#editing six months later for world building purposes

[whumping-every-day]

Vampire Whump 9: Healing

I still cannot believe the support this series has garnered. My deepest thanks to each and every one of you for your patience! 

Content Warnings for this one: Questionable medical know-how, muzzles, reluctant caretaking, dehumanization, the briefest allusion to/mention of sexual assault. (nothing graphic, it’s a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of deal). 

Masterlist 

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The water is warm, trickling down the vampire’s shoulders. Callum dunks the sponge back into the bucket, just like he’s been doing for the past fifteen minutes, but the vampire still flinches.

It’s on its knees, still naked, and the creature shivers as the water cools. It’s filthy, it knows; its skin is coated in a sticky layer of grime and sweat and blood. It smells, too, like piss and death and stale terror. It doesn’t understand why the hunter is touching it. It doesn’t understand why anyone would touch it.

At this point, the creature has begun to wonder if the hunter has well and truly lost his mind. It’s not supposed to wonder anything, it knows, and it tries not to. But sometimes, when the man does such strange things… sometimes it’s hard.

Only a madman would bring a vampire into the comfort of his home, leave it unrestrained, and then try to bathe it.

The vampire is shivering, but there’s a certain level of disconnection between the creature and its body. Compliance has earned it mercy until now, but punishment will come soon, and right now the hunter is touching it.

For the moment, though, it’s almost like the man isn’t trying to hurt it. But that is blasphemous. Every touch the vampire can remember has always brought it pain. It remembers Callum’s hands on it the day before, wrenching and pulling and shoving, and it feels sick.

“Hmm. We’re going to have to cut this, I think.” The hunter reaches up and slides his fingers into its hair, and it’s so sudden that the vampire cries out in blind panic and recoils. It’s been grabbed like this before – foreign hands gripping its hair, holding it down, pulling and wrenching and yanking. The vampire’s hair is matted and filthy, and when it shies away, Callum’s fingers get caught in the knots. Its scalp lights up with pain, and the far too familiar sensation hurtles the creature into a flashback.

The sense-memory floods its awareness without warning, and abruptly it’s held aloft, chains digging into every limb, agony eating into its face. In real time, the vampire gives a bitten-off cry and lurches forward on its knees. It doesn’t even notice as the hunter yanks his hand back, cursing colorfully, a few brown strands caught in his fingers. It’s quick; one moment the creature is tense but stationary, and the next all it can sense is the surrounding crowds, and the violent, unrelenting passage of day and night, and the burning— burning, burning, it would never stop burning, and the hands on it would never relent, not until they’d consumed every last part of it –

“Whoa, hey!” Callum’s heart has kicked into overdrive at the vampire’s sudden movement, but it doesn’t even seem like the creature is seeing him.

Instead it whimpers and gags on the next inhale, cowering in place, and its gasps for air are only getting thinner. It can feel the memory of the sun, burning its skin off layer by layer as the assembled humans watch, as they laugh. It can taste the blood from screaming too loud for too long, and it can taste the helplessness when the screaming stopped but the pain didn’t.  

There’s a sudden, sharp blow to its cheek, and the vampire abruptly snaps back into the present. It’s wheezing on every inhale, head turned to the side. The hunter is crouched across from it, one hand extended. It shudders and gasps, feeling the echoing memory of being burned alive.

“Hey. Hey, yeah, there you go.” The hunter’s talking, but the vampire feels like it’s spinning in wild circles, nothing to hold it down. “Hey bud, try and focus on me, okay? You’re right here. They’re not… You’re not there anymore. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The air feels like sandpaper as the vampire cowers, and it whimpers a pathetic apology. Only some of the words make sense. It feels like it’s trembling from the inside out, like its core has decided to shake apart.

It registers only belatedly that the hunter has finally struck it, and of all the things, the vampire is grateful. It is used to much harsher correction than an open hand.

“You back with me, bud?” The man’s low baritone has the vampire shrinking inwards again. “Hey, little bat. I need to know if you’re hearing me. Nod yes if you are, okay?” It’s phrased strangely, but there’s an order cloaked within the words, and the creature quickly jerks its head in a nod. “Okay, good. That’s good.”

The vampire does not dare look any higher than the hunter’s knees, and when Callum crouches down it cringes away.

It knows its place, it does. It doesn’t need to be reminded.

“Easy,” the hunter murmurs. “I don’t know where you went, kid, but it’s over now.” There’s silence for a moment, and the vampire quivers and waits. “… I have to finish washing you,” the hunter says, apparently deciding that he’s waited long enough. “Nod if you understand.”

Sometimes, it’s easier to disappear into its own head. The vampire understands that the question isn’t really a question, and even if it was, there would only be one answer to give.

The human is careful with it, and the creature is grateful. But it still goes fuzzy and glassy-eyed as Callum returns to sponging the filth and dirt off its skin.

By the time Callum is finished, the vampire’s skin is three shades lighter, the water in the bucket is nearly black, and there are spots of fresh blood beading up around its neck and wrists. It’s not perfectly clean, but it’s clean enough that the abuse is starker, without the cover of filth. The hunter grimaces and gently dabs at its throat again, and the vampire trembles and endures it.

“Okay. That’s as good as it’s going to get, I think.”

Water still drips in rivets from the vampire’s bare skin, and it tracks the motion of Callum’s hands as the hunter drops the sponge into the bucket. Then the man stands up, and the creature flinches habitually.

“I’ll be right back,” the hunter mutters. “Stay.”

The vampire is unaccustomed to being spoken to – but whenever Callum gives an instruction it can understand, the creature latches onto it like a lifeline. The other hunters had not cared whether it obeyed or not; it would be hurt just the same either way. But this hunter gives commands, and he speaks to it, and he offers lenience in exchange for obedience.

It’s more mercy than the vampire deserves.

The door is not locked, but it stays where it was put, even as the hunter’s steps fade. In the man’s absence, the creature dares to glance around at its surroundings.

The walls are stone, and there’s a drain in the floor. There is a shelf on the opposite wall with soap and a second sponge, and a wooden stool tucked beneath it. Beyond that the room is bare, and the vampire wraps its good arm around its middle, trying uselessly to conserve warmth.

The door screeches back open, and the vampire’s back hits the far wall before Callum is even fully in the room.

“Hey,” the man says softly. “Easy, pointy. It’s just me.” The words aren’t reassuring, but the vampire only whimpers when the man takes a step closer. Callum hesitates at the sound, and after a moment he drops down into a crouch, holding up the bundle he’s holding.

“I brought towels,” he says. “There are clothes waiting in your room. Let’s get you dry. Then we can take another crack at fixing you up.”

It’s too much information all at once. Clothes and towels and fixing are not things meant for filthy, bloodsucking leeches. And why bother fixing it up, if the hunter would only break it apart again after? The creature trembles under the weight of its own confusion. This is a trick, certainly, a test.

Eventually, the hunter sighs.

“Alright. How about this? You, come here.” The hunter snaps his fingers and then taps the ground at his feet, and relief floods the creature like cool water, because that, at least, is a command it understands.

This man hasn’t punished it for obeying yet, but it still cowers low as it drags itself across the floor. The thought of walking is laughable; instead it moves in an awkward, dragging crawl, and after several moments it drops into a pile at the hunter’s feet. Crooked fingers tremble a mere few inches from the hunter’s boots.

“Okay, good,” the man murmurs. Something settles around bony shoulders, and the vampire shrinks away and whines piteously. It’s being still and obedient, but it doesn’t understand.

The hunter finishes wrapping the towel around its torso, and the vampire shivers and stays put.

“We’ll definitely need to cut your hair,” he muses absently. He’s got a second towel out, squeezing the worst of the moisture out of the creature’s matted hair. The towel comes back dirty, and the hunter tisks.

Callum had removed the belt holding the vampire’s left arm in place so that he can wash it, and the limb feels disconnected and heavy. There is a numbness extending down the vampire’s arm and into its fingers, but there are still enough other hurts that it hardly notices.

