketingodus

[birkcreative]

How To Launch Google Shopping For Your Business

How we established Google Shopping for 7M Woodworking, a thriving local, retail business.

In 7M Woodworking, founder Paul Miller turned a hobby into a passion. The Chicago-based business brings natural beauty into homes and other spaces, with pieces made from reclaimed, recycled, and refurbished wood.

7M turned to Birk Creative after struggling with its online advertising. Miller and his team were spending more time and more money, but not seeing the results. It was time to lay a new foundation and build a roadmap for 7M’s success online as a small business.

The Process

First, we took a deep dive into 7M’s day-to-day, familiarizing ourselves with its products and key audiences through a discovery. We conducted a thorough audit — a full-scale review of all components of their digital program: website, social media channels, content, visuals, brand identity and messaging, and Google advertising. Birk Creative’s analysis focused on evaluating execution against best practices and identifying opportunities to guide our recommendations.

We quickly found that 7M’s advertising challenges were symptomatic of bigger inefficiencies and gaps within its entire digital ecosystem. They needed new content, new messaging to go up against clients as big as Walmart, and a new strategy for advertising, with better targeting and copywriting. One of our most impactful findings was that 7M was advertising on the wrong Google platform, and Birk Creative migrated them to Google Shopping, which offers personalized shopping suggestions and directs customers to purchase products through Google, a third-party site, or in-store.

Not only did we make data-informed recommendations, we helped see them through. A photoshoot, mood boards, interviews, social media strategy, and custom videos brought 7M into the next chapter of its digital program, with the tools they need to create strategy-aligned content. In addition to the Google Shopping migration, we also integrated Yoast SEO into their website’s back-end, making it simple to attract more visitors.

The Results

Birk Creative’s recommendations and implementation support was only the beginning. With training and additional one-on-one consultations — on top of new strategies for telling the 7M story, and smart tactics for reaching the right audiences — 7M is poised for digital success, and ready to make the most of its marketing.

Are you a small business owner who’s ready to take your digital program to the next level? We offer the above solutions as our Small Business Online Transformation for $15,000. Start the conversation today.

[saypanthepackagingdesign]

Saypan Snacks Packaging Design Capturing Hearts, One Package at a Time

In today's fast-paced world, snacks have become an integral part of our daily lives, satisfying our cravings on the go. But beyond the irresistible taste lies an often-overlooked aspect that significantly impacts consumer choices: packaging design. As we step into 2024, the landscape of snacks packaging design continues to evolve, blending creativity, functionality, and sustainability to captivate consumers and drive sales.

Target Audience for this Report: This report is targeted towards food industry professionals, marketers, designers, and anyone interested in understanding the latest trends and innovations in snacks packaging design.

Key Takeaways:

Innovative Materials: Snacks packaging design in 2024 embraces eco-friendly materials like bioplastics, compostable films, and recycled paper to reduce environmental impact.

Functional Design: Convenience is king. Packaging designs incorporate resealable features, easy-open mechanisms, and portion control to enhance user experience.

Bold Branding: Brands are leveraging vibrant colors, bold typography, and eye-catching graphics to stand out on crowded shelves and create lasting impressions.

Personalization: Customized packaging allows brands to connect with consumers on a deeper level, offering personalized messages, images, or even names on the packaging.

Health Consciousness: Transparent packaging showcases product quality and nutritional information, catering to the growing demand for healthier snack options.

Interactive Elements: Augmented reality (AR) and QR codes are integrated into packaging, offering interactive experiences and engaging storytelling.

Latest Trends in Snacks Packaging Design:

Minimalist Design: Simple, clean packaging designs with minimalistic aesthetics are gaining popularity, reflecting a focus on purity and authenticity.

Biodegradable Packaging: Brands are shifting towards biodegradable packaging solutions, aligning with consumer preferences for sustainability and environmental responsibility.

Texture Exploration: Packaging designs incorporate tactile elements, such as embossing or textured finishes, to enhance sensory experiences and create memorable interactions.

Storytelling Packaging: Brands are using packaging as a storytelling tool, sharing their journey, values, and mission to connect with consumers on an emotional level.

Smart Packaging: Intelligent packaging solutions equipped with sensors or indicators to ensure product freshness and safety are emerging to meet consumer demand for quality assurance.

Reusable Packaging: Reusable snack packaging options are gaining traction, encouraging consumers to reduce waste and adopt more sustainable consumption habits.

Important Notes:

As consumers become more environmentally conscious, brands must prioritize sustainability in their packaging designs to stay relevant and competitive.

Collaboration between packaging designers, manufacturers, and brands is essential to drive innovation and create impactful solutions that meet consumer needs.

Regularly updating packaging designs to reflect changing consumer preferences and market trends is crucial for maintaining brand relevance and loyalty.

Innovative Branding & Packaging by Saypan - Learn More @ https://saypan.in/our-services/

Humanized Content: Imagine reaching for your favorite snack, not just for its delicious taste, but also for the delightful experience of unwrapping a beautifully designed package that resonates with your values. In 2024, snacks packaging design goes beyond mere functionality; it tells a story, reflects a commitment to sustainability, and invites you to be part of something bigger than just a quick snack break.

As you browse through the aisles of your local grocery store, you're greeted by a plethora of snacks, each vying for your attention. But it's not just about what's inside the package; it's the packaging itself that speaks volumes. From vibrant colors that pop off the shelves to tactile textures that invite touch, every element is carefully crafted to entice and engage.

But it's not all about aesthetics. In today's health-conscious world, consumers want more than just a tasty treat – they want transparency. That's why brands are increasingly opting for transparent packaging that allows you to see exactly what you're getting, from the wholesome ingredients to the nutritional content.

And it's not just about what's on the outside; it's also about what's on the inside. Brands are using packaging as a canvas to share their stories, values, and missions with consumers, forging deeper connections and fostering brand loyalty.

But perhaps most importantly, snacks packaging design in 2024 is about sustainability. As our planet faces unprecedented challenges, consumers are demanding eco-friendly solutions, and brands are listening. From biodegradable materials to reusable packaging options, the snacks of the future are as good for the planet as they are for your taste buds.

In conclusion, the evolution of snacks packaging design in 2024 is a testament to the ever-changing needs and desires of consumers. From innovative materials to interactive experiences, brands are embracing creativity and sustainability to create packaging that not only protects and preserves but also delights and inspires. So the next time you reach for a snack, take a moment to appreciate the thought and care that went into its packaging – because sometimes, the outside is just as important as the inside.

Contact us

Phone : +91 96657 20007,​ +91 87672 11111​

Email : info@saypan.in​

Website: https://saypan.in/

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[brooklynmuseum]

How can art be a form of activism? How can art help us imagine a more just, more compassionate future?

These are heady questions to consider, and it’s exactly these questions that a group of students from The Family Health Centers at NYU Langone, Project Reach Youth considered last spring. Over the course of six sessions, students enrolled in Adult Basic Education, High School Equivalency, and English for Speakers of Other Languages classes came together to build community and consider works of art. Led by Brooklyn Museum staff as well as A.R.T. Guides, these discussions considered Wadsworth A. Jarrell's Revolutionary (Angela Davis), Linda Haukass's Quilling Society, Yang Yongliang's On the Quiet Water - Underwater Paradise, Albert Bierstadt's A Storm in the Rocky Mountains, Mt. Rosalie, Lorraine O'Grady's Landscapes (Western Hemisphere), and a Yoruba Masquerade Dance Garment (paka egúngún). Students also identified works of art that they felt helped answer these overarching questions, and shared their visual analysis and research with the class. 

At the end of the project, students could opt to share information and reflections on their objects in a video that would be shared with NYU Langone, the students, and their families and friends. Below are a few transcript excerpts from the film, in which students reflect on what drew them to the object they chose, what they learned about the object, and how it relates to the theme of the series:

"[I was drawn to this object] because of the designs of what it was like back then and what they had to do to survive. It shows what they overcame back then and what we are striving for now." - Elijah Smart, discussing a Native Alaskan Engraved Whale Tooth

"I saw lots of precious images from the Brooklyn Museum’s collection online, among these collections I was most interested in an engraved whale tooth. The whale tooth was around the size of a palm with patterns carving on it...This piece was made in the 19th century... As the time changed, with the development of the business, people’s lives have been changed enormously, and many people were hunting the whales... At the same time, pollution came with the development of roads and the demolishment of forests. Waters, lands and even creatures on the whole planet were under threat.... So, we must do these things (protecting the animals and the planet). We should do more on reducing the environmental pollution, reusing and recycling. At least, we should work hard to do something for the earth and the place where we live together and I wish that we could stay in harmony with the nature, so that there won’t be the virus affecting people’s lives, like right now. This is how I understand the piece." - Anita Lin, discussing a Native Alaskan Engraved Whale Tooth

""I was astonished when I first saw this piece... It was perfect as a whole. Then I saw the content (of the piece) was a woman giving birth to many lives under the ground. From the background, I could see the sun, the water, and I could see all of these, which mean the mother of the nature, from this piece. I could also see the harmony between human beings and the nature from this piece. At the same time, I saw many Black people planting corns under the sun. In general, I was very impressed by this piece. People need to adapt to the nature, and everything should be based on the mother of nature." - Sun Xiaofen, discussing John Biggers' Web of Life

Posted by Christina Marinelli

Native Alaskan. Engraved Whale Tooth, late 19th century. Sperm whale tooth, black ash or graphite, oil, 6 1/2 x 3 x 2 in. (16.5 x 7.6 x 5.1 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Robert B. Woodward, 20.895. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 20.895_left.jpg)

[starmieknight]

Trust: Priceless

Summary: Jeongguk's new owner decides to take him out shopping and he comes closer to changing his opinion of her.

Contents: Hybrid!BTS, Jeongguk is a bit of a brat (he has his reasons), Mavis is out of her element, RabbitHybrid!Jeongguk(?)

Mavis poked her head into the living room and peered silently at Jeongguk.

 The hybrid continued watching the TV like he didn’t notice her presence, only the twitching of his long ear betraying him. Mavis still hesitated, her face an unreadable mask as she observed the situation.

 Jeongguk looked bored out of his mind, no doubt tired of only having television to watch after three days in her new home. As a kid, Mavis had gotten a thrill from being able to watch cable when she visited her aunt instead of just satellite TV, but she had been an easily entertained child and not as energetic as Jeongguk seemed.

 When she asked, her hotel manager, Dobbs, had told her that Jeongguk had yet to use any of the hotel facilities Mavis had told him he was free to at any time, no questions asked. Mavis personally wanted to use the indoor pool, but hadn’t found the time or energy to head down there. But even if he wasn’t interested in the pool, there were basketball and tennis courts, bike trails, a hedge maze and an entire arcade in the hotel for Jeongguk to use.

 As far as Mavis could tell, the only thing holding Jeongguk back from finding something to entertain himself was the fact that other than himself, there weren’t many hybrids to be found in the Mountainview Hotel. And even then, not many of the guests brought their hybrids along with them when they vacationed or took their business trips. If Mavis was being honest and allowed her professionalism to lapse some, the hybrids brought along by the higher class guests were rather… bratty. In the way that some spoiled children seemed.

 She was sure that they weren’t all bad, but the way your actions are perceived by family and friends often differs from the way you’re seen by strangers.

 Even Jeongguk probably seemed bratty to everyone else.

 Mavis had to admit, the way he was grouching reminded her of a preteen determined to not have fun on a family trip and trying to make everyone else as miserable as he was.

 But she couldn’t fault him for it. She’d be angry too if her whole life was flipped upside down and she was told she now had to live with a stranger and abide by their rules if they wanted to live. For Jeongguk, her ownership could be considered the equivalent of prison while she only felt like she had custody of a child that would need a lifetime of her care.

 But even so, life went on and he had to interact with her some time.

 And going grocery shopping and clothes shopping was the first way they were going to have to do it.

 “Jeongguk,” Mavis called finally, making the hybrid freeze as he waited for her to speak. His eyes remained on the TV even as his ears tilted towards her. “We need to go out. I want to stock up the kitchen and we’ll need to fluff up your wardrobe. I’m sure it’s got to be tiring recycling the same plain clothes every day.”

 “White T-shirts are my style.” Jeongguk said flatly. Mavis could only see a fraction of his face from that angle, but she could easily make out the scowl that marred his features.

 Internally she winced. Outwardly, she only raised an eyebrow.

 “Then I’ll buy you however many you like. But that doesn’t change the fact that the constant wearing and washing is going to wear them down to rags before long.” She walked in between him and the TV, forcing him to look at her. She offered a quirk of her lips in lieu of a smile. “Besides, we can try somewhere new to eat while we’re out. You can pick the place.”

 Jeongguk looked put out with her presence, but seemed interested in the idea of food. "Fine."

 Mavis smiled encouragingly and offered him a jacket, thankful that she had preferred to buy jackets from the men's section when she still lived in the city. They always seemed thicker, even if they didn't always match the rest of her outfits' styles, and Mavis loved to wear her clothes with sleeves a size or three bigger. They were comfortable and offered her a bigger sense of protection somehow.

 Besides, she thought the whole sweater paws concept was very cute.

 Jeongguk scowled but accepted the jacket. His hybrid side wasn't exactly built for cold weather, even if he was in denial even to himself about the truth of his species. He loathed to wear anything that carried Mavis' scent. The cabin was barely bearable,  only the fact that she had just moved in and spent little time there since putting him at ease. Jeongguk had secretly been going around the cabin and scenting what he could, keeping in mind the fact that Mavis informed him that there would be more hybrids coming at some point. He wanted all of them to know that he was the original, even if he didn't care for their owner.

 Jeongguk stayed silent for their short trip to the garage, making Mavis feel a bit nervous. She always hated having people walk behind her where she couldn't see them. It made her self conscious and messed with her sense of security. Typically, she would have slowed down her pace to match his, but thought it would be a bad idea to force Jeongguk to be too close to her. Plus, he didn't know where the garage was and she did.

 And again, going into the garage made Mavis' brain short circuit for a moment at the extravagance of it. Had her grandfather really needed so many vehicles?

 Jeongguk let out a long, low whistle at the sight. His expression finally changed from indifference to awe.

 He knew his new owner was loaded, but this was a rich chick for sure. 

 Mavis hid her smile at the look of awe on his face and considered her options.

 She wanted to take her own car. She was familiar with it and loved it, having bought it all on her own. It wasn't anything new or flashy, but there was pride in driving something you worked hard for. But she knew it wasn't going to be large enough to hold everything they were out to buy today.

 Mavis eyed the collection of SUVs, immediately disregarding the ones meant for show or mud riding and decided that the plain, white one with a hatchback was her best choice. Surely they could lay the seats down for more room.

 "Do you have a driver's license, Jeongguk?" she asked, noticing his fascination with a bright blue sports car she was too afraid to even think of driving.

 "I'm a hybrid."

 Mavis shrugged. "That doesn't mean you can't have a driver's license. Independent Hybrids are capable of obtaining them and Owned Hybrids are as well, though I'm sure there's quite a bit of paperwork to go through. We can get you one, if you like, and I'll add you to my insurance so you can drive any car in here that you like."

 Jeongguk stared at her like Mavis had been speaking a dead language instead of offering him more independence. He frowned, unsure of her motives. Did she want him to run off and disappear so she'd have a reason to give him up and not feel guilty over his death. "I'd rather not." 

 Mavis sighed, but allowed the matter to drop. Instead, she moved over to the peg board where all the keys were stored to get the keys to the SUV. If she liked the car well enough for grocery shopping, she might even add its key to her key chain.

 She was a bit surprised when Jeongguk tried to climb into the backseat instead of the passenger side and forgot herself for a moment when she reached into the backseat to stop him. They both looked at her outstretched hand incredulously.