“Okay, easy does it. Now let me see your arm…” Callum takes its wrist, and the vampire gives a small, broken warble. It remembers the strength in those hands as the human had snapped its shoulder. It had been so easy, like the vampire was just a broken doll.

“Shh,” the hunter murmurs. “You’re doing fine, kid. I don’t want to hurt you.” I don’t want to hurt you. The creature muffles another little whimper, because it knows that those words are a lie. “I have to see if your shoulder is healing properly,” comes next, and the vampire flinches, drops its eyes.

It doesn’t try to escape, but the vampire can’t help the way it cowers under the hunter’s shadow. Its wrist is still horribly swollen, even though the bone has been set, and the vampire whimpers softly as Callum carefully prods at it.  

“Try moving your fingers for me.” The creature tries to twitch its fingers and is met with limited success. “Hmm,” the hunter muses, watching as the creature struggles to move its ring finger. The vampire gives a little whimper in response. This isn’t the result Callum wants, and the human has given it so few commands thus far; just stay and quiet and do as you’re told.

It remembers too late that the man wants it silent, and the creature sinks lower to the floor and bites its tongue to stop its whining. Its wrist is still awkwardly extended, held out for the hunter to examine, or to hurt. There is more light prodding, and the vampire swallows the urge to retch and squeezes its eyes shut.

Callum’s grip changes, then, and more pain flares up from its bad shoulder, and the vampire’s whole body crunches inwards with the effort of staying still and quiet. The pain rolls through it in sickening pulses, and there is more just around the corner, as soon as the man decides to pull or yank or squeeze. The creature can only tremble in place and wait.

“That’s got to hurt,” the hunter mutters. “Try moving your fingers again? One at a time, there you go.” The vampire is confused and terrified, but it marshals its energy and obeys.

Its left thumb and index finger move without issue; its middle finger is stiff, and it shakes with exertion. More than one of the digits is crooked, but those are old injuries, none of them fresh enough to hurt.

Its ring finger and pinky won’t move at all. The vampire tries, but that numbing sensation from earlier is back, shooting all the way from its brutalized shoulder down into its hand.

The vampire muffles a little whimper and tries to curl all its fingers into a fist, but only the first three respond.

“Alright, okay. That’s enough.” It’s such a small thing to do, but the vampire’s shoulders slump as it gives up. The weakness is like a living thing, weighing down its limbs. “So there’s some nerve damage. Interesting.”

The hunter seems neither pleased nor displeased, and the vampire hangs in limbo and waits for his mood to swing one way or the other. Instead, Callum bends to scoop up the discarded belt. “This has to go back on for at least another four days. There’s not much I can do about the nerve damage. We’ll just have to wait and see if your body can repair itself.”

The vampire isn’t listening. Of course, it tries at first – but the information is coming too quickly, and in too harsh a juxtaposition to what it’s used to.

It exists to be hurt, so that its betters can delight in its suffering. The creature knows this, and it does not understand why it hasn’t been beaten yet, or worse.

It is toweled dry gingerly, and then its bad arm is secured against its torso with the belt.

“I know you’re exhausted,” the man says. “I’m going to let you rest very soon. But I have to take a look at the rest of the damage first. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable…”

The vampire squeezes its eyes shut when the man reaches for it, but it doesn’t struggle when it’s picked up. The position puts its face right next to the hunter’s neck, and the creature smells flesh and veins and blood, and it whimpers and twists its face away.

So far, the hunter has been merciful and allowed it to remain unmuzzled. But in order to keep such a privilege, the creature must be absolutely harmless.

“Now, this is going to twinge, and I am not going to get bitten by accident.” The hunter is calm and assured as he nudges the cell open and deposits the vampire back on the thin cot. There are several somethings waiting on the stool; water, bandages, metal and leather – the muzzle.

Even knowing that the device isn’t made of iron, the vampire can’t help but whimper.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I figured,” Callum muses. “But I need to clean up your back. And your feet.” The hunter draws in another breath, like he’s about to add something else, then changes his mind, shakes his head. “We already know your ribs are a nightmare. But I don’t know how much I can do about that.”

The vampire isn’t sure if it’s meant to respond to the information. But it understands what bitten by accident means, and when Callum takes a step closer the vampire whimpers and shies away.

“Easy,” the hunter says. “Don’t go making this difficult, now.” It’s a reminder, of course; a reminder that there will be no escaping whatever the hunter has planned for it. It’s the gentlest of such reminders than the creature can remember, and it sinks lower on the cot in response and whines its obedience.

Callum knows he’s looming, but the vampire is shrinking away from him so hard that it’s impossible not to. “I thought we could do this a one-or-the-other type way… but it looks like you might not be up for choices, huh.” He’s not surprised, anymore, by the lack of response. The vampire is nearly bestial in the way it responds to him; as far as Callum can tell, beyond yes or no questions, it reacts more to his tone than to what he says.

It’s animalistic. And Callum would be tempted to keep thinking of the creature that way, except for the naked, human terror in its eyes whenever he moves too quickly or speaks too harshly.

“Same deal as last time,” he mutters. “You go where you’re put, and I’ll make this quick.” He picks up the muzzle and undoes the straps, and watches the vampire swallow a whimper.

He’s gentler, this time, when he puts the muzzle on, despite the danger of having his fingers so close to the creature’s teeth. He’d taken the bit out that morning, and Callum adjusts the smooth curve of leather to make sure nothing pinches before buckling it closed. The vampire is completely docile while he works.

“There we go, good,” he murmurs. It feels natural to talk to the creature, even if Callum is still unsure of how much it understands. But he is fairly certain that he hasn’t imagined the vampire’s response. Some of the constant, numbing terror seems to ease just a little when it knows that Callum is pleased.

Of course, he thinks bitterly, that makes sense. He wonders what a difference in treatment it would have made, before, if those other hunters had been pleased or not.

“Now down,” he murmurs, and he turns the creature and presses, and it folds under the direction like paper. There’s a nearly inaudible whine as the vampire settles belly-down on the cot, and Callum hushes it softly. He goes to pat the creature’s bare flank, like he would to calm his horse, but the skin there is concave, stretched too thin over pulped ribs. He grits his teeth, turns away.

“Stay,” he says, and all movement from the vampire immediately ceases.

The coming operation would be a lot easier in his lab, but Callum’s not sure he can handle the creature’s terrorized, hollow-eyed stare again so soon. And he’s sure the vampire appreciates being on the cot instead of the cold exam table.

There’s clean water, alcohol, and a cloth waiting, as well as bandages and an assortment of sutures and creams. 

Callum has a wary alliance with the town’s doctor where Callum treats his own injuries, unless he’s been hurt badly enough that he physically can’t... and on those occasions when he shows up on the doc’s doorstep bleeding too heavily to staunch, he pays the doctor triple, and after he limps out the back door on his own power. But there’s no amount of gold that would convince a human doctor to see a vampire, even if the risk factor wasn’t so great. So Callum and this little vampire are on their own. 

“Fuck, kid,” he mutters as he crouches down beside the cot. The creature’s rib cage is visibly misshapen, even (or especially) when seen from the back. The knobs of its spine protrude grotesquely from its body, like its skin has been suctioned right down to its bones. Some of the scars are old, raised and textured, and some aren’t scars at all, still open and oozing. Many are somewhere in between, but all dealt with the same casual cruelty that Callum has come to expect. There’s nothing deliberate about the injuries; this damage had been dealt carelessly, angrily. Hatefully.

The vampire is quivering as it waits, and when Callum carefully touches a patch of bruised skin, it twitches and lets out a muffled sob.

“C’mon, now,” Callum says. “I’m not hurting you.” Not yet, anyway. Not on purpose. “It won’t be like yesterday,” he murmurs. “I’m just cleaning out these open wounds, and I need to see what’s broken.” It’s not a question of if, just of what. “If you haven’t bled out already, I don’t think you need stitches.”  

The vampire flinches minutely, and then there’s nothing left to say.