“We’ll need the space for our groceries.” she said quietly, clearing her throat in an attempt to also clear out the awkwardness of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at the close call, having promised herself that any contact the two of them shared would be on Jeongguk’s terms. She never wanted to pressure him, even if it meant they never got more than a foot closer to each other.

 “You… want me to ride in the front seat? With you?” Jeongguk sounded unsure for once. He eyed her hand like a rabbit facing a snake, making Mavis realize that she’d never dropped it.

 She stepped back, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked for the button that would lay the backseat down. “Of course.”

 Jeongguk looked like he wanted to argue, but merely followed Mavis’ lead and pushed the button on his side, the two of them working together to transform the backseat into a better storage area.

 When they were done, he climbed into the passenger’s seat silently, buckling up and fixing his eyes on the window.

 The SUV was really too much for her to handle at first, especially the fact that her key… wasn’t really a key and more of a fob.

 It took her a moment to actually get the car started, not used to having to press a button instead of turning a key. Jeongguk even turned his head from the window to look at her judgmentally.

 “Doesn’t your chauffeur usually pick you up?” he asked, unable to help himself from asking. He wondered if she was trying to show off for him by taking him out herself. It wasn’t working.

 Mavis’ brow furrowed as she tried to figure out the car’s features, carefully trying to get the Bluetooth to work before she tried to drive. She wasn’t familiar with the good radio stations in the area yet and couldn’t stand driving in silence, let alone the awkward one that always came with Jeongguk’s presence. “I’m sure that Cooper would have one waiting if I asked, but I’ve never used a chauffeur before.”

 Jeongguk stared. “I thought rich people never drove anywhere themselves.”

 Mavis snorted and shrugged. “I dunno about that. I’m new to all this, myself. I didn’t really see my grandfather all that often after my great-grandparents passed - there was never a reason to - so my lifestyle was much more humble than all this.” she frowned. “It’s rather unsettling if I’m being honest.”

 Jeongguk wanted to ask why she had little reason to see her family. Did someone need a reason to go see the people they were supposed to spend their lives surrounded by? But it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know about her personal life. Really.

 Even if the question as to why she was unaccustomed to this life was a burning one. She seemed like she had a handle on things and carried herself like a strong and smart business woman with a flourishing hotel and lavish life behind her. He didn’t wonder what she was like before, what she might have been if she didn’t suddenly drop into his life as his newest owner.

 Jeongguk turned back to the window and swallowed his questions.

 After getting her phone connected to the SUV’s Bluetooth (which took more brainpower than she was willing to admit), Mavis opened her Spotify and handed her phone over to Jeongguk.

 “You can play whatever you like.” she told him as she pressed the button on her keyring to open the garage door. “I may need to pull up the GPS to find the grocery store after we get into the city. Though, I think I can use the car’s map system instead of my phone…” Mavis frowned thoughtfully at the display before pulling out of the garage. She paused briefly to shut the door again before heading down the driveway and towards the exit to the hotel grounds.

 She couldn’t help but slow down to give the sprawling building a worried look as she passed, much like a new mother leaving her newborn with someone else for the first time.

 The hotel wasn’t on fire and would still be intact when she got back. They’d managed without her there before and they could do it again.

 … now if only she could convince herself of that.

 Mavis waved at the security guard as he let them out, and Jeongguk finally settled on a song as they left the gates.

 A low, bass beat began thrumming through the SUV and its passengers were silent, only the voice of the track’s vocalist filling the space between them.

 Fortunately for Mavis, the car system’s GPS pulled up easily enough and getting on the highway to the city was simple enough. If they were only going for grocery shopping, Mavis would have headed in the opposite direction for the little town that was a bit closer. She had passed through it the first time she’d made the trip up the mountain to the hotel and found it to be very similar to her own hometown, if a bit newer.

 But today she had lots of things in mind to get for the cabin - for both her and Jeongguk - and so they would be getting their groceries from a large chain grocery store instead.

 When the music came to a sudden stop, Mavis and Jeongguk both looked at the Bluetooth display in bewilderment. Jeongguk checked Mavis’ phone and frowned at the name. It seemed strangely familiar to him.

 “It’s Cooper calling.” he told Mavis flatly, trying to hand the phone over.

 She waved him off, not confident in driving and holding the phone at the same time, and accepted the call through the SUV’s Bluetooth.

 There was a beat of silence after the phone connected.

 “Hello? Ms. Attmore?” Cooper’s slightly staticky voice filled the cab. He sounded nervous.

 Mavis hid her amused grin even though Cooper couldn’t see her. It was still funny to her that she was intimidating now. Especially after leaving a job where the people in her care screamed and swatted at her all day long (she missed her toddler class dearly).

 The power was a little intoxicating.

 “Good morning, Cooper.” Mavis said, sliding into her Boss Lady voice. Even her driving smoothed out, her shoulders straightening and her confidence growing.

 Jeongguk did a double take, having grown used to a reserved and almost timid Mavis. This person in the car with him now was the same Ms. Attmore he had met the first day she arrived at the Mountain View.

 His ears perked up and his nostrils flared, becoming more attentive of her instinctively. He was curious about this side of her personality.

 “Good morning, Ma’am!” Cooper said more brightly. “I was just calling to check in with you. Has the cabin been to your liking? I know it’s been a few days and I was wondering when you’d like me to send the housekeeping service out?”

 Mavis tapped her fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I suppose today would be fine. I’m taking Jeongguk out to pick out some clothes and things for his room.” She glanced over at the Hybrid in question. “Would you like them to straighten your room up a bit, or would that be too uncomfortable?” Mavis lowered her voice a bit to keep it off the call.

 Jeongguk hesitated, not used to having so much agency over his own space.

 After spending so long in the underground fighting rings, having privacy and personal belongings of his own was a foreign concept. He knew to leave Mavis’ belongings alone, but had just expected her to do as she pleased with the things she had given to him.

 “I can clean my own room.” Jeongguk said slowly, watching for any adverse reaction.

 Mavis just nodded and raised her voice to address Cooper again. “Have them skip Jeongguk’s room for now. And can you ask them to skip the floral scented stuff? It gives me a headache…”

 “Would a citrus scent be more preferable, Ma’am?” Cooper asked anxiously.

 “That’s fine. But no coconut or pineapple or mango, please. They make me feel ill.”

 “I’ll tell the housekeeper to use an orange or lemon scent from now on, Ma’am.” Cooper promised. Mavis could almost see him in her mind’s eye, scribbling furiously in his planner to keep her preferences marked down for future reference.

 “Thank you.” Mavis allowed a small smile to cross her face before it was replaced with a thoughtful frown. “One more thing, Cooper - would you mind adding another smartphone to my plan?”

 “Of course, Ma’am!” Cooper said eagerly. “Do you have any preferences for color or brand?”

 Mavis shrugged. “It’s for Jeongguk. I’ll have to let you ask him.” She nodded at Jeongguk, wordlessly telling him to go ahead and give Cooper the word.

 The Hybrid froze, looking at Mavis like a frightened rabbit.

 She offered him a more sincere smile, trying to be as encouraging as she could. “It’s okay.” she whispered. “If you don’t know what you like best yet, you can get a phone like mine in whatever color you want.”

 “... the same phone as Ms. Attmore.” Jeongguk said hesitantly, voice just barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. “In purple?”

 “You catch that, Cooper?” Mavis asked, wanting to make sure Jeongguk got exactly what he wanted.

 “Should that be a light purple or a dark?” the assistant clarified.

 “Either is fine.” Jeonggiuk said, a bit more confidently this time.

 “I’ll have it waiting for you when you return home!” Cooper said brightly, happy to finally have something to do for Mavis. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

 “I think that covers it for now, Cooper.” Mavis reassured him. “I may need your help arranging deliveries for our bigger items when we get to the store.”

 “I’ll be waiting for your call!”

 “Thank you,” Mavis reached over to end the call. “Have a good day.”

 Jeongguk continued to watch her, no longer trying to ignore her, even after the music resumed on their way to the city.

 She was tolerable for the moment, maybe even agreeable after a long period of time, but he would still keep an eye out for any signs that it was all an act.

 After all, a hybrid still couldn’t trust a human.

_________________

CHECK OUT MY COMMISSIONS INFO HERE (WRITING COMMISSIONS AVAILABLE)

[anonymous0writer]

Truth Or Dare

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Requested: Yes!

“Hey I had a request for a JJ x reader fic where the pogues are playing truth or dare and John b knows that someone’s been screwing around in his van so he asks JJ who not only confirms it was him but drags the reader down under the bus with him”

Warnings: Very light mentions of sex. Underage drinking. 

Summary: You and JJ have been messing around for a long time. And tonight's a night for truth.

A/N: I’m trying something different, by writing in third person.(I only did that in the beginning. I know I switch the narrative a little bit and I’m sorry for that! I hope it made sense!) Also this is much longer that it needed to be! Thank you anon! :)

This fic is dedicated to @jayjaymaebank​! Love you Kier!! <3

I am getting through all the requests! I promise! And I’m so sorry I’m not getting them out fast! I know you’re probably mad at me and I’m sorry! 

JJ Maybank was a boy known to have any girl he wants. However, there was one that he never thought he would have. That girl was Y/N Y/L/N. 

To JJ, she was perfect. Tan skin from days surfing and swimming. Bright, happy eyes that glowed in the sunlight. A smile that would light up the room and make everyone in a two mile radius smile too. A laugh that sounded like wedding bells and was highly contagious. A sense of humor that topped his own, a vibe that was even better than his. A wild side that made JJ catch his breath every time. A personality that had everyone falling in love.

And he never thought he’d have you. 

Until two months ago. When you had stumbled into him at a Boneyard party, seemingly drunk. (You were really just laughing too hard at Pope’s comment to think straight. But in fairness, you had two drinks, but you had a good immunity to alcohol, so you weren’t fazed.) You had grinned at the blue eyed boy, making him soften. 

“JJ! There’s my favorite boy!” You laughed. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” 

You were feeling very bold that night, and upon feeling this way, you confessed your feeling. Admittedly, the presentation of them was like a joke, but still. Your heart still clenched and you still held you breath. 

“What?” JJ sputtered, caught off guard at the words he’d ached for you to say for almost a full year. 

“I’m in love with you.” You said more seriously, your eyes flickering with something JJ couldn’t place. 

JJ being JJ kissed your cheek and nodded. “Alright, Ms. Alcohol.” His blue eyes danced with amusement mixed with sadness. 

But you frowned, shaking your head. He didn’t understand. You weren’t drunk, and the bad feeling in your stomach was increasing the more time went by. You were confessing your long held feelings and the blonde boy was just passing it off as drunk thoughts. 

“I’m not drunk, J.” You protested, voice hard with seriousness.

The laughing, easy atmosphere vanished. JJ’s blue eyes bore into yours.

“You love me?”

“I’m not kidding, JJ.”

All thoughts were thrown out the window at your words. So JJ did what JJ did best. Kissing. JJ leaned forward, lips on yours in a second. The kiss was tentative and soft. Unsure if this was even real. But JJ knew it was real the second he felt you kiss back. He felt on top of the world at the pressure of your lips on his.

You pulled back, trying to catch a breath. “Wait, are-”

“Should we keep this secret?” JJ answered, knowing you far too well. 

“We aren’t allowed to mack, J.”

“I don’t care.” He breathed and pressed another kiss to your lips. “As long as I can kiss you, I’m okay.”

You grinned, but pulled back a little. So you two looked like friends. Not a couple. “We gotta keep this away from the Pogues. Kie would freak.”

“God you’re hot.” The blonde boy complimented you, while ignoring your comment. You blushed and looked at the sand, wriggling your feet in the warmth of the tiny grains.

But before you could kiss the boy again, Kie was calling your name, making you pull away from the boy you’ve been in love with for a year. You glanced back to see the surfer still staring after you. You giggled softly and winked. You were now secretly macking on JJ Maybank. The one boy you thought you could never have.

~

You sat around the fire, surrounded by your friends. Pope on was your right, sharing a log with you. His bare feet were stretched in the sand, reaching for the warmth of the fire John B. had coaxed to life. Kie sat huddled to your side. She was talking adamantly about the problems with the planet. John B. was on the other side of the fire, pretending to be working hard on the fire so he couldn’t get schooled by the girl next to you. However JJ wasn’t as lucky, and he was getting a talking to.

You caught JJ’s eyes, smirking. JJ and you had been sneaking around for months now. Macking and sneaking kisses and quickies in when you could. You loved it, but wished it wouldn’t have to be a secret. But part of you feared JJ wouldn’t want to be in a relationship anymore once it got validation.

The blue eyed boy gave you a look that screamed “Help!” but you just added to the fire, by asking Kie a question that sent her off again. You loved Kie’s rants, but right now, it was funnier to see your secret boyfriend suffer as he nodded along to the curly haired girls words. 

“Y/N.” You glanced up to see John B. extending a red solo cup to you. You smiled and grabbed the cup, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. Actually, it was Pope’s sweatshirt, but you’d stolen it a while ago and Pope had given up on getting it back only for you to steal it again. You loved sweatshirts, and you had plenty, but Pope’s were special. They were always bigger than you, and you loved bigger sweatshirts. Plus, you always loved stealing things from the boys to tick them. You’d steal from John B. too, but the boy didn’t wear many sweatshirts, and if he did, he never kept track of them. And JJ- well, you couldn’t steal from him now, because it’d be a red flag. And JJ never wore sweatshirts, and stealing his shirts just for his smell would make Kie ask questions. 

You take a sip of the drink, blinking and sputtering against the strong alcohol sloshing in your gut. John B. smirks at you reaction and you shove his shoulder, making him fall back onto the log. He laughs, taking a bigger, hearty swig of his drink than you. Showing you up. You glare and take another sip, bigger than your first, but you still sputter. Your little game of showing each other up continues, until the pogues catch on. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Kie asks, eyebrows raised as she watches the two of you tip your drinks back farther.

“Maybe you should..” Pope trails, 

“Whoa there, Y/N. Slow down.” JJ’s blue eyes find yours. He’s worried for you. because when you get drunk, you get bad. You’re usually unfazed with a couple drinks, but whatever John B. concocted is strong. 

“I’m fine. We’re just playing a game.”

Pope scoffs. “Yeah whoever can get shitfaced faster.”

You roll your eyes, but Kie plucks the cup out of your hand. You gape at your best friend as she sniffs the drink, frowning. “I was winning!” You protest. 

“I don’t care how much you can drink without getting drunk, Y/N, doesn’t mean you can drink it all.”

You roll your eyes and pout as the loss of your drink. But your disappointment is cut short as the honey eyed boy across from you jumps up. The rest of you stare up at him as he runs a hand through his curly hair. 

“We’re playing truth or dare.” John B. says, but it’s more of a statement as he doesn’t leave room for debate. 

You prod Kie in the ribs, intent on annoying her into giving you your drink back since begging the girl won’t work. Kie slaps your hand away and shuts you up by tipping the rest of the contents into her throat. You give a tut of disbelief. Kie smiles and hands you the empty cup. 

“Be sure to recycle, Y/N.”

You shove her shoulder a little bit, but let your eyes flicker to John B. who’s giving JJ a wicked smirk. A smirk that tell you the boy knows something. Your heart squeezes hard as fear strikes you still. Why is he looking at JJ like he knows a secret?

“Alright, bubba.” John B. addresses his blonde friend. “You’ve you been fucking in my van?”

JJ coughs as you go still. Shit. John B. knows something. But your boyfriend laughs, shaking his head. Kie’s brows raise as she stares at JJ with her questioning dark eyes. Pope snorts because this is classic JJ. After all, they don’t know that JJ doesn’t bring a random girl from a kegger to John B.’s van to fuck. For two months, it’s been the same girl he took to heaven.