Most of the damage is visible to the naked eye, what with how gaunt the creature it, but Callum checks anyway. Its pelvis is in one piece, its hips are where they should be – although the vampire gasps and whines piteously as Callum tests the one on the left. He doesn’t like the way its ribs crunch and move with every inhale.

“Alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs as the examination goes lower. It turns his stomach, but Callum braces himself and checks for signs of a different kind of assault. There is nothing – or at least, there is no evidence present.

Below that, the vampire’s knees are swollen, and there’s a visible dent in the bone of its right shin. Callum frowns, then prods, very gently. There’s no reaction from the creature; an old break, then. Further examination reveals that it’s the vampire’s tibia bone, and it was caved inwards and then healed incorrectly.

The creature won’t be able to walk until it heals, but then, that also applies to its recently set hip joint. And, Callum discovers as he continues, it also applies to the soles of the vampire’s feet.

Tatters. That’s the only word Callum can think of describe the state they’re in. He takes one of the creature’s ankles, skinny and knobby, and the flesh there is still open and raw from the iron manacles. The vampire flinches at the contact, and its foot jerks, like it might pull away – but it quickly goes still again.

“That’s it, little bat,” Callum soothes as he looks over the damage. “You’re doing fine.” There’s still dirt caked in the open wounds, and Callum lets out a sigh, runs a hand down his face. He’ll need to clean its feet. But first he completes the rest of the exam. The creature’s cranium is intact, no dents or bumps, although there’s a nasty, crusted bruise on the back of its skull. His fingers come away bloody, and the vampire flinches and whines.

“This part is going to hurt,” he says when he’s done. There’s a delayed, wounded sort of whimper, but the creature only clenches its fingers in the blanket and squeezes its eyes shut.

Callum drags the water closer and wishes he was anywhere else.

The creature screams as he cleans its feet. There’s no way to make it painless; the flesh on the bottom of its feet isn’t burned, it’s sliced. Some skin comes away in a ribbon as Callum squeezes water out over it, and he forces down his gag reflex. There’s grit and dirt particles stuck in the cuts, and even though he had brought two extra pots of clean water, he goes through all of it.

The water is pink by the time he’s done, and the vampire is panting and sobbing into the lumpy mattress.

“I know,” Callum mutters. “I know, pointy, I’m sorry.”

Somehow, throughout all the pain, the vampire has managed to remain mostly still. But this time, when he catches one of those slender ankles, it cries out and twists. All it takes is a warning squeeze, and the creature sobs desperately but falls still and silent again.

It’s the cream next; if the creature were human, Callum would have to follow the water up with alcohol, and then bandage it. But the possibility of an infection has had a long head start – months of it. If infection could kill the creature, it would have done so already. So Callum dabs a cream made for soothing and pain-relief onto the cuts, and the creature twitches and flinches through it.

He makes sure to get the vampire’s raw ankles too, and then everything from the ankle down is wrapped in clean bandages.  

“There we go,” Callum says as he sits back. The vampire is still shaking, hiding its face in its good arm. “Almost done,” he adds.

He cleans the open wounds on the vampire’s back, and the knot on the back of its skull, but he knows they aren’t the biggest threat.

The creature’s rib cage is in bad shape. Callum can see the way its ribs shift and move with each inhale, and there’s one doesn’t even seem to be attached to its sternum anymore. Some are crooked, and there’s one poking up against the skin – not piercing, but threatening to.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. If any internal organs had been punctured, the creature should be dead – but then, that assumes that vampires even have working organs. That assumes they can even die from things like internal bleeding or sepsis or a collapsed lung. “This would be a lot easier if I knew what I was dealing with,” he thinks out loud.  

There’s a faint wheeze every time the vampire inhales, and Callum knows that it hasn’t just started. Injuries like this would kill a human, would have killed a human, probably a long time ago. And because it would have killed a human, Callum isn’t sure how to treat them. Support from the outside, certainly – but that won’t do much good, if the ribs are splintered inwards.

It’s too much, all of a sudden. Callum pushes to his feet and steps away, inhales sharply, clenches his teeth.

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

“We’re – hnnk.” His voice catches, and Callum coughs. “I’m going to wrap your ribs, and we’ll call that it for the day.” Because right now, that’s all he can do. None of these injuries can heal until all the misaligned bones are back where they should be.

He might have to cut it open, Callum thinks – and the thought horrifies him. He’s got nothing to put it under with, doesn’t even know what substances or chemical compounds might affect a vampire, aside from iron and silver. There would be nothing to dull the pain as he peeled it open and dug around for its misplaced ribs.

On the thin little cot, the vampire is huddled as small as it can go and still be flat on its stomach. The hunter had put it there, and the creature hasn’t dared to move. It hadn’t, not even when the man had poured what felt like boiling acid over its feet. Not when it stung and burned and made tears prick in its eyes.

“Alright, over you go.” Callum does not wait for it to obey; instead he helps it move, and the creature gasps as pain lances through it. There’s still so much of it, coming from so many different places.  The hunter leans it against the cold wall, and mutters a quick, “Stay.”

The vampire stays, and Callum retrieves the largest two rolls of bandages and starts carefully winding them around its torso.

When it’s done, the creature looks almost human. The grit has been cleaned off its skin, the worst open wounds have been bandaged. Callum unbuckles the muzzle when it’s over, and he steadies the creature’s jaw as it comes free.  

The vampire wets its lip habitually, but instead of charred flesh, all it tastes is the lingering tint of steel. It had forgotten that the hunter had muzzled it; after wearing one for so long, its bare face feels stranger than the leather and metal.

“Now let’s get you into some clothes.” There’s a pile waiting by the door, soft, earthy colors and stiff cotton. The vampire’s eyes skip over it uncomprehendingly, unable to even process the words.

The creature recoils when the hunter reaches for it. There is fabric looped carefully over its wrist, and the vampire swallows another whimper. Maybe it’s just cloth – or maybe he’ll hang it from its bad arm, make it whimper and scream. Maybe he’ll break the other one, so it matches, and the vampire knows that it deserves the pain, but it’s so tired of hurting.

Instead the fabric is pulled up, still careful, and then it’s being guided down over the creature’s head, and – a shift?

“Okay, good.” Callum is patient with the vampire’s confusion, and with its fumbling when it finally figures out what it’s supposed to do. The fabric is bundled up under its chin, but it’s clothing, not a rope or a restraint, or some kind of new torture implement.

The vampire lets out a shuddering breath as Callum tugs the garment into place. It’s not a shirt so much as a loose cotton drape, and the hunter ties it below its bad shoulder, and then the vampire is clothed for the first time in its memory.

The fabric feels too tight, too heavy against its skin.

Pants are next; the creature still cannot stand, so the hunter has to awkwardly hold it while they tug on a set of Callum’s old breeches. The vampire knows they are Callum’s, because the fabric is soft with use and mended in places, and it smells like sun and the desert.

Every little motion makes its injuries sing with pain, and every second the vampire expects the hunter to make it worse – dig his fingers into its side, maybe, or its back.

“That’s better,” the hunter says instead, and the vampire can only blink at his shoes in bewilderment. It does not understand the continued commentary. But better is a stepping-stone from bad to good, so the vampire clings to it and hopes.

“I’m going out for a little while.” The hunter’s voice comes again as he steps away, picks up the dirty water, gatherings up the other supplies. “I have someone to visit. When I get back I’ll have blood for you.”

Just the mention of blood makes the vampire’s gums prick, and it whines softly.

“Yeah,” the hunter agrees absently. “You need more than I can give you. So… hold tight. Just for a little longer.”

Callum takes the muzzle with him, and the creature watches with wide, baffled eyes as he goes.

The cell door closes, and once again the vampire is left bewildered, marooned, adrift in a sea of its own confusion. It understands, on some level, that this man has been nothing but careful with it. And yet pain and torment are the only things the creature understands, so it doesn’t understand this.

The lack of pain feels like a missing limb, for how used to it the creature has gotten. And in the absence of it, the vampire isn’t sure what’s left. It doesn’t know what it has left to offer, what it still has for the man to take from it or use it for.

But this hunter seems to have dedicated himself to finding out.