“I didn’t choose truth, John B.” JJ takes a sip, trying to aviod the question because he knows the pogues. Kie will freak. John B. will ban you two from the house and make faces when he realizes it was you two in his van. Pope would be surprised but then tease you constantly.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been fucking someone.” John B. shrugs, waiting.

JJ runs his hand through his hair, realizing he can’t get out of this. 

“JJ?” Kie prods.

JJ’s blue eyes flicker up to meet yours for a split second before his lips curve into a smirk. A dangerous smirk. 

“Alright. It’s Y/N.”

Kie gasps at the same time as your eyes go wide. The boys startle, and Pope’s eyes land on you. 

“Bullshit.” John B. calls, honey eyes dancing between you and JJ. 

You’re at a loss for words, shocked. After two months, JJ revealed you two to the world. And he seemed... proud. Not afraid or like he was going to bolt, like he feared.

“No dude.” JJ stands, smirking at you. “Y/N’s favorite spot is the van, isn’t baby?”

You gape, a blush rushing to your cheeks. You thought you told your boyfriend that in confidentiality, but apparently not. Your cheeks flame as the surfer winks at you.

“Oh shit!” Pope laughs. 

“What about no pogue on pogue macking?” Kie desperately tries to remind you of the rule you and JJ forgot to care about a long time ago. 

“Oh my god! Y/N? Really?!” John B. groans, making a face. “Why the van?”

You bury your face in your hand, positive this is the most embarrassed you’ll be your whole life. There is no way another moment can top what you feel right now. A warm arm is thrown over your shoulders, and a familiar voice curls in your ear. 

“What? We’re out now, aren’t you happy?” JJ asks, blue eyes crinkling with amusement as you peek at him. 

“Fuck you!” You glare and shove him. 

He tips for a second and laughs, grinning like a fool. You frown. It was a horrible way to break it to your friends, and the boy beside you is taking it in a stride. You glance up to meet Kie’s still shocked expression. 

“Alright- I get it. No one listens to me.” Her lips purse for a second. “How long has...” She gestures between you and JJ with a hand. “..this been going on?”

“Two months.” You manage to squeak out, still incredibly embarrassed about JJ’ comment about you and the van.

Pope laughs as John B. gags. “Goddamit it, JJ!” The boy shakes his head. “You probably contaminated my whole fucking house.”

“You wish you got that lucky!” The surfer shoots back, arm still tight around you. 

You’re still nervous about everyone’s reaction. Especially Kie. John B. seems to accept it and Pope seems cool, but you peek gingerly at the girl. Kie seems to be thinking. 

“Kie?” You voice, grabbing her attention, trying to drown out the boys bickering around you. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No. Well, I’m upset you didn’t tell me sooner, but no.” She gives you a smile, making you relax. 

“We kinda figure something was happening when you asked for JJ to teach you new moves.”

John B. scoffs, talking about the time when you asked JJ to help you learn new moves on the surf board. You laugh and arch a brow. 

“Why is that?”

“Why else would you ask the worst surfer to help you?” John B. grins, telling you silently he’s not made either. 

But JJ’s mad at him, because a few seconds later a empty beer can is flying at the boy. John B. bats it away with a roll of his eyes as Pope speaks it up,

“It was going to happen anyway.” The dark haired boy shrugs. He explains when you all look at him with surprise. “You’ve been crushing on each other for a year practically.”

“Wait, wait!” Kie laughs. “Who confessed feelings first?”

You smirk. “Me.”

John B. whistles. “Damn JJ.”

“Y/N got the balls in the relationship.”

JJ rolls his eyes, but his hand drops to your waist to tug you close. You snuggle into his warmth, night falling fast, and with it, the temperature. The conversation slowly eases back into truth or dare. Conversations flows easily, along with the alcohol in your veins. Laughter sparks loudly even as the fire starts to die, the night becoming darker. And eventually you are dared to go jump in the water, fully clothed. You come back sopping wet, but grinning like a fool. Not because you just won the twenty bucks your boyfriend bet that you wouldn’t do it, but for another reason. 

Because you are JJ are a couple. And finally out. And your friends are mad. And JJ didn’t run away. That’s why you are grinning like your on top of the world.

Because you are on the top of the world.

[forschoolpurposesonlys]

Community Problem:

Problem of Unsustainable Resource Flows

Vicinity:

Lapaz Nabitasan, Esplanade 3&4

Campaign name:

Zero Waste Campaign

Type of Social Media Used:

Blogs and Forum

Website Used:

Tumblr

What will be the content of your social media site?

• The content of our social media site would be all about our campaign which is the “Zero Waste Campaign” we will advocate the economical and efficient way of handling wastes by posting blogs additionally we will include the teaching of how to use your wastes in a more valuable way to make use of them‚ of course‚ photos will be included as well in our blogs.

our blog will also include the following:

• Waste Minimization

Everyday we make a lot of wastes‚ this is an approach that aims to reduce the production of wastes through eliminating generations of harmful and persistent wastes‚ this will support the efforts of making a sustainable society.

• 3Rs

living a zero waste life reduces our climate impact by minimizing our wastes. Reduce‚ reusing, and recycling is a key factor of a climate change strategy to reduce our greenhouse gas emission.

Why did you choose that type of social media?

• We chose blogs and forum for our type of social media for our campaign because people are mostly addicted on using social media nowadays. In that way‚ we can have much a bigger audience for our said campaign through blogging we can encourage and deliver our message about the “Zero Waste Campaign” to everyone whether young or old in the internet.

• By blogs and forum‚ we can easily reach our targeted audience and it will also gain the interests of others.

Why did you choose that website?

• We chose tumblr as our social media site to reach certain audiences and to expand the said campaign little by little by posting blogs and such in addition to that anyone can freely check the blogs out without having to send a friend request and so on.

• Tumblr is a very large platform used by variety of people by using the said platform we can easily attract the attention of the people and get them interested on our blogs.

additional information on the link below please check it out:

poster template is from the app “canva.”

[tossawary]

Chapter 24: “Seeing is Believing” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines and commentary. Not a full list or full commentary, but longer commentary than usual to talk about quest construction. 

-

AN: This was... a weird chapter to write. When I started outlining, I had... the conversation with Shen Qingqiu planned... the conversation with Shen Yuan planned... the fact that SQH, SY, LQG, and LFL was the quest party... and the fact that they get the Eye at the end of it. That was everything. 

The entire rest of this chapter came together FRIDAY LAST WEEK. 

Huan Hua Palace wasn’t going to be there. The Weeper didn’t exist. The Eye or its previous owner wasn’t at all connected to the Garden Master. The Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders didn’t exist. The murder plant didn’t exist. The mysterious monster showing up at the end wasn’t originally planned either. 

I mean, I had a lot of pre-existing plot threads to tie in and weave with, but ohhh boy! Picture someone lying facedown on a floor like, “I forgot to plan the contents of the super important quest...” 

I was originally going to have the Eye quest a lot simpler, but given the weight “Death of the Author” had when I finally reached this part of the story, that wasn’t really going to do! It had to be bigger than that! It needed oomph! This also felt like a good opportunity to really establish the new SQH-SY dynamic. To explore SY fumbling to find a place in this world without strict character role, especially in relation to settled and well-supported SQH. 

- 

“One attempts to remain dignified,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “As there is little point in kicking and screaming about how such ignobility isn’t fair.”

“Ha! Is there ever?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not cute when I do it,” Shang Qinghua jokes.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips actually twitch at that.

Success?!

- 

AN: I wasn’t going into this fic with the intention of writing any Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu almost friendship! But it started developing and it seemed a shame not to explore Shang Qinghua developing a real relationship with Shen Qingqiu (though not a particularly close one) when the man is suppose to be the scum villain (and the readers know that the man might get replaced by Shen Yuan). 

I can see myself writing more Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu content in the future. Someone dropped a particularly nice prompt for them in my inbox that I’m looking forward to exploring at some point. 

(I mean, not to say that Shang Qinghua has a type, but Shang Qinghua has a type and it’s handsome, deadly, intimidating, frosty men with a villainous character design and trust/abandonment and communication issues. I could make it work.)

- 

“Ah, well, two ‘ideal’ situations come to mind: severing the personal relationship for good… or, ah, talking about how to do better and trying that. You don’t have to forget or even forgive if you don’t want to! But, ah… there’s got to be a difference between totally swallowing your anger and cutting ties forever, right?” Shang Qinghua says awkwardly. “If there’s… ever going to be anything good afterwards…”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him for a sweat-inducing length of time.

 “Ah, fuck,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Ahhh, I’m just… thinking about something someone told me… in… in regards to some of my own problems. Never mind! Never mind!”

- 

AN: Luo Jiahui really is out here making Moshang and Qijiu get their fucking act together just by setting a better example. 

- 

“Shizun, my apologies for the interruption, but I came to ask Shizun if he would be willing to join our music lesson today? The disciples have missed his playing and are eager to present their improvements.”

“...Very well, unless anyone here would disagree…?” Shen Qingqiu looks directly at the Qian Cao Peak cultivator, as though daring her to object and die.

“It’s an excellent suggestion!” the Qian Cao Peak cultivator says quickly.

The young woman smiles. “And perhaps Shizun could sit in on the calligraphy lesson afterwards? In order to offer his opinion on my progress as a teacher?”

“Fishing for compliments is unbecoming,” Shen Qingqiu says dryly.

“Wait, what?” Shang Qinghua thinks.

- 

AN: So, this has all been happening in the background, but Shen Qingqiu accepted this House of Rejuvenation woman onto his Peak about... 6-ish years ago now? This is kind of meant to parallel Shang Qinghua’s once-secret relationship with Luo Jiahui. 

Shang Qinghua was out here trying to be a better person and Shen Qingqiu noticed; now Shen Qingqiu has his own positive (platonic) relationship with a nameless background character who was meant to die for plot reasons. What a thing, huh? If the story was saved because Shang Qinghua started a domino effect of saving random people who went on to change things? 

- 

After all, as Shang Qinghua said to the kid, besides Peerless Cucumber’s apparent talent for cultivation, he knows that his fellow transmigrator has three very important skills that will serve him well on An Ding Peak! 1) An encyclopedia knowledge for even seemingly pointless bullshit (which is kind of flattering, honestly). 2) The willingness to fight total strangers over seemingly pointless bullshit. And 3) a sharp enough tongue to win.

Peerless Cucumber didn’t find these points as funny as Shang Qinghua did.

- 

AN: Shen Yuan was always going to end up on An Ding Peak. I thought about sending him to Qing Jing or Qian Cao or Qiong Ding... or any other Peak... but that would take him too far away from Shang Qinghua to really explore their relationship and to move him around conveniently in the story. And SY sticking to An Ding seemed to best illustrate the fact that SY is lost and doesn’t know what to do except cling to SQH. 

- 

“It’s not much, sure, but it’s yours,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “You’ll be joining the talisman classes soon, so don’t try anything from a book and then need to request some home repairs.”

Peerless Cucumber nods and puts his stack of manuals down on the table.

“How’s your tutorial mission going?”

“Fine,” the kid says shortly. “Have you found anything for the other one yet?”

“Ah, not yet.”

- 

AN: “Are you winning, son?” meme energy here. 

- 

Ah, now Shang Qinghua recognizes his fellow transmigrator’s expression! That’s the same stunned expression one of his Huan Hua not-disciples, Yu Chaonan, made upon meeting the Bai Zhan Peak War God for the first time. Shang Qinghua assumes that Peerless Cucumber was expecting a man who looked more like a musclebound giant and less like a pop idol (if one with amazingly muscular arms), which is a super common and never-not-funny misconception people have about Liu Qingge.  

“Brother of one of the most beautiful women in this world, bro,” Shang Qinghua reminds his fellow transmigrator, amused. Aha! Now Peerless Cucumber’s vehement disinterest in the harem stuff is making even more sense than before!

Shang Qinghua’s assumption gets 100% confirmed when it comes time for Peerless Cucumber to fly with Liu Qingge for the next leg of the journey. The other transmigrator is so embarrassed and awkward about it that Shang Qinghua’s super direct brother-in-law asks if the young man is alright.

- 

AN: This was so fun to write. Shang Qinghua really can use the Liu siblings to gauge people’s sexual/romantic orientation. 

- 

The map (or rather, the copy Shang Qinghua made of the delicate original map) takes them to a green and grey landscape of leafy trees crawling over a wide network of tall cliffs and deep gorges. Gurgling rivers cut through twisting rock formations. Shang Qinghua can’t see any of these rivers on the map. Or these deathly drop ravines. From the outside, the whole thing looks like a natural maze (holy shit, there could be so many monsters and death-traps in there!), and Shang Qinghua would know those golden robes flying low over the hanging trees anywhere.

“Huan Hua,” Liu Qingge mutters.

“Do you think they’re looking for what we’re looking for?” Luo Fanli asks.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Peerless Cucumber says, before Shang Qinghua can.

- 

AN: I came up with the skeleton idea first. Then I was like... “I should give it three eyes.” And then I was like... “But who IS this dead author? A god? A spirit? What grander implications am I spinning here?” 

And THEN I remembered that I had some ambiguous powerful being force the Garden Master into exile due to a flood. This was because, in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the immortal man Gilgamesh meets in the abyss is the survivor of a great flood. So I was like, “Reduce! Re-use! Recycle! There’s my skeleton!” 

So I wanted to relate the skeleton to water because of the flood angle. Water as a symbol of cleansing/reincarnation is a big thing throughout many cultures. I can’t remember exactly how the crying aspect came up, but I knew there was going to be water in the temple now, so at some point my brain like was, “Bro, this skeleton should totally be crying because mythology vibes.” 

So I built the surrounding land off the idea that there was water flowing from or around this temple. At this point, I had decided that Huan Hua Palace should also be looking for this artifact, so I had to come up with a way to hide the temple, yet have a way for SQH’s party to track it down. 

- 

The damage to the doors is worse: someone once upon a time collapsed a part of the cliff face around the entrance, essentially leaving only the top fourth of the utterly smashed stone doors visible. It’s a wall now and has been for ages. It looks like it would take days to dig through the rubble. Someone has even super helpfully carved, “These doors will never open again,” just above the wreck.

“Guess we’ll have to go in as intruders rather than guests!” Luo Fanli says.

“What would be welcoming us inside a lost temple exactly?” Shang Qinghua asks vaguely, inwardly cursing the fact that explosive mining techniques will definitely attract the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators’ attention and also probably collapse the whole cliff on them.

“We only have to clear a passage for us, not the whole door,” Peerless Cucumber says optimistically. “Is there a special technique for this kind of thing?”

“Aha, not really.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we just keep following the water?” Luo Fanli says.

“...How so?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Some of those waterfalls could be passages inside,” Liu Qingge explains, because he and the little sister-in-law apparently share the same brain. He’s already eyeing the waterfall wearing down the giant statue on the left.

- 

AN: Temples in quests need to have traps and obstacles and monsters! Well, not ALL of the did, but this one did. I based the obstacles they faced as much as I could around the whole “Death of the Author” theme, while using this whole quest to explore Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua, Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge and Luo Fanli, and so on. 

The idea here with the door is that the “author” is not going to let them inside the temple to take the interpretation of the narrative (the Eye) for themselves. The story is over (the temple is closed for business)! The author is dead! If they want to get inside, they have to break inside or slip inside as intruders. 

This also creates a convenient obstacle to hold up the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators so that our party can be nearly caught later! And shows off Shang Qinghua, Liu Qingge, and Luo Fanli’s twisty lines of thinking. 

- 

Luo Fanli is holding the light and Shang Qinghua passes the other transmigrator to her, while accepting Liu Qingge’s hand for help getting out of the water.

“Ahhh, that was fun,” Shang Qinghua mutters.