--

[END]

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[jamaisjoons]

the summer bucketlist | m.list

When the weather sees the return of sunshine and warmth, the joy and exuberance of summer is revived, and everyone rushes to enjoy the season to the fullest. Bonfire nights with your friends, seeing brilliant firework displays or laying under the stars on a humid night and watching the world go by. Learning to surf, or dive or snorkel or simply collecting seashells along the shore. Late nights at the amusement parks, thrilling roller-coaster rides or spectacular views on the Ferris Wheel. Skinny dipping in a lake after dark, attending a film or music festival, or even just visiting the popup street market in your city. Everything you had been dreaming off since the start of autumn, you can do once again. And who better to do it with, than the boys who bring more joy and warmth to our lives than summer itself?

Welcome to ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ - a writing event/author collab hosted by @jamaisjoons​

The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition - is an event in which various different authors can sign up to write a story based on traditional Bucketlist Items. Find their stories below!

⟶ song of the sea; knj ⇥ @jamaisjoons​       ➳ fantasy au. little mermaid au.            ↳   ⎡Take a Trip to the Museum⎦

« Captivated by the sight of you, he can’t help but watch you swim around his home. And when you turn to leave, he doesn’t know what overcomes him - but as if spellbound - he finds himself following you back to land. »

⟶ molotov cocktail; jhs ⇥ @yeoldontknow​      ➳ bartender au. arranged marriage au.           ↳   ⎡Take a Cocktail Class⎦

«  You met him January, on a night when you were newly single and newly wanting to break free from your father’s unyielding control. You left him in January, full of regret but full of purpose. You meet him again in July, and now you want nothing more than to run to the ends of the earth with him, to burn down the shape your life has taken in the hope of making something new. »

⟶ luminous; pjm ⇥ @luffles424​     ➳ summer festival au. tentacle monster au.          ↳   ⎡Watch Fireworks⎦

« The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.  »

⟶ sticky situation; kth ⇥ @jiminsfault​     ➳ camping au. established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go Camping⎦

« You hate camping, but Taehyung is determined on changing your mind on that. »

⟶ pull me in; jhs ⇥ @guccybangtan​     ➳ established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go to a Water Park⎦

« In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water park.  »

⟶ a beautiful epiphany; jjk ⇥ @onherwings​     ➳ friends to lovers au.           ↳   ⎡Join an Art Contest⎦

« Who would have thought that falling in love with your muse could either lead to something beautiful or bring you to your own demise? »

⟶ love grows where you go; myg ⇥ @rookiegukie​    ➳ arranged marriage au. pining au.         ↳   ⎡Watch the Sunset on the Beach⎦

« Determined to make you and Yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. You know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you're positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don't find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. That is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.  »

⟶ petrichor; pjm ⇥ @taetaewonderland​    ➳ strangers to lovers au. domestic au.         ↳   ⎡Go on a Picnic⎦

« There are smells in the world that can trigger your brain to think of a memory almost in an instant. »

⟶ sun cockblock; myg ⇥ @cremeandsuga​    ➳ best friends to lovers au. summer au.         ↳   ⎡Join a Sandcastle Building Competition⎦

« Cancún was always a trip to remember - sun, beaches, hookups and day drinking, not to mention the annual sand castle competition you entered with your best friend every year. Yoongi smells like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven. Entering a sandcastle competition with one of the least competitive people in the world was pure agony — but it didn’t dawn to you that your best friend wasn’t competitive because he was confident he would win. Upon your loss, he sees you trying to soothe the burn of it (and the sun) with the beach bartender. He may smell like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven, but he’s sure you feel like heaven.  »

⟶ rejuvenation; myg & jhs ⇥ @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​    ➳ spa owners au.         ↳   ⎡Treat Yourself to a Spa Day⎦

« You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek. »

⟶ just a taste; kth ⇥ @xjoonchildx​   ➳ pwp au.        ↳   ⎡Go Wine Tasting⎦

« He’s hot. he’s considerate. He’s refusing to make a move. weeks of sexual frustration come to a head at a wine tasting and -- this is going to shock NO ONE -- smut ensues. »

⟶ lollipop; myg ⇥ @ironicarmy​   ➳ neighbours to lovers au.        ↳   ⎡Attempt to make Ice Cream⎦

« It’s a hot summer day, he’s desperate, and your ice lollies taste like heaven.  »

⟶ carnival lights; kth ⇥ @taephilia​   ➳ haunted carnival au. horror au.        ↳   ⎡Visit a Carnival⎦

« With half of your friend group graduated and leaving your hometown to move to the city for work, you and your friends decide to have one last adventure together (in the words of hobi even though it’s only may and you see each other like every day). But things are always different in the nighttime and you never know what’s lurking between the funnel cakes. »

⟶ midnight menagerie; knj ⇥ @jooneggs​  ➳ friends to lovers au.       ↳   ⎡Go to a Botanical Garden⎦

« Like water, cradling your fragile soul, Namjoon has held the lily of your heart all your life and you wish you could let him know just how much that means to you. Coincidentally, it just so happens you can: in a week's time when you're stuck in the holiday of your life at Namjoon's father's Botanical gardens. Will you finally get to repay him in a bed of roses or will he be the one to make the bouquet for you? »

⟶ ferris drink; jhs ⇥ @salvejoon​  ➳ pwp au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Ride a Ferris Wheel⎦

« Your boyfriend has a bucket list of places he wants to do the nasty and next up is a Ferris Wheel. »

⟶ hose wars; ksj & myg ⇥ @babybinnyboy​  ➳ neighbour au.       ↳   ⎡Have a Water Fight⎦

« Spending a summer in a little coastal town was supposed to be relaxing. It wasn't supposed to include a broken AC unit, record break heatwave, a hose, 2 ridiculously confident, attractive neighbors with an annoyingly low fence. »

⟶ cut shot; myg ⇥ @kimtaehyunq​  ➳ vacation au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Learn to Volleyball⎦

« He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. »

⟶ eternal summer; pjm ⇥ @aiimaginesbts​  ➳ childhood friends to lovers au. vacation au.       ↳   ⎡Go Sightseeing on Vacation⎦

« Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away. »

⟶ sway with me; knj & jhs ⇥ @minjoonalist​ ➳ established relationship au.      ↳   ⎡Take a Boat Ride⎦

« You love celebrating your anniversary, it was the only special part about summer that you looked forward to every year- But when your husband Is unable to make the availability due to his job- You thought why not make the best of it? »

⟶ ecstatic shock; jhs ⇥ @iluvstrawberry​ ➳ strangers to lovers au. abo au.      ↳   ⎡Host a BBQ⎦

« The garden party your parents throw every year is coming up. Seeing your conservative parents, is something you definitely don’t want to face on your own. But with all your friends being busy, you’ve decided to accept your fate and drown your sorrows at your favourite bar. Enter: Jung Hoseok, bartender, lifesaver and the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen. »

⟶ kaleidoscopic; knj ⇥ @boywivlove​ ➳ established relationship au.     ↳   ⎡Go Paintballing⎦

« You and Namjoon decide to blow off some steam and go to a paint balling range, one multicoloured blitzkrieg later; bruised, sweaty and victorious you celebrate your win. »

⟶ undercurrent; jjk ⇥ @jjungkooksthighs ➳ best friends to lovers au. post college au.     ↳   ⎡Go Diving⎦

« After a year and six months of sea fare and many more nights of sunken eyes that had been dotted with the black shadings of sleeplessness that you’d helped to nurse him because of, the fruits of your best friend’s efforts had earned him the completion of his mission to map the entire eastern seaboard. In all his work, though, Jungkook has not gotten the chance to dive at many of the areas scattered around the ocean in the vastness of the seas. You decide to take him to a previously unmarked, unmapped sector of the sea after following his own nautical charts. The catch is this: you’re afraid of the water. What happens when you find yourself following after him and into the arms of the sea after years of pent up sexual frustration that you blame entirely on him? »

a/n: this is incredibly late but onefgeoingoeitng i hope you enjoy reading all of these works! If you participated in the collab but your fic isn’t on here, it’s because it hasn’t appeared in the tags! please feel free to DM with the link to the fic!!

[miastideclock]

Stray Kids Reaction To Their Relationships Accidentally Going Public

@babybouille​ asked

Hi there ~ ! I saw that your request are open ? If possible can I please have a skz reaction for when their relationship with their s/o accidently goes public ? Thanks :)

-

Can do, love!

Word Count: 4,6k Warnings: sorry this took so long, not really a warning bUT YOU GET IT

Bang Chan

“What kind of spoiler? You will see it later. Recently what has everyone been up to these days? I’ve been working out a lot. Like, I’ve been eating salads. I want to build up my body-” Chan answered as he read the questions out loud.

Chan and Felix were sat on each their chair in Chan’s studio, talking to the fans via Chan’s weekly livestream. However, you had completely forgotten this. As you and Chan had been dating for almost six months, you probably should know this by now, but what can you do. 

You knocked gently before opening the door, instantly closing it back up when you saw what they were doing. Luckily, the camera was at such an angle that you couldn’t see the door. 

Chan jumped in his seat, as did Felix. “Hold on one moment you guys, I just need to mute our mic for a second.” The older Aussie spoke into the camera before clicking a few buttons. Chan then got out halfway out of frame, to the point where you could just see from the waist down on the left side of his body. From where he was standing, he could reach the door, so he opened it back up to find you standing there with a sheepish smile on your face. 

“I am so sorry! I completely forgot!” You instantly apologized to both your boyfriend and your friend. As you leaned gently to the side to see past Chan, Felix chuckled, waving it off saying it was an honest mistake. “Did anyone see me?”

Even though you and Chan had dated as long as you had, the public had yet to find out. Originally, Chan was under a strict dating-ban, but after a few weeks of convincing, the management agreed to let you date, but only if you kept it a secret, and if you worked at the company. That way no one would be suspicious of you entered and left the building at free will. 

“No, no one saw you babe- we’re good.” Chan chuckled and leaned forward to kiss you, jokingly making kissy noises as he came closer, mostly to gross out Felix, but also because the two of you genuinely found it funny to act like those super-gross couples. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m headed to the store, you boys want anything?” You asked, but as both the boys said no, their phones started vibrating like crazy. Felix grabbed his from the table they were sitting at, his face first confused, then a look of panic struck him. He instantly motioned for you and your boyfriend to be quiet as he grabbed the mouse and started clicking around the screen. He ended the live. 

“Mate. You didn’t mute yourself.” Felix breathed once Chan asked what all the commotion was about. Chan’s blood ran cold as he realized what that meant. You instantly pulled out your phone and went to the VLIVE app to see the ending of their stream, and sure enough. Kissy sounds, loving nicknames, Felix saying you were cute together. It was all there. 

“I guess we’re official then?” Chan sighed as he looked at you, scared of how you would react.

“Oh thank god!”

Lee Know

“You excited for the set tonight?” You asked softly as you sat on your boyfriends lap. He gently brushed his hands through your hair as he hummed a reply. 

“Yeah, it has been so long it feels like. But when you really do the math it really isn’t that bad.” Minho replied, the playing of your hair never stopping. You had enjoyed having your boyfriend to yourself for a while, but you knew how much he loved working and being on stage, so you didn’t mind giving him up to his members for a while.

You and Minho had been dating for about a year at this point, but you had yet to go public. The only people who knew were his members, and their management team. Or so you thought.

“Hyung, don’t kill me!” Seungmin ran over to the couch you were sat on in the greenroom, his make-up perfectly done and his outfit matching Minho’s. Minho sat up straighter, making you look up from where you had your face nuzzled into his chest. 

“Then don’t give me a reason?” Minho spoke, asking more than anything. Seungmin looked genuinely panicked, and you soon grew concerned for the boy. You had seen him get worried over dumb things before, but never like this. 

“I posted on Instagram. I didn’t see until I read the comments, but by then it was too late- I deleted it, but the fans are too fast.” He stumbled over his words and stuttered, almost as if he had just ran a marathon. 

“Seungmin, calm down. What was it about the picture?” Minho was now also concerned for the well-being of his member, genuinely worried he would have an anxiety attack. 

“You and Y/N are in it.” He breathed and showed you his phone. The screen showed his selfie, very cute picture. But if you zoomed in, you could see you and your boyfriend, cuddling, being mid-kiss. Unluckily for you, the quality was good enough to where you could definitely tell it was Minho. 

You inhaled a sharp breath of air, and instinctively looked to see Minho’s reactions- but it was impossible to read him. Was he happy? Stressed? Angry? Sad? Even with a gun to your head, you couldn’t give an answer. 

“I mean..” He started, not sounding very upset. “If it’s already out there, management can’t really force us to keep it a secret anymore, right?” He asked Seungmin what his opinion on the matter was, but he was at a loss for words. You had to side with Seungmin on this one, as it was a thing anyone would be angry at. 

When all Seungmin could do was stutter out inaudible sounds, Minho turned to one of the managers that had just entered the room. “Am I in trouble?” He asked calmly, and much to everyone's surprise, the manager shook his head. 

“No, but just meet with us in the conference room when we get back, so we can talk about where you can go and stuff.” He said, making you and Minho nod.

“That went well.”

Changbin

You smiled slightly as you smelled the freshly popped popcorn, the salty and buttery smell filling your nose. While humming gently to yourself as you poured the snacks out of the bag and into a bowl, bopping your head to the beat you heard in your head. “Blurry lines, yeah-yeah. So many, so many-” But you cut yourself off as you heard your show begin in the living room. You softly squealed and ran with the popcorn and your drink.

Your boyfriend Changbin and his group was going on a talk show, and you were so excited to see it. You always loved their live interviews as they always felt more charismatic when nothing was edited out.

“Tonight on Late Later Latest with Bentley™, Stray Kids! Welcome!” The host greeted the boys. They did their intro and got started. The host asked her usual questions, how promotion was going, how it felt being such an up-and-coming group etc etc. After the general questions, she asked more individual question, asking Minho about his dancing (Nat Geo), Felix and Chan about their life in Australia and so on. When she finally went to Changbin, you felt your heart beat proudly. 

You had originally asked management if you could come to the audience of the talk-show and watch, but they sadly denied your request as people might get suspicious. You and Changbin had been dating since forever, but the public didn’t know yet. Management had agreed to let you keep dating, but only if they could expose your relationship at any given moment for promotion purposes. At first you were disgusted with their demands, but you soon understood where they came from, and agreed. 

“So Changbin, what would you say motivates your writing the most?” The host asked, giving him a smile as she did so. 

Changbin nodded and answered, not giving his answer enough thought. “Well, mostly my girlf-” but he cut himself off. “uuh- my members? Maybe my fans?” He stumbled over his words, trying to hide his original answer, but it was too late.

“Were you gonna say girlfriend?” The host asked him in kind of a humoring tone. Changbin then sighed and nodded, this making you choke on your popcorn, sending a few pieces flying as you coughed. You did not expect him to expose your relationship for the whole world to see, this fine Thursday afternoon. 

“Yeah. I guess I have to come clean now, don’t I? Y/N, please don’t kill me.” He sheepishly smiled into the camera and gave you a slight wave, causing you to smile back at him and wave gently, not realizing he couldn’t see you. You then let your and fall into your lap as you giggled at your now public boyfriend.

Hyunjin

While almost skipping, you made your way down the hallway. Taking turn after turn and up and down hallways and staircases, you finally found what you had been looking for. The loud music gave it away instantly as you entered the room.

in the middle of the floor, looking at himself dancing in the mirror, stood your boyfriend Hyunjin. “Hi baby!” He grinned when he saw you stood there by the door. He stopped dancing and hurried over to you and picked you up to spin you around. “I missed you!”

You had been out of town for about three weeks, so it was with good reason he said what he did. 

“Am I interrupting anything?” You quickly asked, praying that he would say no. He shook his head while copying your grin, finally placing you back on the ground. You took that opportunity to get on your tippy-toes and give him a kiss.