Then he notices that Liu Qingge has the Cheng Luan sword out and ready. Shang Qinghua looks through the surrounding darkness, but all he can see are columns and water. For a moment, he thinks he sees something, a prowling shadow at the other end of the cavernous room, but he wipes the water out of his eyes and it’s gone.

- 

AN: The water in Shang Qinghua’s eyes briefly lets him see a flash of the invisible monsters who show up later! It helps up the tension. 

- 

Another low growl rips through the darkness and Peerless Cucumber shuffles a little closer to Shang Qinghua. Because that sounded really fucking close and yet Shang Qinghua still can’t see the thing that’s making that sound.

He doesn’t see Liu Qingge lunge at him either. He only feels his brother-in-law shove him into Peerless Cucumber, knocking them into the water, out of the way of something that howls when Liu Qingge slashes at it with his sword. Shang Qinghua rolls off Peerless Cucumber and looks up just in time to see dark blood splatter across the watery floor. Liu Qingge pursues the attacker with a second slash, but only seems to meet thin air this time.

“It’s invisible!” Luo Fanli cries. “Fuck!”

“Behind you!” Liu Qingge snaps, and spins to slash at the thin air beside him. Dark droplets of blood hit the water again and something hisses at him.

Luo Fanli whirls and slashes, searching for an opponent.

“They’re reflected in the water!” Liu Qingge yells at her, standing guard over Shang Qinghua as he gets to his feet again. “Listen for their footsteps and vocalizations! Feel the demonic energy and air displacement!”

- 

AN: I got this from a list of Dungeons and Dragons puzzles. The idea is that there’s some puzzle that must be solved, but the truth of the room can only be seen in the reflection of the nearby water (or mirror or whatever). 

Which felt fitting for a “Death of the Author” quest! Whatever an author’s intentions, the story is what they actually wrote, so the audience interprets a text without the context of the author’s insight. The truth (of the story) is in the reflection (audience interpretation)! It felt like a fun idea. 

It also allows Shen Yuan to actually contribute to the quest via monster lore and bring up his impaired vision problem. And to confront Shen Yuan with the reality of this world. And to show off Luo Fanli’s fighting skills. And to show off LIU QINGGE’S legendary fighting skills, instincts as a warrior who fights many dangerous beasts, and the fact that he’s clever and observant! 

Liu Qingge is good at what he does! And this is what he does! 

- 

Someone has… angrily… or desperately… carved a lopsided message into the wall.

 “‘If I go blind, so does the world,’” Peerless Cucumber reads.

“...That’s probably not good,” Shang Qinghua says.

“Nooo…” Fanli agrees.

The messages continue as they climb, carved into the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Most of it is illegible. Some of it is just nonsense. Some of it looks like the same kind of historical records carved into the broken tablets. Some of it looks like someone attacked the walls after reading what was written there. There are deep gouges in the walls and cracked marks that would match a giant’s hands.

 “‘The water cleans the lies,’” Peerless Cucumber reads. “‘I am the only one who can see.’ ‘Lies everywhere, lies everywhere, lies everywhere.’ ‘The water cleans the evil.’ ‘I do not have enough tears.’ ‘Everything is nothing now. Everything in vain.’”

“You really don’t need to read them!” Shang Qinghua tells the kid. “It’s fine. It's totally fine.”

- 

AN: This is mostly here to up the tension, but it’s also here to try and give insight into this being and relate them more to the “Death of the Author” and the “Seeing is Believing” themes. 

I also saw the phrase “If I go blind, so does the world” while I was browsing a list of riddles for D&D campaigns and I was like, “THAT’S SICK, I’M USING THAT.” Really brings the “an eye for an eye” and vengeance vibes. (The riddle was longer than that one phrase, but the answer was “the sun”.) 

- 

The top of the temple reveals one massive room that looks like someone was alternatively scratching their insanity into the walls and tearing chunks out of the interior design with their bare hands. Overtop of the rubble is that eerie overgrowth. There’s a fine layer of water over the floor. At the center of it all is an incredibly enormous desk, cracked in half, with a robed skeleton sitting behind it, slumped over the top. It’s a little too large to be an ordinary human.

Plus, its skull is a little too long, probably to accommodate the third eye socket in the forehead. There’s something gleaming softly yellow in the third eye socket.

“Is… there water dripping from its eyes?” Luo Fanli whispers.

“It looks like it…” Peerless Cucumber whispers back. “Like it's crying…?”

“Still…? Is it dead or not?”

 “Holy shit,” Shang Qinghua thinks, slightly nauseated. “System, bro, the worst bro I’ve ever known, tell me that we have not been swimming in a three-eyed skeleton’s magical undead tears or something this whole time.”

The shitty, no-good System stays unsurprisingly silent. 

- 

AN: Okay, so the idea here is that this being was someone who recorded history and shared their knowledge freely. This being had the ability to discern the truth of a person - they were extremely perceptive. (The Weeper is either female or doesn’t have a gender, by the way.) 

The Weeper met the Garden Master at some point. The Garden Master was an asshole, a liar, arrogant, etc.. The Weeper and the Garden Master clashed badly, until the Weeper sent the cleansing flood that nearly destroyed the sect and the Garden Master essentially had to flee to a personal abyss. 

The Garden Master sent the plant as a final “fuck you” to the Weeper. The plant caused the Weeper to slowly go mad. The smashed tablets and destroyed temple are the Weeper’s work. The Weeper (not in a great state of mind) had the temple closed themselves once they realized they and their work had been corrupted. This was a “you destroy my (embellished) reputation, I destroy yours (and your entire life)” plot by the Garden Master. 

The idea behind the tears is the whole “water is cleansing” thing. The Weeper tried to clean away the madness using their magical water-related abilities... and it actually worked for a long time. But eventually the madness began to overpower the effects of the magical water. The Weeper’s tears are from frustration and helplessness at losing control. 

The water inside the temple combats the plant’s physical effects. Also stabbing the root killed the plant and essentially broke its mental/spiritual powers. 

- 

Unfortunately, to get the fuck out of here, they have to go back through the temple. But hey! That’s still a lot better than an extended hike through an underground, haunted desert in darkness! The battle with the now-dead plant caused its growth to writhe around the temple. The vines need to be hacked through sometimes as they travel down through the rooms of broken shelves and shattered tablets.

“So much history lost…” Peerless Cucumber murmurs.

 “He still thinks of himself as a reader - an observer, a visitor, separate from the flow of fate.”

- 

AN: This is... absolutely based on the Heart from the Dishonored franchise. But this sort of item didn’t originate with Dishonored and I need it! It’s a surprise/mystery tool that will help us later! 

The Eye isn’t exactly a mind-reading object. I mean, it kind of is, but it works in a very specific way that I’m looking forward to getting into. 

- 

From there, their path back out of the natural maze is even more careful and stressful than before, now that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators are actively looking for them rather than the temple. It’s slow-going and stressful and silent, except for when the Weeper’s Eye presses too close against his chest.

 “He is afraid that if he starts screaming, he will never stop,” it tells him, when he’s looking at a pale-faced Peerless Cucumber, as they fly over a particularly deathly-looking drop.

 “Oh, me too, bro!” Shang Qinghua thinks. “Seriously! Tell me something I don’t know!”

- 

AN: Having Shang Qinghua be totally unimpressed by an object like this was very funny to me. He’s the author! He’s a transmigrator! He knows these people well! He already has insight into their situations. 

- 

Shang Qinghua groans, but supposes that Peerless Cucumber would have at least been disguising Liu Qingge from the back. “You tell them that you were tracking thieves who stole something from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect,” he says quickly. “Rule of embarrassment! Admitting something that makes us look bad to a rival makes it sound true. Don’t tell them what was stolen and act really offended if they try to poke into Cang Qiong business. I’ll come back as soon as I get these two out!”

Liu Qingge nods and launches forward into the fight.

“We’re just leaving him?” Peerless Cucumber says, as they do exactly that.

“I’ll get changed and come back ‘looking for him for urgent sect business’ as soon as I’ve dropped you two off in the last town,” Shang Qinghua says. “I’m really good at acting stressed and confused, and at desperately needing an unstoppable wandering Liu Qingge back at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect immediately. Now let’s go! Let’s go! Mission isn’t over yet!”

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua is, at heart, a liar. I love him. 

[saturatedcoffee]

How Archive Sunday turned 5,000 TikTok followers into $1 million in revenue… in one year

Nothing has made me feel the big 3–0 looming on my horizon more than being a millennial on TikTok. Like more than the 100 million people who downloaded the app at the start of quarantine, it was something I used to pass the time. It was what all the kids were doing, and I was in strong denial about the fact that I was no longer one of them with my skinny jeans and side part―which TikTok has shown me are signs that I am now, certifiably, Old.

What I expected was videos of lip-syncing and dancing―like the app’s precursor, Musical.ly. But what I found was a collection of content creators making videos about my very specific and very niche interests and using that as a marketing tool for their small businesses.

I found a lot of small businesses on TikTok to satiate my quarantine-induced shopaholic tendencies. Like custom joycons for my Nintendo Switch, Japanese anime stickers for my laptop, and cute gear for my battlestation (otherwise known as my home office). What I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t alone-the pandemic had kickstarted an explosion of growth for small businesses on apps and websites like TikTok.

And one of those businesses is right here in Salt Lake City-in fact, right across the street from my very own apartment.

Just because there’s a pandemic doesn’t mean you can’t do business

When I was downloading TikTok at the start of the pandemic, Sasha Sloan was starting her business. “I was just kind of stuck at home in quarantine,” she says. “I was still in school, but I couldn’t go to campus. I couldn’t get a job. And like everybody else, I was just on TikTok all the time.”

What started as a way to make some money and kill some time in quarantine quickly became an overnight sensation.

Her business was simple: buying old Star Wars T-shirts from the thrift store, bleach dying them, and reselling them on Etsy. Coming from a family who had made their living off of recycled fashion, like her siblings’ company Uptown Cheapskate or her mother’s company Kid to Kid, it was an easy model to follow, but one she did all on her own.

With only 5,000 TikTok followers and 50 bleach-dyed Star Wars T-shirts, Sloan put up a video showcasing her product and went to bed. When she woke up the next day, her entire Etsy collection had sold out. “That was the first moment that I was like, hold on, do we have something special here? And then I did it again.”

For the first two months, that’s how it went. Waking up at 6:00 AM, buying shirts, bleaching them, photographing them, and then listing them. “I couldn’t do it fast enough,” she says.

Sloan launched her business, Archive Sunday, with bleach-dyed T-shirts on TikTok on July 7th, 2020. By August, she’d launched her second product: collage walls. One hundred days in, the business hit $100,000 in sales. By the five-month mark, Sloan’s account reached one million followers. Now the business is projected to make a million dollars in sales in 2021.

Pictured: Sasha Sloan with the Archive Sunday collage kit, Athena. Photo provided by Archive Sunday.

A new social media for a new way of marketing

What makes Sloan’s business unique is that it goes beyond traditional methods because the products she sells draw on existing fanbases, like Star Wars and Harry Potter. In fact, I discovered her months ago because she posted a video from my own favorite fandom, Sailor Moon.

“The [TikTok] algorithm sorted me very quickly into fandom. Star Wars, Harry Potter, all that kind of stuff. And I was just watching and seeing how easy it is to go viral,” says Sloan. She’s right. It is easy to go viral on TikTok, especially if you know what you’re doing.

The algorithm sorts users into social circles that share interests — or liked hashtags. When a video is uploaded, the algorithm shows it to a small subset of people. And when they like that video, it shares it with users who may have similar interests. And if they like it, it creates a positive feedback loop that, if it happens enough times, causes the video to go viral. Unlike platforms like Twitter or Facebook, you don’t have to be following the video creator to find their content.

And though it sounds lucky, Sloan says her success was about more than luck, “Everything that’s happened on TikTok is not by accident. I am very strategic, very calculating in what I post,” she explains. “That’s something that I think is the most common and frustrating misconception to me is that I am a blonde girl. I’m a pageant girl. I know how to do my makeup. And I will get the critique that everything I have only came to me because of the way I look. And I just hate it, because I don’t think people realize I’ve been working in the social media world and studying algorithms since I was about 18.”

Pictured: Sasha Sloan in her signature collection, The Burrow, inspired by Harry Potter. Photo provided by Archive Sunday.

Sloan has worked in social media since she ran the verified social accounts for her family’s businesses as a teenager. Recently, she even ran social media for John Huntsman’s campaign for governor as part of her capstone internship, managing million-dollar ad spends. And in her experience, she can confirm that marketing on TikTok is very different from Instagram, Facebook, or Pinterest.

“[TikTok] has created this liberation in social media where, number one, you can make whatever you want because you’re speaking to an audience that really gets you and has your same interests. And number two, it is a meritocracy. On Instagram, celebrities are often the most-followed and your followers decide how much [your content] gets liked. Whereas on TikTok, the algorithm does not care if you have a million followers or if you have ten. The only question is, is this a good piece of content?”

Creative advertising for a creative generation

TikTok is changing the game―and it’s changing the way we sell products. It’s not about paid advertising, because you can scroll right past the ads. You can’t target an ad to Gen Z the same way you can target a Boomer on Facebook. And according to Wallaroo Media, 60 percent of TikTok users belong to Gen Z, who’ve spent their whole lives on social media and are able to tell what’s an ad and what’s actual content. So if you want a TikTok user to watch your ad, you have to make it content they want to watch.

So Sloan has skipped the commercial. “I’ve never spent a dollar on marketing,” she says. “We just make these creative projects and people want to support them. They want to support the outfits. They want to look like our characters. And so we’re almost using fictional characters as influencers in a way.”

The creative projects and fictional characters she’s talking about tie back into her Noble House of Black series, which is a fan-created, live-action series of TikTok videos about three sisters from Harry Potter: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa Black (played by Sloan herself). The series tells the story of these sisters in a visual form of fan fiction, wearing Archive Sunday’s clothes and using their accessories which, if fans like enough, they can follow through Sloan’s TikTok profile to the Archive Sunday store.

Pictured: Sasha Sloan as Narcissa Black in the Tiktok Harry Potter fan series The Noble House of Black. Photo provided by Archive Sunday.

What makes the series so engaging is that they’re featuring characters the very large and very vocal Harry Potter fandom is already familiar with. But while these characters exist in the Harry Potter franchise, much of their story is left untold. Which leaves it to the interpretation of fanon — a collection of concepts and ideas that are used in most fan fiction, but don’t really exist in the real story’s canon. And that’s where the Noble House of Black steps in to fill in the story.

“We are representing the aesthetic of fandom, which is not exactly the same thing as representing the original piece of art or work,” explains Sloan, who is very careful to circumnavigate her business around copyright issues. “We’re not copying and pasting the original piece of art. We’re using that art as a launching pad and an expansionary work to create something [new].”

A new kind of business for a new kind of nerd

The business of fandom, and namely fan fiction, is growing. Comic conventions like Salt Lake’s FanX grow bigger every year. The most well-recognized fan fiction website, Archive of our Own (AO3), even celebrated their 7 millionth fan fiction upload in 2020. Fan culture is a booming and underserved market, which has exploded even further with the stay-at-home orders of the 2020 pandemic. And Archive Sunday is capitalizing on it.

The untapped market of grown fans, particularly young women, is what Sloan attributes to her success. “I wanted to create a brand for that girl who is a millennial or a Gen Z or who loves their fandom stuff, is confident, put together, and is still a cool, popular, fun person that you’d want to hang out with.” For the girl that shops at Target, who wants the $200 merch from Disneyland but can only afford the sale at Hot Topic. For the fan who wants to rep their Hogwarts house while also being office-appropriate.

Pictured: The Black sisters from the Tiktok Harry Potter fan series, The Noble House of Black, with the actresses wearing signature Archive Sunday clothing pieces. Photo provided by Archive Sunday.

And Sloan is using her platform not only for marketing but as a tool for empowerment. “Generally in society, women are made fun of for their interests,” she says. “And I think that a lot of young women, in particular, need and desire the ability to look up to other women that have the same interest and are completely confident and passionate about it.”

And as a grown fan myself, I wholeheartedly agree with her. According to a census survey of 10,005 AO3 users, 80 percent of fan fiction readers and creators identified as female, with less than five percent identifying as male. But how many of these women hide behind online aliases and compartmentalize their fandoms from their real lives?

The answer to that question remains unseen, but Sloan is taking the steps to embrace her nerdiness as the girl who reads too much―and turning that into not only a business, but a positive role model for young women.

“When people message me to tell me why they follow me, it’s usually young women who [say], ‘I’m getting bullied in school and everyone thinks that I’m weird. I like all this stuff. I’m so passionate about my books and things. And I don’t really see any representation for that.”

So she’s filling the gap. Embracing her inner geek and using that to connect with other fans, she’s been able to build a business practically overnight. There’s a market here that’s ripe for the picking and desperate for content. Like Sloan, you don’t need to spend a dime on marketing. You just need to be a little creative and jump in the game while it’s still hot.

...

Originally published at https://www.utahbusiness.com on April 27, 2021. Follow me on Medium!

[themattress]

Using this video as a segue into this post, which ignores the dregs of the Fandom Menace who were never going to like this movie and just distills the five main points made by critics.

1. It threw away what The Last Jedi established. 2. It's too chock-full of stuff and with too rushed a pace.  3. It has no deep themes and nothing insightful to say. 4. It lacks imagination and is all rehashing and nostalgia-bait fanservice. 5. It's a disappointing ending to both a trilogy and a nine-film saga.

1. This criticism seems to recur the most, since critics didn’t just like TLJ and Rian Johnson’s vision for the franchise, they loved it; they were blown away by it. So naturally it cuts deep when they see TROS set back a lot of what TLJ established (Rey actually does come from a noteworthy lineage, actually does have to undergo true Jedi training, and even ends up becoming a Skywalker. Finn is back to hanging out with Rey rather than Rose, and Rose herself has a minor role. Poe is prone to being reckless and hot-tempered again. Luke isn’t a grumpy old man anymore. Kylo Ren, after reforging his old mask, is redeemed while a decrepit old wielder of the Dark Side is the Big Bad. Hux doesn’t get much of a role and is killed off midway through. The Force-sensitive children like that “broom boy” don’t factor into anything. The story takes a familiar path rather than subverting audience expectations.) Honest Trailers even joked that the film was the long-awaited sequel to The Force Awakens rather than to The Last Jedi. And I can understand this critique, it’s a valid one to make. 

But I’d also have to argue that not only is J.J Abrams entitled to bring the story back in line with his old ideas from his time making TFA since Disney and Lucasfilm specifically reached out to him to direct TROS (and c’mon, Rian Johnson threw out TFA’s establishment first, if it’s wrong of J.J then it was wrong of Rian too), and that a film that exactly followed TLJ’s establishment like Colin Trevorrow’s unproduced Duel of the Fates would feel too bleak and wrong for the franchise, but that the movie doesn’t ignore TLJ as much as it’s made out. The events of TLJ still happened exactly as we saw them, they are still acknowledged, and they are even built upon in interesting ways. I loved seeing Luke no longer a grumpy old man because that’s what TLJ’s climax set up with him: he learned the error of his ways and re-embraced his status as a Jedi and as a legend. The galaxy coming to the Resistance’s aid in the final battle is the perfect pay-off to them not doing so in the Battle of Crait and shows how Luke’s last stand really did inspire hope once more. I loved the three-way power struggle in the First Order between Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Hux and (representing Palpatine’s interests) Pryde. I thought Palpatine being behind Snoke made perfect sense. I’m glad Rose was still present at all. I though Kylo Ren’s redemption was handled very well. And I loved Rey becoming a Skywalker in the end, that just felt like such a right conclusion to me.

2. There’s an easy explanation as to why it’s chock-full with stuff - Kathleen Kennedy didn’t require Rian Johnson to adapt any of it in TLJ even though much of it was conceived by J.J Abrams and Lawrence Kasdan when making TFA. J.J literally needed to fit two movies’ worth of content into this one movie because TLJ spent too much time wheel-spinning and navel-gazing (and keep in mind that I like TLJ; but I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t screw the pooch on multiple fronts). As for the pace, I definitely agree when it comes to the first act and whoever thought it was a good idea to excise so much of what was filmed for it needs to be slapped upside-down the head. But things start to improve after the big Pasaana canyon race, and once they get off Pasaana altogether the pace settles down into the usual SW film groove. I think critics were so burned by that first half-hour that it colored their impression of the rest of the film, even when looking at it objectively the rest of the film does have a lot more breathing room and calmer, introspective moments between the big action set pieces. 

3. I see this a lot from critics and am all...?????? I’m sorry, did we watch the same movie!? “They win by making you think you’re alone, but there’s more of us”. “Your mother’s gone. But what she stood for, what she fought for.... that’s not gone.”  “We had each other. That’s how we won.” “Your spirit...your heart...some things are stronger than blood”. These themes are every bit as spelled out as the themes from TLJ that critics praised so much...but then, critics thought that one of TLJ’s themes was the villain’s justification of his own atrocities (”Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to”) so maybe them missing all of these themes isn’t so surprising. 

4. First off, the “lacking imagination” criticism will always astound me when The Force Awakens is one of the most critically praised films in the series and it literally ripped off the entire plot structure of A New Hope. None of the “member berries” in this film came close to that level of rehashing. Secondly, Star Wars has been all about nostalgia and pleasing crowds (”fanservice”) since its inception, and recycling various set-ups and tropes and sequences has been a thing for a long time (to quote George Lucas: “It’s like poetry, they rhyme.”) And lastly, this is the finale to the Skywalker Saga, so of fucking course it’ll be full of nostalgia and fanservice and sequences reminiscent of all the previous films! It’s a celebration as well as a send-off! Avengers: Endgame is a critical darling, and it literally traveled back in time to several of the past movies that led up to it! So what’s the problem here? I, for one, thought it was very cleverly and seamlessly done for the most part, and being done in the framework of a dumb, goofy blockbuster (which was all Star Wars was originally meant to be; it was never meant to be taken as seriously as it unfortunately has).

5. The main reasoning behind this criticism is that TROS fully exposes and embodies Disney and Lucasfilm’s lack of planning when it came to the Sequel Trilogy, which is so disheartening that it makes this finale a disappointing one to both the trilogy and the whole saga. First of all, every finale has been considered disappointing in their times: ROTJ was possibly even more loathed by fans and critics (while still enjoyed by general audiences) than TROS, and while ROTS got middling reviews from critics, it was still considered to be flat-out bad just like its predecessors by fans - being the least bad of them wasn’t high praise (even the general audience enjoyment seemed more tepid compared to ROTJ and TROS). On all fronts, the perception of the movies only improved with age, so that will likely be the same case here.

More importantly, anyone who did their homework or even some simple critical thinking not only could have realized that there was no plan for the Sequel Trilogy from the days of TLJ, but from the days of TFA. From the moment that movie rehashed the plot of A New Hope and relied heavily on Mystery Boxes to hook viewers, I knew there was no solid plan for this trilogy and that they were making it up as they went along. When you’re aware of this fact well in advance, I think that you end up being more impressed by TROS for being able to wrap the trilogy and saga up in the tight, definitively close-ended way that it did. I know that I certainly was. Much of this had to do with J.J Abram’s idea to bring back Palpatine. People whine that he was brought in with no foreshadowing at the last minute and that he was nowhere near the Sequel Trilogy beforehand and that him being here makes ROTJ pointless, and yet not only was Palpatine everywhere near the whole saga from the very beginning (which, as J.J has said, would make it bizarre for it to end without him), but ROTJ was already made pointless by TFA by its decision to reverse all the heroes’ victories and bring back the Empire. If Palpatine, the Emperor, the very creator of the Empire, did not find a way to return from his defeat in ROTJ and was thus not behind the Empire’s resurrection, how fucking cheap would that be? Some random other decrepit, all-powerful Dark Side wielder just came along and brought it back to the point of reversing all the heroes’ victories? And then he gets supplanted by Han and Leia’s son, which would make the Sequel Trilogy and whole saga’s Final Boss the guy who humiliatingly got his ass handed to him in both previous films’ climaxes? IMHO, the Sequel Trilogy really would suck if that was what it amounted to! That would be a true “disappointing ending to both a trilogy and a nine-film saga.” When it comes to the film series (the Skywalker Saga), the only valid excuse for not ending the conflict with the Empire in ROTJ is if the Emperor wasn’t truly vanquished in it. Period.

It ain’t J.J’s fault that he was actually looking at the bigger picture while critics were not.

Bonus: another video plug, because this guy is a Star Wars fan that truly deserves it.

[catsafarithewriter]

“Can’t you see I’m busy procrastinating?” - Haru/Baron, potentially Cups of Tea AU? OwO

A/N: One Cups of Tea AU coming right up! This was inspired by this post, and although I don’t have Haru and Baron sharing your requested line (Hiromi gets that honour, or close to it), this is one option for how Haru and Baron may have met for the first time. (i.e. chaotically) Enjoy! 

x

Moving into a flat with Hiromi was always going to be chaotic. 

Still, nothing could prepare Haru for the sight of her best friend cursing at the light switch. 

“Work was that bad, huh?” Haru ask as she dumped her bag and coat by the front door. 

“Ngh,” Hiromi said. 

“Alright. Well, that’s an answer.” Haru kicked off her shoes onto the mat just as the lounge light turned off. “Uh, Hiromi? Some light would be nice.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” 

“What do you mean you’re trying? How--”

Hiromi grabbed Haru’s arm and, in the dim shadows, dragged her over to the centre of the chaos. “Look. Watch.” She flicked on the switch and light flooded the room.”

“Very impressive, Hiromi,” Haru deadpanned. “And if we move to the kitchen, perhaps we’ll find that turning the tap makes water appear--”

“Just wait.”

Several dubious seconds passed. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here with you all evening and marvel at the wonders of modern technology, I have rice that needs cooking, so--”

The light went out.

“Hiromi...”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You must have done something - that or the bulb has blown--”  

Staring straight at Haru, Hiromi flicked the switch. Light returned... for all of ten seconds before depositing them back into gloom. “See?” she yelped. “See? It’s not me! Something is seriously wrong with this place. Maybe it’s--″

“Don’t say haunted.”

“Do you have a better solution?”

“This building is brand new, Hiromi; it’s probably just some faulty wiring.”

“Maybe they build this place over some spirit’s home, and now it’s angry--”

“Unlikely, given that they tore down a warehouse to build it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Unlike some, I actually read all of the brochure before signing up.” Haru shrugged, and the light came back on. “It’ll be... teething problems or something.”

The light turned off. 

“Yeah, well let’s just hope the oven isn’t also ‘teething,’” Hiromi said. 

x

Luckily, whatever ailment had taken hold of the living room light seemed content to remain contained for the time being. 

Still, Haru had to shut her bedroom door securely and stuff blankets along the base to stop the erratic light beyond from keeping her awake. It became routine, just as much as the funny key jiggle needed to lock the apartment door, or the way that one of the floorboards tilted if you stood on the wrong end.

Hiromi was less accepting about the whole shebang. 

“Let - me - turn - you - on - you - blasted - thing!” Hiromi cursed as she battled with the disobedient light switch. 

Haru strolled from the kitchen, dinner in one hand and her phone in the other. “Just use one of the table lamps,” she offered as she perched on the sofa. “They don’t misbehave.”

“I don’t want a table lamp, I want the big light to do its damn job.”     

Haru watched the unintentional light show and distantly wondered what they were accidentally spelling out in Morse code. Then it gave her a headache, so she looked back to her phone. “Your dinner’s going cold, Hiromi.”

“I don’t care. I will win!”

“Against faulty wiring? I think the only thing you’re going to win is an electric shock.”

“I’m not going to let a haunted light bulb beat me!”

For not the first time, Haru wondered how much simpler her life would be if she didn’t have a drama queen for a best friend. “It’s not haunted, Hiromi.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Haru’s phone dinged, and she opened the message. She grinned. “Because I’ve just discovered the real reason.” She scrolled through the text. “I got talking to the IT department at work - you remember Chika, right? - and they’ve done a little digging and they say...” Her eyes widened at the explanation. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

“What?” Hiromi catapulted herself over to Haru’s side, her battle with the light switch all but forgotten. “What did they say?”

“Apparently these new condos use a - and I quote - ‘unique and innovative binary code’ to connect the switches to the lights and should have a radius of 30 feet.” Haru paused. “The actual radius is much bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

“Uh, about 40 apartments bigger?”

Hiromi considered this. Then a wicked grin spread across her face. “Are you saying that I’m controlling the lights of 40 other flats?”

“Not... quite? Based on the limitations of the binary code, there’s only 16 possible code combinations, so basically our switch controls the light of at least one other apartment, maybe more.”

“So. Not haunted.”

“Not haunted,” Haru agreed. 

x

Haru entered to the furious clacking of the light switch and the sporadic light show dominating the flat. She dumped her groceries, sidestepping the bag of laundry that Hiromi had promised to clear before she’d left, and found her best friend hunkered down before the switch and a notebook. 

“Hiromi--”

“Not now! I’m concentrating!”

Haru patiently waited, watching Hiromi’s brow furrow in intense concentration as she clicked through a specific pattern. Just above that, Haru could hear muttered letters. 

Eventually, Hiromi sat back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Done!”

“I hope you’re referring to the clothes you were planning to take to the laundromat,” Haru said. She leant against the door-frame and gave her friend a look. 

“Ah. That.” 

“Or maybe you were talking about the dishes in the sink you said you’d clean.”

“Oh. Well--”

“Or perhaps it was the recycling that needed taking out.” Haru raised an eyebrow and was rewarded with an unflustered flush from Hiromi. “What are you doing?”

“Procrastinating. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Haru leant in and snatched up the notebook.

“Hey!”

Haru raised the book out of her friend’s reach with a teasing, “Shorty,” before flipping it open to the most recent page. A loose sheet fell out, the alphabet carefully written out and a series of dots and dashes beneath it. On the bound page, sentences were spelled out, once again connected by dashes and dots. “Hiromi, are you... talking to the other flats via Morse code?”

“No! ...Maybe.”

“Fear me, fear me, who dare disturbs my rest?” Haru read, flipping further through the notebook and discovering whole conversations carefully converted into Morse code and back. “I come for vengance - I mean, honestly, is this the best you can do? Also, that is not how  you spell ‘vengeance.’”

The lights began flickering, and Hiromi snatched back the book in Haru’s inattention. “Shush, let me see what they’re saying back.”

“Hiromi Kasumi Tomoko, are you pretending to haunt someone’s flat?”

“No...?” Hiromi’s nose wrinkled in concentration as she translated the light’s flicking into words, a wide grin revealing the success of her deception. The lights stabilised and she grinned up at Haru. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Hiromi, you are a terrible, terrible person.”

“Aw, you say the nicest things.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Uh... a week?”

“Hiromi!”

“Hey, they started it! They’re the ones who were trying to communicate in Morse code to appease the ‘spirit on the other side;’ I just responded. What else was I meant to do?”

“Ignore it?” Haru offered. “Tell them the truth? Not pretend to be a ghost?”

“Okay, sure, but where’s the fun in that?” Hiromi tapped at the page, thinking. “Maybe we should tell them that the ghost cannot rest until they do something to appease it. Like sing the entirety of Mamma Mia, or meow for a day, or--”

Haru yanked the book away. “That’s enough of that.”