You and Hyunjin had been dating for just under nine months at this point, and your relationship was still as blooming as if was only a few weeks ago you went on your first date. 

At first, you had been forbidden to date, as his idol-contract came with pretty serious and strict rules, but after sneaking around for about half a year, the company finally gave up and let you do whatever you wanted. Hyunjin’s managers were all surprised when you let them know that neither of you wanted to take the relationship public, at least not to begin with. So all the secrecy was completely your own ideas. Hyunjin’s members also agreed to keep you a secret for now, respecting you and Hyunjin’s decisions.

“Would they mind if I stole you for a day date? I was thinking maybe taking you on a picnic right now, and then after we could go to the fair?” You suggested, already having the picnic basket ready in your car parked outside.

“I already told them I would be occupied the day you came home. I just gotta send this to our editor, and he can work his magic or something!” Hyunjin let you know, letting go of your waist to run over to the camera propped up on a tripod. He had been filming a dance practise, something he did every once in a while. 

He clicked the camera and then sat down on the floor next to the laptop the camera was wired to, clicking a few more buttons. After that he cleared out the room, and you were on your way. 

The date was nice, you and Hyunjin catching up, even though you had spoken on the phone every single night while you were away. However, mid-date, Hyunjin got a phone call from his leader. As it was just Chan, he put it on speaker so you could listen in too.

“Hyung! What’s up?” He asked casually, after he had placed the phone back down on the blanket. 

“Hyunjin- did you mean to post that? Cause if yes- hella cute. If not? I’m so sorry, mate.” Bang Chan’s voice was slightly static as he was talking through a phone after all, but that wasn’t what made his statement confusing. 

“What are you talking about?” Both you and Hyunjin said at the same time.

“Oh, Y/N, fitting that you’re here too. But you posted the uncut version of your dance practice to our VLIVE instead of sending it to the editor. Everything is there.. Everything.” He spoke slowly, trying to make sure you and your boyfriend truly understood the consequences.

You looked over at Hyunjin for a second, him being just as confused as you were- all before he looked like he had touched a hot plate, his face lighting up in a grimace. 

“You! You’re in the video! We kiss! And say dating! sHIT-” He started panicking. 

“Baby- slow down. I don’t care if you don’t. Maybe it was time for us to go public anyways- we couldn’t have kept it a secret the rest of our lives, right? I love you, you love me- we can do this.” You spoke in a tone to try to calm him down.

“Yeah, I do love you. We’ll figure it out.” He replied after letting out a sigh of relief. You then leaned in to kiss him but was cut off by someone you had forgotten long ago.

“Awwww, you guys! That was so cu-” BEEP. Hyunjin quickly hung up on Chan even though he was mid-sentence, going back to kissing you.

Han

“Please don’t ever get a mustache.” You chuckled as you gently stroked the fake beard glued to your boyfriends upper lip. He chuckled as he returned the favor, gently pulling on your fake grandma-glasses.

“I would say the same about your outfit, but I don’t know. This whole grandma look is growing on me.” He joked, you swatting away his hand as he did so. 

“You’re weird.” You laughed at him.

You were currently sat in a boot at a restaurant, trying to enjoy a good meal with your boyfriend. As you still weren’t known to the public yet, despite having dated for almost a year- you had to play dress up. 

You were sat in a dated dress you could find in any grandmother's closet, matched with a shawl draped over your head and granny glasses, covering as much of your face as possible. Your other half was in a suit, distorting his true body-type, a fake mustache and a hat. 

“I don’t know, I preferred the costume where you dressed as a woman.” You snickered, making Jisung roll his eyes and chuckle with you. 

This was in no way shape or form the first time you had dressed up to go out, but it had been some time since the last time you did it. His company didn’t necessarily have anything against your dating, as long as you kept it lowkey. You could go public if you so wished, but if you did- you couldn’t go on dates on massively crowded spots. 

“I liked the one where you were not only a man, but a biker!” Jisung cackled at that one. But before he could say anything else, you both noticed a flash of light in the distance. Your first thought was lightning, but as you were inside a shopping centre, you doubted it.

As you both turned to the source of the light, you saw not only one, but two paparazzis standing by the entrance of the restaurant, taking your pictures.

You then quickly looked up at each other, and then making a run for the door, trying to hide your faces as much as you could. 

Once you made it outside, Jisung grabbed your hand as you still ran, trying to drag you after him. You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, as it would have to look ridiculous to anyone else. An old couple running at full speed down the shopping mall, as if they were being chased by the police? Iconic. 

Your laugh soon infected Jisung causing him to laugh too, one hand on his hat, the other in yours.

Felix

“Okay, so- No! I’m not impostor- I’m down by electrical!” Felix defended himself as he spoke into the mic, discussing with the other players on Discord.

Felix was twitch streaming as he and some of his personal friends played Among Us. They also opted to use Discord rather than the chat that came with the game, when they were discussing. 

“Nah, Felix sus! You know you can vent from electrical to medbay, and then you’re in cafeteria in two seconds, giving you plenty of time to kill cyan, and then leave!” One of his friends argued, prompting you to say something. 

“No, I saw Felix do a garbage-task earlier, he safe.” You backed him. You hadn’t actually seen him to a task, but he seemed like he needed some help. 

You loved playing with Felix and his friends, but you preferred it when they weren’t Twitch streaming. You were always scared to mess up, or let words slip. Words like babe, honey, or boyfriend. As you and your boyfriend Felix had decided to let the world think you were only friends, it made things a bit more difficult, gaming wise. 

You had been dating for just over half a year at this point. His idol-company had asked you to date in secret for a while, just to see if it would work out before you announced it to the world- something you completely understood, as it was quite a mess to clean if you had a nasty break.

However, the past few weeks, you and Felix found yourself catching yourself almost revealing it by accident. At this point, you found it tiresome to keep the secret, wanting to spread it to the world so you could adore your boyfriend in public. 

“Oh damn. Unless Felix and Y/N are impostor together!” Felix’s friend tried once again, but just as you had done previously you defended both you and your boyfriend.

“Eject confirmations are on. Danny was clearly the other impostor you dimwit.” You chuckled into your mic, making him groan.

“No, sorry- you’re right. Sorry Felix.” He apologized, prompting Felix to thank you for backing him, but along those lines, a certain word accidentally slipped his lips.

“Thanks, babe.” 

As soon as the words had left his lips, the chat grew quiet, no one knowing if they were allowed to speak, or if Felix wanted to try and save his mistake. One of your monitors showed Felix’s stream which also happened to show his stream-chat, it going completely nuts.

xxemogirlxx: DID HE SAY BABE?

changbinishawt: IS Y/N HIS GIRLFRIEND?

falixlaa: omg i knew they were dating

And so on, and so forth. You found yourself in complete shock as you leaned back in your chair, your mouth wide open. 

“Oh, screw it. Yes, Y/N is my girlfriend, and we’ve been together for a while. I’m also impostor while we’re at it.” He said, the relief in his voice prominent. As he spoke the last words, he ran over to his friend in MedBay and killed him, finishing the game.

The discord went crazy, all eight of Felix and you’s friends rioting.

“How does it feel being completely out to the world, Y/N?” You were asked by Danny.

“Feels great.”

Seungmin

“I’m really sorry, I’m already late for the meeting!” Your boyfriend, Seungmin apologized as he repeatedly kissed your cheeks, nose and forehead, finally landing on your lips. 

“Go on! Have fun, and say hi to the boys from me would you?” You giggled and tried to squirm your way out of his hug. He finally released you, but not fully as he slid his hands down your arms and intertwined your fingers, slowly stepping away as he did so. 

“Of course! Love you.” He smiled as he finally let go of your hand, but kept his walk backwards. 

You were inside the company building at this point, so you didn’t need to worry if anyone saw you. You smiled at him and waved slightly until he turned a corner and was out of sight. 

You and Seungmin had been dating for exactly six months, it being the reason for your date- to celebrate your anniversary. The company did have some words to say about your relationship in the beginning, but after a while they backed off and let you have your fun. 