“Oh come on, Haru--”

“You are not going to prank some complete stranger! I’m sure it’s hilarious, but there’s probably some poor idiot hyperventilating and googling exorcist rates right now, so just come clean and tell them--”  

The lights turned off. And on. And off.

A persistent, almost aggressive pattern began to emerge. 

“H-Hiromi? What are they saying?”

“Uh, give me my notebook and I’ll tell you.”

Haru numbly passed it across. 

On. Off. On. Pause. Off. On. Off. 

“A. R. L. I. A. R. L. I. A. R. L. I,” Haru translated. “Arli? Iarl? What’s that? I don’t--”

Haru leant across, barely taking her eyes off the light, and scrawled, “Liar,” onto the page.

“Oh.”

“I’m guessing they’ve finally clued in,” Haru said. “I wonder what made them realise...”

The pattern changed, and Hiromi frantically copied out the newly-forming letters. She gave a funny squeak.      

“Hiromi?”

“I am the ghost,” Hiromi read in a wheezing sort of voice. “Fear me.”    

“Oh, for...” Haru slammed to her feet, grabbing her shoes and making a beeline for the door. 

“Haru, don’t leave me with the ghost!”

“It’s not a ghost, Hiromi; someone is just paying your trick back at you and I’m going to find out who.” She raised her phone. “I’m going to stand in the car park and see if I can spot the other flat - or flats - we’re battling with. You stay here and keep the light show going if it starts to stop - as long as it’s unique, I should be able to pin them down. We’re going to solve this tonight.”

x

From what Haru could see, there were two other apartments that shared their ‘haunted’ light show, and the first one they located greeted them with twin screams and the sound of something shattering when they knocked. 

Haru raised an eyebrow at Hiromi in an admonishing ‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself’ fashion. 

For her part, Hiromi did look fairly amused. 

Haru knocked again, and this time she heard frantic scrabbling to the door and several inventive curses. Eventually the door swung open and two men stood in the doorway. They were built of opposites; one tall, dark, and build like a stick, wearing a NASA t-shirt, and the other round and light-skinned, and wearing a sports jersey that had an indistinguishable team or - come to that - sport. 

There was the stench of incense from inside, and both were wearing a comical assortment of crosses, crucifixes, and other wards around hteir necks. The larger one had a string of garlic on top of all that. 

“Are yer the exorcists?” he asked. 

Haru glared at Hiromi in her best ‘look what you’ve done’ manner. “No, but--”  

“Then now ain’t a good time,” he said and shut the door. 

Haru slammed her foot into the gap before the man could finish the task, and attempted her best winning smile. “We, um - that is, my friend has an apology to make.”

The large man narrowed his eyes. “Why? Did she kill the ghost that’s haunting us?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the tall man reprimanded. “The ghost said she died a 100 years ago - her murderer would be long gone by now.” He frowned. “Unless...”

Haru’s winning smile faltered.

“She’s also a ghost!” the first man yelped. He thrust a crucifix in their direction, vigorously crossing himself. Hiromi looked liked she was fighting the urge to collapse with laughter.

Haru pushed her aside before Hiromi could lose that particular fight. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You’re not haunted.”

“Tell that to our flat!”

“There’s been a mistake with the main light system,” Haru barrelled on, very aware she was fast in danger of losing her nerve, “which seems to have caused some of the switches in different flats to link up. So, uh, when we turn on our light, it turns on yours too, and vice versa...”

Both men stared at her and Haru wondered how good her chances were of outrunning them. Maybe she didn’t need to be that fast... just faster than Hiromi... 

Then the tall one rounded on his flatmate. “I told you there’d be a scientific explanation!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t hear you complaining when I bought the crucifixes!”

“I should never have listened to you!”

“I didn’t ask yer to!”

“It’s your fault our apartment stinks of incense and garlic now!”

“I’m not the one who’s been parading round as a ghost for a week!”

“That... is a good point.”

Both men simultaneously remembered their visitors, and Haru gulped. She firmly steered Hiromi into their main line of sight. “My friend has some apologising to do.”

Hiromi grinned weakly, and waved. “Hello.”

“You!”

“You’re the one who’s been messing with our light?!”

“Unintentionally, at first,” Hiromi said. 

“And after?” the tall one asked. 

Hiromi hesitated. “Maybe have been slightly less unintentional.”

“And even now, yer still at it?” the larger one demanded, waving a hand to the flashing lights. 

“Um... that’s not me.”

“And why should we believe you?”

Hiromi and Haru both pointed across the corridor, to where corresponding flickering lights, perfectly in time with the men’s flat, could be seen flashing beneath the door of another apartment. “Meet culprit number two,” Haru said. 

“Okay, that’s fairly convincing,” the taller man admitted. He sighed and offered a hand. “I’m Toto, and the mountain beside me is Muta.”

“Oi, don’t go giving our names to the fake ghosts, birdbrain!”

“Hiromi, Haru,” Haru introduced. She took the hand. “Sorry about the prank.”

“Even if it was hilarious,” Hiromi added. 

Haru rolled her eyes for Toto to see. “Hiromi, don’t make he revoke your baking privileges.” 

“Right. Shutting up.”

Conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as Muta cannon-balled past them and up to the final door of the light show. He hammered at it. “Hey, open up!” he roared. “We know what you’ve been doing!”

Haru raised an eyebrow at Toto. “Your friend’s subtle.”

“This is one of his good days,” Toto replied. He marched up to his flatmate and, apparently undaunted by Muta’s self-righteous ire, grabbed his fist before it could make progress through the door. “Hey, perhaps we shouldn’t go breaking down doors in a brand new apartment complex, maybe? Or do you really just have fluff for brains?”

“At least I don’t have my head in the clouds, birdbrain.”

“That’s rich, coming from--”

“Can I help you?”

The door had opened, and a man with an English accent, ginger hair, and the brightest green eyes Haru had ever seen stood in the opening. He wore a red waistcoat over a white shirt, the latter with the sleeves rolled up. And with a mug of tea clasped in one hand, he didn’t exactly look like the prank mastermind that Haru had been expecting. 

Muta seemed to have no such second-thoughts. “You!” he bellowed. “You’re the ghost!”

The man blinked, and blush rose up alongside his freckles.

Okay, so maybe he was less innocent than he looked. “Oh.”

“What do you have to say for yerself?!”

The man looked at the small crowd before him, and smiled sheepishly. 

“...Do you want some tea?”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal 

Series Summary -  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 1 - A Distant Roar

"Long ago, humans existed as a thriving race, full of hope and promise. Their faith was strong, the resulting bond stronger and technology was accelerating towards a prosperous future.

It was a time when the tales of fae were still passed down as children's stories, and warnings were scoffed off as superstitions. Humans as a race believed the shadows of the night hid nothing and when dawn painted the sky whatever evil that may have lurked in the darkness was wiped away as cleanly as the shores by the waves of the ocean.

With that mindset adopted, when the calamity fell we thought only that the autonomous monstrosities were an advanced technology from an enemy country, meant to start another world war to wipe out whatever they could. When reports poured in from around the world, tin hats began screaming of aliens, and the churches filled with the cries of righteous damnation. No matter which reason you picked, it was almost a guarantee you would be wiped off the map given enough time. The creatures were gleaming gold and silver, blinding those who dared look too closely, deafening those who listened too carefully. Heavy as they seemed in their armor of metal they stayed light on their feet, crawling their way up from the earth, bounding through cities from the deep forest growth and swooping down from the unassuming sky.

It was over in mere days, cities laid to waste by the metallic creatures of an unknown origin, plains made unsafe from their territorial prowl; even the sky offered no escape as planes were clawed from the sky and set reeling into the maws of the swiftly growing forests. Trees unnaturally twisted to form barriers of wooden steel, the ruined cities overtaken by growth that should have grown in centuries rather than weeks, wide expanses of fields left unwalkable by twisting vines meant to trap and muffle. And over all of that the protective beasts walked their territories urged on my a master unnamed; following the bidding of a race none knew existed until the foolish humans decided it was safe to venture out again.

The fae, fairies, demons, creatures of another realm; this race went by many names bug the fact remained they were here to take back what was theirs. Too long, their leader said, have we cowered in the cover of your industrial hell. No more shall we hide in fear of your smoke smeared air that kills the very people who make it. We have been here long before your kind, and so shall we remain long after. Group your people however you like. Send any weapon of your choice to try and turn the tides to your favor. We will reign over the ashes you crumble to.

What this race of unnatural being didn't count on was a Hero of Ages to rise in a cliche of a fairytale epic. He stood tall over the bones they crushed his brethren too, sword dripping with vengeance and arms splattered with the fruits of his bloodlust. The day had come, for he, Remus, Harkened Duke of the Unseelie War, had clawed his ways from the depths of hell to face-"

"Babes. I love you...so very much. But you've been monologuing for twenty minutes now and I'd hate to waste my coffee by dumping it on your head."

Shoulders dropping in a pout, Remus turned towards his husband, leaning against the counter as he watched Remy reach for his still-hot-somehow coffee while nudging a can over into a growing pile, the plastic recyclables already having been sorted and bagged some time ago. His dark hair hung low over his tired eyes but Remus could still see the spark of amusement in them even as an annoyed huff left his lips. Smiling, he walked over to sit beside Remy, stretching out his legs and sweeping an entire pile of cans to the bigger pile scattering the displaced aluminum across the floor in the process. Ignoring another annoyed sigh he simply leaned his head on the others shoulder and smiled sadly.

"You never wish for something more than this?" He gestured vaguely around their small apartment they were quite lucky to have as Remy say back on his heels carefully so as not to knock his head of his shoulder.

"We're safe here." Punctuating safe with a flick to the back of the other mans head he continued. "Something more...that would mean going outside. And theres no Original Remus' Specialty coffee brew outside now is there?"

"It wouldn't take much to take the French press with us."

"It's starting to worry me how much you're bringing this up lately. I'm pretty useless," he waved his left hand around as emphasis, metal plating refracting the rooms dip lighting. "And you...are very loud. So very loud babes. We'd last a day, maybe two."

"If we had more people-"

"Which we don't. Unless we get a hunter or two stumbling in here wanting to drag a couple of inexperienced fighters along with them I don't see it happening." Putting the empty coffee mug in the sink, he turned back around to find Remus standing just behind him.

"I could fight for us."

"Very brave, but imaginary blades does not a dead beast make."

Remus swiped at the finger attempting to boop his nose, smirking lightly. "I have real blades!"

"Surgical scalpels don't count hun." Remy ducked under the strong arms attempting to pull him closer and bounded back over to his carefully sorted piles. "Now, either help me these or-"

A faint roar cut his words off suddenly, leaving him trembling from more than just the vibrations running through the floor. Remus was quick to be by his side, pulling him down and looping a protective arm around his shoulders. Squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark shades he wore even though he hadn't seen unfiltered sunlight in months he ducked his head down and moved closer into the protective embrace, tensing as another tremor reverberated through his bones. Minutes passed like hours as the couple stayed tense and alert on the floor, the beast eventually quieting, seeming to move off much to their intense relief. Dragging in a deep breath, Remy sagged against Remus, subconsciously rubbing at his left wrist and sinking further into the comfortable lap.

Gasping as he was lifted quickly, a deep blush colored his cheeks as he found himself being scooped up bridal style and twirled around before being carried through the short hall to the bedroom.

"My responsibility!" He cried out in mock desperation as he reached towards his sorted plastics and aluminum, ready to be traded later that week.

"Your plastic castles can wait until morning. It's late and we need sleep." So saying, Remus dumped his load unceremoniously onto the creaky bed and swiftly hopped in after, rolling to trap the barely struggling man under his body with a laugh.

Remy pushed at his shoulder playfully. "Who died and made you the responsible one?"

The mood sobered slightly, a look of pain flashing in the others eyes before quickly being replaced by mirth once more. Before he could offer an apology it was being swallowed effortlessly with a kiss that left him without a breath to spare one.

"Either sleep or I'm experimenting with bean strength again and make you taste test espressos until you faze into next week."

Laughing lightly, he bucked his hips just hard enough to push the other to the side so he could curl into Remus' arms for the night. "I'd rather not repeat that experiment again. I stay for your coffee, not for my stomach issues."

The mechanical beast roared in anger as its tail lashed out to the side, hoping to catch the annoying pest that had lured it out into the field. As beats went it was fairly small, resembling a feline with its lithe frame and small sharp teeth, only coming up to about 10 feet at its shoulder. Crouching down and twisting its head around it caught fleeting movement from the corner of its eye and whipped around to face it, only for the past to dart out of its sight again somewhere below it field of vision. Roaring in frustration it leaped straight into the air, turning and flexing its impressive claws hoping to smash down on whatever it was that eluded its attacks. Landing heavily, the beast took a second to recover from the rocky landing, flexing its spring loaded joints as it started to straighten.

Remus smiled and threw his leg over his husband's hip to pull him even closer, pulling off his shades before resting his chin on the soft brown locks in contentment, swirling thoughts winding down to a rare dull roar as their breaths matched and evened out for the night.

-----

A second was all the past needed to run up the length of its tail, impressive gait taking them to the beasts neck in no time at all to bring their weapon down and through the mechanical monstrosities neck, severing vital components and falling it before it got half of it last roar to rise from its throat.

The pest leaped from the beast as it fell to the side, stilling in the grassy plain with nary a twitch to make a passerby believe it was ever alive in the first place. Straightening from where they had landed, the pest sheathed the spear properly on their back and walked calmly over to the enemy, taking out a faded gray notebook as they did so.

Pushing a thick pair of glasses back up his nose, Logan looked over the creature with a passive interest before sighing and putting the notebook back in his pack. There was no use taking down data of a creature identical to one he had already slain a month prior. He knew he needed to start traveling more if he wanted more diverse data but he was loathe to leave his impromptu lab that lay hidden within woods no one dared enter. Looking around and seeing nothing more in the immediate vicinity he sighed again before adjusting the pack on his back and turning to walk back home.

There was always tomorrow.

This work is also available on AO3!

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[wolfcrunch]

75, Izuku and Kaminari, angst? It might be a weird combo idk.

this was a really fun combo to write!! i haven’t written much kaminari before, so i hope i did him justice!

Prompt #75 - Can I be alone right now?

read on AO3 - request a prompt and character(s) for me to write!

Izuku would like to think that he had a pretty good grasp on the characters that made up his class, thank you very much. Not even a year had passed since they had started here, at U.A, and Izuku would be proud to call the nineteen other members of his class his friends.

Aside from the boy being very knowledgeable in all of their quirks (although this was not something he liked admitting out loud), but he figured he knew a great deal about the individual hobbies his classmates took on, or other little quirky things about them others might not notice.

He knew that Iida always set aside an hour for reading every day, except Sunday’s where he did two. He knew Uraraka, despite her money issues, often liked to partake in homemade craft, often using disposable items that people were about to recycle. He knew that Asui (no, Tsu, he reminded himself) had a collection of pebbles and small rocks in her room, some she had been holding onto since she was a small child with a variety of colors, sizes and shapes.

Kirishima often liked to make his own little wooden figurines that he painted as gifts, thanks to his quirks. Ashido was amazingly good at cooking spicy foods, sometimes even managing to rival Kacchan. Tokoyami would take any sweaters or jumpers that somehow got left in the common room, ’borrowing’ them in his room for the time being and Jirou seemed to, surprisingly, be a big fan of classical and orchestral music. Yaoyorozu and Kouda seemed to both be fans of writing and drawing, respectively.

Last he knew, the latter two were trying to work together and make a short story about their classmates, which he honestly couldn’t wait to see.

But yes, Izuku would say that he knew all of his classmates fairly well - even Kacchan, as hostile as ever, seemed to have a fascination in reptiles of all creatures, and was currently set on getting permission from Mr. Aizawa to bring one to the dorms.