Once you were sure he was gone, you made your way out of the building and down to the bus-stop waiting for the next scheduled bus. Two girls were sat at the bus-stop already, waiting for the same bus as you probably. They seemed to have a weird look at you, but you ignored it 

Maybe they had seen you and Seungmin enter the building! or maybe you just had gum on your pants? You decided to not give it too much thought. It was only a two minute wait, so before you knew it, you had your headphones plugged in and your phone in your hand. You were about to press the Spotify app, but soon noticed you had received a notification from VLIVE a few minutes ago.

You grew confused as the title didn’t mention any specific members hosting the live, but you clicked it nonetheless. 

Your headphones were soon filled with the cheers and rioting of your boyfriends band members, having the time of their lives as some sat on the couch, and some on the floor. You did however fail to spot Seungmin in the crowd, making you a tad bit confused, but reckoned there was a reason for it. A reason you and about 1.2 million others soon found out.

Just as the boys calmed down and Minho opened his mouth to talk, the door at the very left of the screen opened and revealed a distressed Seungmin. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was on my anniversary date with Y/N-” He started, not realizing the live had already started. The boys tried to save him as they started yelling once they saw where the sentence was going, but it was too late.

You felt your heart drop as you moved faster than lightning to tap the screen so you could see the comments. They were going crazy, everyone trying to figure out who you were, and if they had seen you before. 

“Damn it. Well, sorry STAY- I do in fact have a girlfriend, and we would much appreciate it if you didn’t go trying to look for her, or harass her in any comment section. Thank you.” Seungmin asked directly to the camera, the comments instantly flooding with nothing but love and support for their faves and their significant others. 

After the live was over, you found yourself smiling to yourself, happy that no one came with any mean comments. 

As you were on your way to collect your bag and push the stop button on the bus, you accidentally made eye-contact with the two girls who were sharing headphones. They looked you up and down once more before their eyes lit up, almost if they realized. 

Fear instantly washed over you, but it was soon gone as they raised their hands and waved and sent you little finger hearts, showing that they supported you. You softly waved back and stepped off the bus.

I.N

You were walking around a store downtown, minding your own business, having taken yourself out on a date. Your boyfriend, Jeongin was unable to join you as he had an early morning practice. You didn’t mind though, it had been a while since you got some time to yourself.

You and Jeongin had officially been dating for ten months circa, meaning you were already well into the relationship. His managers never really had anything against it as you seemed to follow all the company rules anyways. 

Looking at the items in the thrift-shop you were in, a ring caught your eye, instantly making you think of Jeongin. You decided to give him a call to see if the ring was something he liked, and if you should bring it home for him. 

The ringing of the FaceTime was short before he picked up, lighting up the whole screen with his massive smile. “Hi babe!” He beamed. You quickly greeted him and asked if he was busy. When he revealed he had a few minutes to spare, you flipped the camera so he could see what you were looking at.

“I saw this ring and thought it would suit you so well! It’s not too bold, and just large enough to make a statement. Would you wear it if I bought it for you?” You asked him as you showed him every angle of the ring, even how it looked on you. 

“Oh I love it! It would go well with so many outfits too. You really know your stuff.” He complimented and chuckled. You spoke for a few more minutes before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me?” You whipped around as they spoke to you, the voice belonging to a girl around maybe fourteen years old. You gently placed the screen of your phone against your stomach, not necessarily to hide your boyfriends face, but to be respectful towards the person you spoke to.

“Can I help you?” You asked as politely as you could. The girl soon waved over her friends who were scattered around the store, making them all step over to you.

“How do you know our oppa?” The first girl asked, almost sounding angry as she spoke. You shot her a confused glance, genuinely not knowing what she was talking about.

“I’m sorry- do I know you?” You asked, in case it was the little sister of one of your friends.

“No, you don’t. But I saw your phone and you are talking to our I.N-oppa!” She was almost throwing a tantrum at this point, and you had no idea what to say or do. You tried stuttering out a reply, but you found your mouth gaping and closing, like the one of a fish. 

Muffles sounds suddenly came from your stomach, making both you and the girl look to your phone. You gently pulled it back out so you could see the screen. “Y/N, babe! Let me talk to them okay?” He suggested, having heard the entire conversation. You turned your phone around, but you didn’t let the girl hold it on her own, scared that she would run off with it. 

“Hi! Nice to meet you! I’m Jeongin, and this lovely girl you are talking to is a good friend of mine, so I would really love it if you stopped being upset with her, and rather left her alone, okay?” Jeongin spoke to the girls, trying his best to come across as kind and sweet, even though he hated how they had treated you. 

“Of course! But.. Is she your girlfriend?” The main girl asked, causing you to shake your head no, at the same time Jeongin sighed and confirmed you were. You felt your breath hitch and a smile creep up on your face.

“She is, but since we’re best friends now, you guys won’t tell anyone right?” He continued in the same baby-ing voice. Almost all of the girls agreed. All but one.

“Too late? I am so sorry!” She started sheepish, and ended in a panic. Apparently she had been filming the conversation and instead of stopping the filming when Jeongin asked them to keep it a secret, she had stumbled and uploaded it to twitter istead. Posting it to her hundreds and thousands of followers already. 

Both you and Jeongin stood there silently for a second before you flipped the phone around and agreed that you should stop by the company building to do some damage control.

“I’ll see you there. Love you, bye.” You said and hung up. You gave the girls a half-assed smile and picked up the ring to go pay.

That took so long I am genuinely so so so so so sorry x

I hope you liked it tho!

-Bentley

[surlifen]

i dont waste energy hating closed species And You Can Too!

alright you asked for it

Claim 1: “Closed species limit creativity in the art community by locking off certain concepts.”

No, they don’t. If you believe that, then you also must believe that copyrighting in general-- or just generally the fact that making a design exactly like someone else’s is viewed as kind of wack-- are stifling creativity. Why? It’s easy to accidentally make a concept that is similar to someone else’s, because there are literally just not that many Things That Exist. There will ALWAYS be repeats. Generally, if a design coincidentally looks like another, there will be a mixture of backlash from people who believe it was an intentional ripoff, and total acceptance from people who understand that it was an accident. Ultimately, the correct way to live is to understand that 1) these coincidences can happen and should not be punished, but 2) intentionally ripping off someone else’s work is wrong. It isn’t black and white, you must process 2 or more concepts at once.

Species owners understand this. I have never seen a species owner come after someone for accidentally making something similar or inspired. This is a myth. Species owners are busy as fuck, generally Normal People, and simply do not have the time or energy or desire to moderate things outside their community. Please talk to literally any of them for more than two minutes and you will discover this. Every species owner I have met is friendly and kind and I’ll go into detail on exactly how bullshit this stereotype of them chasing people down for similarities is later.

So, given that some randos will get upset and harass people over harmless inspiration/coincidence but most will not in ALL cases of accidental over-similarity: this is NOT a species-specific problem and happens just as often--if not MORE often, because of how much people fucking despise closed species-- with non-closed-species characters.

Secondly, species owners do not create a closed species with the goal of closing off a concept from use. They do it to create a community they can manage and share a concept they have created. 

Take the world of Nephfei, created by the artist Queijac. The closed species of Nephfei are called Spinxyn, and they are very much sphinxes. They are not a brand-new concept Jac is claiming to have come up with, they are intentional and very direct references to sphinxes. What sets them apart is their species LORE, WORLD, and COMMUNITY.

[image ID: a screenshot of the Spinxyn species guide on deviantart, created by queijac. Text reads “IMPORTANT NOTE: Spinxyn are a species OF sphinx. Yes, they are sphinx, and yes of course anyone can make sphinx characters and designs using similar appearances! I claim no ownership over design aspects! Spinxyn as a CS community, however, which offers social art related activities, world building, themed events, etc., to use the characters in, simply relates to my own PERSONAL WORK and how i want to enrich peoples experiences with it! Please understand this, thank you!!!”]