The boy didn’t know if this was normal or not…after all, before coming to U.A, he hadn’t had many, if any friends at all, reluctant to even consider that Kacchan so close…so can you really blame him, wanting to know everything he could about his classmates?

 But if he was being honest…there was one classmate who despite all of this, and despite his own outwardly demeanor…Izuku had to admit that he knew the least about this particular student. 

And it wasn’t that he wasn’t observing the other - it was quite the opposite, really. It just appeared that the student, Kaminari, knew how to hide his interests extremely well. It wasn’t something one would call the electricity-quirked user - secretive.

But…Izuku didn’t know what else to put to the other boy. Maybe he was just really shy with whatever it was that he liked doing? But surely he knew none of the class would laugh or make fun of him…

Not to mention that he wasn’t exactly the closest with the blond - who was usually a member of Kacchan’s small group, and the thought of asking the explosive blond leader was out of the question. Kacchan would tell him…but in his own loud, profanity-filled Kacchan-esque way.

No, if Izuku wanted to get closer to another classmate, this was the perfect opportunity. This was his chance.

 And Izuku might not be the best when it came to socializing and getting together with others…but surely it couldn’t be that hard, right?

 —–

 "Ah, Kaminari!!“

Izuku had waited until the following Monday, carefully keeping an eye on the blond as the group finished their classes for the day, waiting until they all got back to the dorms before he decided to approach the other with a raised hand and a light call. The boy startled out of whatever conversation he’d been having with Mineta, and Izuku only felt a little bad.

Judging by the blush and slight nosebleed on Mineta’s face, he should give himself a bigger pat on the back for stopping wherever that talk had been heading.

"Midoriya?”

The other hero-in-training looked confused, and Izuku couldn’t really blame him - neither went out of their way that much to talk about one another. Izuku could only smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah, it’s about the English assignment we got today…I know you’re pretty good with English, and Todoroki’s not available to help out today…mind if we maybe work out the assignment together?”

Kaminari looked shocked, as if he’d literally shocked himself with his own quirk. “You want me…to help you?”

 In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t the best excuse…but Izuku wasn’t exactly lying either. His English could be downright awful at times. Even with his admiration of All Might…it left him with something less than desired.

 "I…I don’t think I could really be that helpful, eh? I’d just be distraction…“

Izuku refused to back down, "Think about it, Kaminari– you say you always have trouble writing it all down, right? We can help each other…I could even give you some notes on our Maths and Art classes-”

Kaminari moved in the blink of an eye, snatching Izuku’s arms. “Why didn’t you say anything before?! Man, not that I appreciate help from Kacchan, but he can be a reaaaal bummer!”

Izuku smiled at the use of his childhood friend’s nickname, letting the other teen start to drag him along towards the elevators. “So I take that as a yes?”

“Totally!! Oh, dude, we’re gonna have soo much fun!” It seemed as if Kaminari forgot the whole reason they were doing this already, “We’ll go to my room…no offence, but studying and doing homework, All Might watching me from every corner? A real creepy vibe, dude.”

 "Haha, yeah…….wait, what?“

 —–

 "Just throw your stuff wherever ya need to, bro!”

Izuku had seen the blond’s room once - when they had first moved in. He’d been…surprised, sure, by the others taste. But this…

“What an…interesting set up…”

Izuku had no clue where to look first. Kaminari just grinned, trotting right in and all but dumping his schoolbag onto the small table in the middle of the room, books spilling out as he searched through to find his English book.

 And that’s when Izuku saw it.

 A small notebook slid out, falling off the edge and landing on the floor with a quiet thump. Kaminari, too engrossed in finding the correct schoolwork, didn’t notice as Izuku walked over, picking up the notebook carefully in both hands.

It seemed to be about the same size as most of his quirk analysis notebooks…and it seemed extremely worn out, like it had been used a lot. On the front, in big kanji, was just one word that make the unruly-haired teen’s eyes lighten up in excitement.

‘QUIRKS’

Ehhh?! Kaminari keeps a book on quirks?! I mean, I guess it could be anything really…maybe he just thinks of quirks that would be cool to have? Or maybe…

“Hey, Kaminari? I never knew you were one for liking to know things about quirks!” Izuku proclaimed, waving the book around shyly with a hand as the blond’s head whipped up to look at him with wide eyes. Izuku just grinned, turning the notebook over in his hands, almost admiring it. “We should compare notes sometime! It’d be interesting to see how different or alike our notes could be…do you keep updated on heroes or just the class?”

As Izuku spoke excitedly, his scarred fingers began to open the cover of the book. He had no time to react to what came next. As fast as a snake striking, Kaminari’s hand grabbed onto Izuku’s wrist, squeezing tightly as the other hand grasped the book, snatching it out of Izuku’s own.

All Izuku could do was give some sort of yelp of surprise, yanking his hand back hard enough to almost stumble the other teen with his eyes wide.

A throbbing pain started in Izuku’s wrist, and he hissed, covering it with his free hand. “What was that for?”

The One for All user hadn’t seen how Kaminari’s face darkened, snapping back. “You shouldn’t open up other people’s stuff, Midoriya.”

 Izuku had never heard as much malice in the others tone, and even Kaminari seemed caught off guard, taking a step back. “Holy crap dude, I didn’t mean to snap!” he murmured apologetically, keeping his distance as he set the notebook aside on his shelf. “Really, I was way out of line…my notes aren’t any good though, sorry to grab you like that. Is your wrist alright?”

“Ah…yeah, it’s ok…” Izuku mumbled , stretching his fingers before looking at the boy who’d lashed out. “It should be fine.”

“Let me go get you an ice pack from downstairs!” Kaminari insisted, hurrying towards his door. “We can compare notes when I get back, if you’re still up for it?”

“…sure.”

 Izuku didn’t like the unease crawling in his gut, listening halfheartedly as the other told him to sit down and wait before dashing out. Izuku’s free hand tentatively rubbed at his sore wrist, frowning slightly at the force his classmate had decided to use.

Man, I mean, he’s right…but I’ve never seen Kaminari react like that before, and I know he tends to let other people get way closer than that…

An uneasy thought nagged at him, suggesting that perhaps the other had been hiding something within the notebooks contents - but Izuku decided to push that away with a shake of his head. This was Kaminari, after all, one of the nicest people in the class! Surely he, of all people, wasn’t hiding anything to warrant that kind of reaction…

But…

Izuku found himself carefully, quietly heading to the very same shelf Kaminari had put the notebook in the middle of the conflict, only hesitating for a few moments before he reached out, taking the item and sighing softly.

This feels really bad but…I feel like something’s…

Izuku couldn’t really put his finger on the unnatural, bad feeling about it all.

He opened the book–

only for the first page to be empty.

 Frowning, Izuku flipped through the next five, that were equally as blank, and stopped for a moment, eyes raking down the page critically. 

Is it invisible ink maybe? Or maybe he hasn’t even written anything…

But the hero student flipped to the next page, and his throat ran dry. For this page was full…very full. He nearly dropped it, green eyes frantically scanning the pages.

 His stomach crawled as he read the information on the page.

 Name: Aoyama Yuuga (Hero Name: Can’t Stop Twinkling)

D.O.B: 30/5/2XXX

Quirk: Naval Laser

Strengths: Able to shoot out laser in various spots with hero costume. Hyper-aware of surroundings. Able to bend his own light in various shapes. His quirk is exceptionally powerful on its own, and he has deadly accurate aim.

Weaknesses: Stomach hurts after using quirk at full-blast for 10-20 seconds. Has a bit of an ego. Body isn’t very adaptable to his quirk without his belt. Seems to be the odd one out in the class, and acts strangely around them - stands out.

Aoyama seems to think extremely highly of himself, and it would be quite easy to go under the guise of a fan of his, or even a civilian asking about what he calls his “fashion sense”. He loves anything related to France, as well as cheese. Not terribly too smart, but not one you would want to mess with, either. Has not yet trained himself in much when it comes to hand-to-hand or quirkless battling, and being hit with his quirk isn’t an option. Close range battling is best for taking him out.

Rating: 1/5. Body is too unstable to use for different quirks -  however his quirk, with the right base, would be acceptable for H.E.N Project #021

 and that wasn’t all - in any clear space were pictures of the boy himself in all his glory, for once unaware a photo had been taken. There was also a picture taken of the boys hero costume, little bits of writing detailing every part, and even where he would be most vulnerable to strike.

On the next page stated more information about the other blond in their class - his birthplace, current address, and even the basic information about his immediate family - and their quirks, too!

What the hell is all of this…? And this H.E.N Project…

 Izuku wanted to put the book down and leave, feeling a chill go down his spine…but the boy kept going, flicking through the pages and feeling his stomach sink even lower with every filled page he came across.

Ashido Mina

Asui Tsuyu

Iida Tenya

Uraraka Ochako

Mashirao Ojirou

Kirishima Eijirou

Kouda Koji

Satou Rikido

Shouji Mezou

Jirou Kyouka

Sero Hanta

Tokoyami Fumikage

Todoroki Shouto

Hagakure Tooru

Bakugou Katsuki…

 and finally,

 Midoriya Izuku

 Izuku didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring at the bottom of Kacchan’s final page before turning it to his own, not sure what he was suppose to be expecting. Well, what he had been expecting, at the least, was writing about as detailed as all his other classmates.

But how wrong he was.

Kaminari’s assessment on him didn’t only have pictures on the hero student himself - no. There were pictures of several others - heroes.

All Might and Gran Torino.

Izuku’s heart sped up, all air leaving his lungs when he also noticed older photos - not of him, but of an younger Gran Torino, of a younger All Might.

Of Shimura Nana. All Might’s mentor.

Izuku’s hands shook as he finally read the information listed, although his green eyes only stuck to one very specific part, one that just about sent the boy into pure terror at the thought of being found out.

 Quirk: One for All.

Counterpart to All for One. One for All allows Midoriya to have access to immense speed and strength. He is currently the ninth holder, inheriting the quirk from All Might, and is likely being trained to be the next Symbol of Peace. One for All grows as the holder grows and mends with the quirk themselves, meaning that Midoriya’s output will eventually be much stronger than that of All Might in his prime. It also appears that One for All can influence the user whenever stuck under any quirks that capture their mind, or force them to go against their will. One for All is not able to be stolen, and can only be passed with the holder’s permission. This quirk can cause dreams forced by those previous, some of which can cause the quirk to lash out violently whilst the current user is sleeping.

 No…no way…Kaminari…

He know’s about One for All!

 Izuku slammed the book shut, putting the book back where he found it as he stumbled back, eyes wide and body almost trembling. His hands found their way to the straps of his backpack, clutching tightly.

He knows about One for All…I know I’ve almost spilled it a couple of times, but there can’t be any way he could’ve heard one of my talks with All Might, or even Kacchan…No one else would’ve told him. No one else knew the secret and Kaminari well enough to talk about it, especially not to his face! What the heck am I suppose to tell All Might?!

…..

Unless…

 All for One.

It felt as if cold water had been thrown over Izuku at the suggestion conquered up…logically, there was no other way the electric quirked boy knew but…

Kaminari…working with All for One? The League of Villains…?

 …it all made too much sense. The attacks. The camp. Kacchan’s kidnapping and Kamino…everything.

He felt sick. Emotions coiled and squeezed at his insides, as if stones were weighing him down under water, and Izuku wasn’t aware of how hard he had been biting his lip, the coppery iron taste of blood filling his mouth. His face paled at what exactly he was accusing the other boy of.

Of being a traitor…

 I have to go…I can’t be here, it’s too dangerous–

He couldn’t take the book with him. It would arouse too much suspicion. Izuku turned his back on the notebook, hurrying to the door, which Kaminari hadn’t closed behind him. But just before he got out to the hallway–

“Midoriya? Dude, you alright? You’re looking kinda pale there.”

Izuku jumped almost several feet in the air, whipping around in fright as Kaminari appeared at the other end of the hallway, coming to meet him with an ice pack in one hand. The One for All user couldn’t help but step back, earning a puzzled look from the blond.

“Midoriya…?”

“A-Ah, sorry Kaminari…something came up,” Izuku couldn’t stop the stutter in his voice, pulling on his bag straps and forcing a wane smile across his face in an attempt to convince the other. “My, uh, my mum called me. Something happened at home and I– I just really gotta go and sort this out, you know? I need to…can I be alone right now?”

Izuku’s gaze averted to the carpet hallway flooring, toeing at the material before he made to go around Kaminari, giving him another uncertain smile. “Thanks for the ice pack, but my wrist barely hurts–”

 "Midoriya.“

 Izuku blinked, and Kaminari went on the offensive. With his quirk crackling around his fingers, the blond had struck out, slamming a hand on Izuku’s chest and letting loose. All in time that was not enough for the target to react as the taller boys quirk reacted immediately, striking out.

The electricity ran its course through Izuku’s veins, setting them alight in fiery pain as he let out a shriek - one that Kaminari quickly covered up with his other hand, dropping the ice pack. Izuku’s legs gave way as the shocks zapped and crackled across his entire body, limbs locking up with Izuku’s mouth gaping open. His throat closed over, stopping any oxygen.

With a vision swimming of black and white, Izuku tried to give out a weak cry, doing his best to fight off the unconsciousness that threatened to submerge him. The sting of copper filled the back of his mouth, and Kaminari crouched besides the fallen boy, golden eyes watching him like a predator.

Kaminari, hair standing up due to the voltage of his quirk, only gave a sickly sweet smile at his classmates predicament, going to pat the cheek of the freckled boy. His voice was muffled, but Izuku could still hear him. Hear the calmness cold that took over the others tone.

"If only you had kept your hands to yourself, Deku…what a naive little hero wannabe.”

No…I can’t…All Might!! Someone…!

But the downed boy couldn’t move his mouth, his tongue as heavy as led, and the student above him sighed.

“I kinda liked your work ethic, ya know? But, well…all good things gotta come to an end, right?”

 And that was the last thing Izuku heard, his body finally going into shutdown and static filling his eardrums, the unconsciousness gripping him and dragging him into the void with its deathly claws, claiming its prize.

  Kaminari scowled at the now knocked-out boy, scoffing as he got up and nudged the smaller boy’s face with his foot. What an idiot.

He quickly looked, making sure no one was entering the floor nor leaving their rooms before he grabbed hold of one of Izuku’s arms, dragging him into his room and shutting the door behind him.

“That was easier than I thought…”

Dragging him across the floor, Kaminari quickly found some rope he had stored away to tie and bound the others arms and legs, shoving him all too roughly into his closet before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

The number he dialed he practically knew off by heart, and he was sure to send a password via text so that the receiver knew it was in fact him.

The phone rung three times before being picked up.

“You better have a good reason for calling, kid.”

  Kaminari couldn’t help the grin that spread across his features. The giddiness that filled his being, almost wanting to make the boy prance around his room in delight.

“Dr. Tsubasa, I got him. Midoriya Izuku is ready for transport to your facility.”

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Ch. 4 (Pynch Soulmate-AU)

I realized I never posted Ch 4 for my Pynch AU! So here it is, for anyone interested, HERE is a link to my masterlist where you can find the first 3 chapters. (THIS WILL NOT MAKE SENSE WITHOUT READING THE OTHERS) I’m also on Ao3 as glam_reaper2 <3 

Anyways, this fic is the writing I’m most proud of, and I can’t wait to drop Ch 5 this week! 

TW: Adam’s Dad/ mentioning abuse, graphic depiction of violence, mention of suicide attempt.

Adam Parrish woke in the early hours on the third day after the alley. The pre-dawn glow streaming through the crack in his curtains cast shadows on the plants and books covering his shelves. Eyes heavy and throat raw, Adam took a deep breath. In through his nose, oxygen flooding his lungs, battling to release the weight that had long since laid claim on the space behind his ribs. He held it until he thought he might choke. Vision blurring, heartbeat hammering in his ears, a pulsing reminder that he was still here; then in a rush, he released. The momentary weightlessness was a small reprieve.

The tiny arm slung across his abdomen a reminder that, at least for now, he wasn’t alone. Blue had crawled into his bed the afternoon before and stayed with him through the long night. Adam moved her arm off and slid as carefully and quietly as he could from the bed, he didn’t wish to wake her. She needed sleep, the exhaustion evident on her face even now. 

He moved toward the window, reaching out to open his curtains, allowing the morning light to flood in. And there he stood, hand still holding the curtain, eyes trained on the horizon. He remained unmoved, watching the sun crawl from the earth bathing everything in its path in colors Adam had never seen. They were fresh, warm, soft. They stole his breath and for a moment, a lifetime, he stood frozen and allowed that hopeful warmth to settle in his bones. In awe of the majesty of nature, swallowed whole by the gift of color, broken by it. 

His breath stuttered.

The man in the alley would never see a sunrise, or a sunset. He had given Adam this gift and left mere hours before Adam could have reciprocated. His thoughts spiraled, fingers tightening on the curtain, eyes burning. The sunrise moved from photographic clarity to an impressionist painting, and salt kissed his lips.

“Adam…” Blue breathed from his side, reaching out and pulling aside the second curtain to allow a full view.

“It’s-” Adam choked on a whisper, “It’s magnificent, and he’ll never see.”

~~

Adam spent the rest of the week coping in the only way he knew how: throwing himself into his jobs and school work. Blue and Henry had closed ranks, showering him with their own personal versions of love. 

For Henry, it was distraction, mindless conversation, a steady companionship during hours in the library. Henry Cheng, though initially someone Adam never saw friendship potential in, was more than most gave him credit for. On the outside, he was loud. From his clothes to hair, he was unabashedly himself: caring, vibrant, loyal. Adam appreciated the effort, never pressured to talk about what was clearly tearing him apart. 

Blue was the opposite, in a very Blue way. She brought him coffees and hugs, asked him about his mood, and made highly unsubtle references to “healthy coping mechanisms.” She was kind but stern, pushing him towards what he knew logically was the next step. But this trauma was too big, too heady to file away in the closet in his mind marked “DANGER.”

It had been a little over a week since he watched his first true sunrise when Blue decided to take off the kid gloves.

“Look.” Her voice was as unwavering as her eye contact, sitting next to him on the chipped-white metal bench in the alley beside Nino’s Cafe where they took their break. Nino’s was his second job, and Blue’s “fun money/ free caffeine” job, covering the hours she wasn’t working on her photography portfolio.

Adam held her gaze, and his breath. Her tone brokered no room for argument, and he knew he had spent enough time avoiding answering anything truthfully… Her forcing a “talk” on him was inevitable. He nodded once to indicate he was listening, and waited for her to continue.

“I know you aren’t ready to talk, and that is completely fine. I won’t bullshit you and pretend I have any idea what kind of pain you’re in. No- no,” she held up a finger to cut off Adam’s rebuttal. “Don’t shake your head and feed me you’re ‘i’m fine’ because we both know you’re not. That being said you’re a grown ass man, who makes his own decisions and I respect that. But, Adam?”

He cocked his head to the side, and made a noncommittal grunt.

“You need to do something. You know I always advocate therapy, but -don’t scoff asshole- but, I’m also aware that it’s ‘not your thing’ so I had another idea. Here,” Blue thrust a bag towards Adam. It was a recycled paper shopping bag, rolled at the top and lighter than he expected.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Open it.”

He unrolled the bag skeptically and peered inside. His right eyebrow hitched as he looked away from the bag’s contents and towards Blue. “The fuck?”

“Letters. That’s my idea. Something I never told you but, when my dad left I had all this rage and I had no one to direct it towards. My mom got me a pack of envelopes and blank paper and told me to try writing a letter to him. She told me I didn’t ever have to send what I wrote to him if I didn’t want too, and I didn’t. The act of venting everything in a direct way really helped me, it was more than a diary, or whatever, because these were shots at an intended target. I could be mad and then seal it in an envelope and the weight in my chest lifted a little. I thought maybe…” She motioned towards the bag with a crooked smile and a shrug.

“Letters…” Adam repeated. “To a dead guy?”

“Yes.”

“Blue, I don’t know.”

“Look, just take the damn bag. Do it, or don’t. I can’t and wont force you. But at least consider it.” Then she rose to her full height, the most intimidating 5 feet he had ever seen, giving him what could only be called a “mom look” and sauntered back inside.

~~

That night, weighted down by grief and half delirious with exhaustion, Adam opened the bag. He pulled out the box of white envelopes, cracked open the pack of college-rule paper, and grabbed a black pen from the cup at the right of his desk. This is so stupid, he thought as he put his pen to paper...

i. You, I never knew your name. You left before I ever had the chance to ask. I wish more than anything that I knew your name, at least then I’d be able to grieve a person instead of a stranger in an alley. You were… Exquisite. Even floating in a pool of your own life, you were beautiful. You were. Past tense. Gone. I dreamed of knowing you. The idea of you, in abstract my whole life. I didn’t know who you’d be, but, still I dreamed. It was my secret. The odds of finding your soulmate are so slim these days, and yet… In the quiet hours of the night, bone tired and barely standing at work, or when the hunger pains threatened to cripple me, I’d pull you out of the careful place in my mind, and dream. It’s dangerous to dream. I know better now. You fucking left me. How dare you? It’s probably a good thing you’ll never read these letters. Blue, my best friend, suggested I write them to help me “find closure.” That’s very Blue. She’s all about self-care and talking through feelings. Henry, my other friend, agrees with her. So here I am, attempting to vomit my heart on a page in hope of finding some semblance of peace. There is so much I wish I could have told you, and so much more that would have terrified me to admit. That’s one benefit to your never knowing me I suppose... Honestly, it was probably for the best that, in the end, you never had the chance to try knowing me. I’m a disaster. I’m unknowable. And that’s, fine. Ya know? I’m okay, I think. Holding onto that which sets me apart, and working my hardest to  fix everything else that’s in my power. That’s how I got here, Georgetown. I did it myself.  That’s something I would have told you, because it’s something I am proud of, though I’ll never say. I worked 3 jobs through highschool, made straight A’s, volunteered, and slaved away. I saved money in a shoebox under a loose vent in my trailer to buy books. My dad would have killed me, literally, if he’d ever found that. I was supposed to give them everything, but I hid that. I hid so much. I got really good at hiding in that place. Henrietta… What a fucking shit show. Anyways, I saved and pushed myself. I think I ate maybe once a day for those years, if I was lucky? I know I barely slept. But it was worth it the day the acceptance letter came in the mail. Georgetown. 3 hours away. A world away. A full ride. I was so fucking happy that day, I even allowed myself to dip into the shoebox to buy a coke fom the gas station by the autoshop I worked at. That was my life then, and still is now, to some extent. Small rewards, focus on the bigger picture. Work, work, work, and then one day have the power and money, the status, the ability to fight for people like me. I had barely put the box back when my dad, Robert, saw me holding my acceptance letter, and a $20. I wasn’t allowed to have money in my room, even if I made it myself. It was “for the family” he always said. “Do you want us to starve?” “you think you’re so fancy at your charter school don’t you?” always the same. Always cruel. So I’m standing there, money and letter in hand, smiling like an idiot when he comes in. I’ll never forget that day. I’d taken so many beatings from him by the time I was 17, it was second nature really. But this one? For some reason it surprised me. I thought for sure that he would be capable of some sense of joy. I got into college, for free. But Robert wasn’t like that. I could smell the beer on his breath. Keystone, always fucking Keystone. It smells like piss. It still makes me gag.  “What the fuck is that?” he asked. And I didn’t know how to respond. I remember stuttering. I was always stuttering, mumbling, hiding, lying. Anything to avoid the inevitable. “I asked you a question, boy.”  I panicked. “Its, uh, a letter, sir. An acceptance letter. From college. I-I got in.” Apparently it wasn’t the right response. I don’t remember much after that, I know he told me I had no right to hide money because I “owed him.” I always owed him. For breathing, for having the audacity to live. That night was the worst I can remember though. He wouldn’t stop. He was screaming about how I wasn’t allowed to just leave. I took more hits than usual, but I could have handled it. I’m no stranger to broken bones and bruises. But I was so scared this time. I knew, somehow I knew that this was it. If I didn’t get out he was going to kill me. Kill me because of a $20 and a full ride. I tried to run. I did.  I never made it very far though. He caught me, and the last thing I remember was a screaming pain in the left side of my head. I don’t know why I’m even writing all this, maybe Blue and Henry were right? I’ve never even told them all of this. I really doubt I would have told you this had I been given the chance. I would have stuck to the barest details: Deaf in left ear. Accident. Long time ago. I don’t talk to my parents.  Or maybe I wouldn’t have hid…Soulmates are a safe space right? Through whatever magic, or science, or God (if you believe in one of those, I don’t- hope you wouldn’t have cared) we are supposed to be able to share it all. A balance. A quiet place. A home. I wonder what you would have said if I told you? I hope it wouldn’t have been pitying. I don’t do pity. I’ll never know that though, which is maybe a relief? I don’t know. I hope you would have been proud though, that I did get out. Of what I’m doing with my life now. I haven’t even told “you” have I? I got a double Bachelors in Political Science and Conflict Resolution. I’m currently taking a Masters in Public Policy. I know, most people see “Georgetown” and “Politics” and think “Here’s another white guy with dreams of power.” But it’s not that. I’m going to change things, my thesis is on Domestic Violence: prevention and programs. I’m going to fight for the kids like me, in the homes like mine. I’m going to fight for every time I didn’t hit back. Every bruise and broken bone. I’m going to change the world for the Adam Parrish’s. I’m going to bring an end to the Roberts.  That’s what I’m doing now. I guess I’ll be okay without you. I’ve always been better at work than relationships anyway. If we’re being honest you probably would have hated me. I’m terrible with making time for anyone. I have goals though, I don’t have the luxery to fuck around. I’m not conducive to a partnership, and I’m not even sure I’d be capable of love.  I would have tried for you though.  Maybe you needed that. Maybe if you’d had it, love, you wouldn’t have ended up in the alley. I don’t know. I wish I could ask you why. I just… fuck. This letter is getting severely out of hand.  It doesn’t matter why you did it.  You did. And that’s that I suppose.  Forever a mystery, the man with the beautiful face and ice blue eyes. “I used to build dreams about you.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Benediction That’s all you are now. A dream.

He folded the pages in thirds, slipping them in an envelope, and sealing them away. On the outside he wrote the number one, then slid the envelope into a crack between one of his potted plants and a row of books on his window sill. Then Adam crawled into bed and finally slept; for once it was a dreamless- restorative sleep.

~~

Shattered heart hanging heavy in his chest, Adam looked up when the bell above the door to Nino’s chimed the arrival of a new patron. The young couple made their way towards the counter. The smaller man leaning lovingly into the side of his partner, while the taller man looked down lovingly, arm draped across the first’s shoulders. It was a quiet moment, something so personal and beautiful Adam looked down, he didn’t want to intrude. His hands were shaking, a bitter jealousy crashing like waves in a storm through his entire being. He took a steadying breath, trying to quell the rage, and uncapped the black marker, grabbing a cup to prepare to take their order. 

“Hi,” he bit out through his customer service smile. He looked up from the cup in hand, allowing a little of his Henrietta lilt to color his words into something close to friendly. “Welcome to Nino’s, what can I get started for you today?” 

“Hi! Can we please get a- Oh, wow!” The shorter man had stopped mid-sentence and leaned close to Adam across the counter. “Your eyes are so blue! Babe, have you ever seen eyes so beautiful?” Adam wanted to fucking snap. The larger man leaned in as well and hummed in approval.

“No I haven’t, sorry. I know this is probably so inappropriate,” he leaned back, tone placating. “We don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, this is just all new for us-”

Adam didn’t fucking care.

“-Anyways, can we please get two Americanos, and a a slice of apple pie with two forks?”

Of course, Adam nodded. He finished the order and made the drinks with shaking hands and a barely controlled rage burning him from within, blooming pink across his cheeks.

 He couldn’t breathe. 

When he returned home, he slammed his door and flew to his desk; practically tearing a lined sheet from the pile of supplies from Blue and began to write. Pen pressed so hard small tears formed in the paper as he purged…

ii.

You.

Fuck you for what you did. For what you did to yourself. What you did to that man in the alley. Screaming. Begging. Holding you together.

 For what you did to me. 

I hate you. 

I hate that I love you. The idea of you. Because you couldn’t even wait for me. I never got the chance to love the real you, and I loathe you for it.

You fucking left me alone.

All this goddamn color, all these beautiful things, and I’m still living in black and white. 

I’m drowning.

You were my hope. 

You were my end game. Sometimes, I fear you’ll be my end. 

I can’t get away from the idea of you.

I see your face every time I close my eyes.

You’re haunting me.

You’re ruining me.

Fuck you. 

I hate you.

Fuck, You.

You…

Why did you leave me all alone?

When he finished his breath was ragged, chest rising and falling in heavy swells. Angry tears drying splotches across the page before him, turning certain words into a blurry but still legible watercolor. He threw his pen across the room, shoved the letter into the envelope marked 2, and placed it alongside the first. 

~~

Adam spent the remaining days of September numb. He had taken to carrying a few sheets of paper and envelopes in his messenger bag in case he ever needed them. 

It was on one particular afternoon -two days before September ended- as he sat in Nino’s sipping coffee and staring blankly at the textbook in front of him, that he wrote his third letter. He felt untethered, unbalanced, the sky outside was such a pale blue that his mind began to wander. With a sigh, he pulled out a sheet of paper, and an envelope marking the outside with the number three. 

iii.

You,

I’m so lost…

I can’t fall asleep without seeing your eyes.

Unfocused.

Unblinking. 

Ice cold.

Fathomless.

Broken.

I wonder how they looked when you were happy… I hope you were happy, truly happy. At least once there before the end.

I bet they were beautiful.

Come back.

Please…

Adam stayed staring at that plea, that unanswered wish, until his coffee was cold. He wondered if this would ever end, he wasn’t unfamiliar with want. Adam had wanted more than anyone he had ever known. He was accustomed to the pain, the resentment that came with wanting that which you cannot have, but unlike all the other times this was wholly unattainable. No amount of extra shifts, A’s on homework, perfect test scores, hard-work would ever give him this particular want. 

He packed his bag slowly, tossing his coffee in the trash by the door and waving half-heartedly at his coworker behind the counter. The bell chimed his departure and he made his way out into the chilly September afternoon. The walk from Nino’s to his apartment was blessedly short. As he rounded the corner at the end of the block he was assaulted by the acrid smell of smoke.

Adam looked up, chill already forgotten, for the source and his eyes landed on a peculiar sight: A handsome man, in a nice crisp peacoat and cashmere scarf. Standing, hands clasped behind his neck, staring into the open maw of a smoking, Candy-Orange, ‘73 Camero.

“Hey!” he half shouted, making his way towards the gentleman, his greeting had clearly disturbed an emotional crisis. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, did you maybe need some help?”

“Oh, hi. Yes, Hello. I’m, no thank you. I’m alright. I’ll give someone a call, The Pig is an auto-shop frequent flyer I’m afraid. Though, I’ve never seen it smoke quite so heavily.” The man half laughed, and shook his head.

“I don’t mind, I’m actually a mechanic down at Boyds. I can take a peak and see if I can do anything here if you’d like? Save you a trip.”

“Are you sure? I’d be more than happy to pay y-”

Adam shook his head fiercely, “No need. I’m Adam, by the way.” 

He held out his hand towards the man, who grasped his in kind. A vibrant smile lit his face, “Lovely to meet you Adam, I’m Gansey.”