This species is not closed so that Jac can copyright the idea of a sphinx. It is closed so that Jac has some control over the world and lore they have created. Were anyone able to create a Spinxyn without an approval process, not only would the community become too large to manage too quickly, but all sorts of Spinxyn with aspects that don’t fit the lore would pop up. 

[Image ID: screenshot of a message from Queijac in the nephfei official public Discord server. Text reads: “theres just a total disconnect that 99% of ppl making closed species are making. a Group...... its about.... the community....... and building the community around One concept that someone makes and puts rules in place for so that they can actually. U kno. MANAGE THINGS... and make a cohesive group experience....... the reason CS have so much popularity is because they come with a community, not because theyre 100% unique never before seen or heard of concepts”]

Jac explicitly acknowledges that sphinxes do not belong to them and even says that borrowing some spinxyn-specific appearance details is okay!!! The ONLY thing off-limits here is a WORLD, COMMUNITY, and LORE.

Except it isn’t. Because Nephfei also hosts not one, not two, but THREE open species of intelligent beings, plus NINE official species of non-intelligent animals, so that anyone can participate.

Claim 2: Species owners harass and police people who make similar concepts.

I touched on this already re:species owners are busy as fuck & Jac openly encouraging people to make sphinx characters and even borrow spinxyn-specific traits, but this note from ground-lion/seel, the creator of Chimereons, really does it for me.

[Image ID: a DeviantArt note from ground-lion to me. Text reads “hello, thank you for showing me this! we don't actively do anything to police offbrands, since it causes more trouble than i think it's worth. i like to avoid drama wherever possible, and it seems like most people who participate in offbrands are just looking to press people's buttons so we can't/won't do anything to these people, i think it is best to just try and ignore it and move on.”]

Here you have the owner of one of the arguably most shit on and hated species saying outright “we don’t bother doing anything about intentional ripoffs”. For context, this WAS 100% intentional, I had noted ground-lion about a user I saw posting adoptables that were LABELED “offbrand chimereons” (so if anyone was hArAsSiNg PeOpLe oVeR SiMiLaR cOnCePtS here, it was me, calling attention to intentional and stated copying). 

Sidenote: I think it’s shitty to intentionally steal a concept. Ground-lion has also said there is no issue with making anthropomorphic chameleon characters, just that chimereons were inspired by a set of traits, a word, lore, a desire to create a community, and their own personal stylization of anthro chameleons. It’s fine to take inspiration from how someone else stylizes an animal, but the degree to which people do it-- just outright copying every aspect of Seel’s work-- rubs me the wrong way. Not enough to say anything because that is only my personal opinion and because I do not have time for that shit.

The Dainty mod team + owner (Pajuxi-Adopts) also have a section stating that to make a design no longer a Dainty, all that’s needed are the following changes: 

[image ID: screenshot of Dainty species ToS. Text reads “ Visual edits must be made for discontinuation, here is our standard discontinuation options: - remove the stockings completely and give them fur like an actual satyr - keep the stockings and give them human legs - make them an anthro - keep the stockings but they MUST start at least a quarter to halfway up the bottom portion of the deer leg with a clear divide between the stocking and leg with fur poking out underneath - you are free to suggest your own edits as well! “]

This may be speaking specifically about discontinuing a former Dainty due to the context we found it in, but this means that a design is not considered a dainty if, for example, its stockings show fur underneath and are not part of the body. That’s it. That’s all they ask. Pajuxi is not saying “this is my closed species of SATYRS WITH SOCKS and if you DARE make a satyr with socks i will COME FOR YOU!!!”, they clearly state that satyrs with socks are an acceptable Not A Dainty. I personally think the lore behind the stockings being physically part of the body and all the specific rules they entail is interesting and original and I do not think it’s such a wild ask to say “hey, please respect this and if you see it, don’t rip it off on purpose. You can take inspiration in all these valid ways but I want to have some control over the concept I came up with”.

Claim 3: Species owners are rich elitists making small artists suffer.

Species owners are small, independent artists. Artists being hated the instant they get even moderate success (that’s still usually BARELY A LIVING WAGE) is its own huge discussion and internalized issues + capitalist brainwashing you all have to deal with on your own damn time, but I want to emphasize that someone making a living or even comfortable wage from their art is Good, Actually, and is something we should all be happy to see and want to see more of. 

Furthermore, no one is being taken advantage of. CS characters are a luxury item. You do not NEED one. If you absolutely will die without a sock deer, make one where the sock isn’t part of their body. If you will die without a chimereon, make an anthro chameleon and use your own ideas. If you will die without a sphinx character, I’m overjoyed to inform you that fucking nobody ever asked you not to make one. CS involvement is voluntary. If you don’t like them, don’t participate in them, but keep in mind that someone saying “hey, please don’t blatantly copy this design concept I spent time creating” is The Same Thing as someone asking you not to copy their individual character designs. You could live without stealing character designs. You can live without making something exactly like an existing CS. 

Claim 4: CS put concepts behind a paywall and make them inaccessible.

Again, these are a luxury item. Most closed species MYO slots cost $10-$45. That is not a ridiculous amount to aspire to. Closed species owners WANT people to participate in their species, so there are a ton of ways.

- Chimereons hold First-Time Owner flatsale slot raffles every single month to ensure people who are new to the community have a greater chance of nabbing a slot than existing participants - Dainties have an art prompt every month, which rewards every participant regardless of skill level one prompt point (the art can be visual or written). Six prompt points can be used to buy an MYO slot for free. If you desperately need a dainty and are flat broke, you can get a free one by writing 150 words a month for six months or doing one drawing each month. Skill level doesn’t matter, ALL participants get a point if they follow the rules. - I joined a raffle for a free pre-made Spinxyn. I did not win the raffle. Jac randomly decided to give out 7 MYO slots too, one of which I won. I entered a raffle that DID NOT HAVE MYO SLOTS AS A PRIZE and got one for free anyway. CS owners want people to participate, I promise. - Dainties just had a 24-hour turn-in event (that they warned about a month in advance so folks could prepare designs), meaning every single person who submits a design in that 24hr time frame gets a slot. Normally slot sales are limited in number and sell out in seconds. - Jac sporadically draws quicker, messier Spinxyn designs which always cost $5 and raffle-flatsales them on Discord. $5 is not a gatekeepy price. - Tomoyokis recently had a free-for-all event where everyone could claim either a free common slot or a $10 uncommon slot. These are just specific examples I remember of easier or free ways to get CS. Non-specifically:

- art = reward systems are common, so again, just writing or drawing enough can equal a free MYO slot or entry into a raffle for a pre-made design - many many species that are relatively new have FREE turn-in events or giveaways to build a community - free FTO slot raffles - paid but discounted FTO slot raffles - random free design giveaways - trading art for a CS character or MYO slot (I’ve gotten a dainty and two dainty MYO slots this way, and I realize not everyone’s art gets accepted, which is why this is a whole list of ways that don’t require artistic skill whatsoever)

So getting your hands on one isn’t the worst thing in the world. You might need a little luck (as in, you have a completely fair chance that is equal to everyone else’s) or a little dedication (6 months of wanting one, or having to have a design ready within a limited time for a free turn-in event).

Also, there’s a reason CS prices cannot change much: this causes issues with the value of all existing CS characters. Dainties will ALWAYS be $35. The MYO slot price will NEVER increase. If it did, all previous dainties would be worth less, or would have to have their worth increased, which is logistics hell. Inflation doesn’t affect CS the same way it does everything else.

Claim 5: ok but legally nothing is stopping me from making one lmaoo

That is true. It’s also true that there’s not really any effective laws in place to protect artists when they say “Hey, please don’t quote retweet my art on Twitter” or “Hey, please don’t repost my art even with credit”. Sometimes, we just respect artists and do what they ask because we are Nice Fucking People, but apparently, species owners are a whole different thing, evil, and do not deserve the same basic respect.

IN CONCLUSION

Talk to a CS owner. They’re reasonable and kind people. There’s an exception to every rule, of course, but what I’ve found overwhelmingly is that they’re literally just people like you and I who were excited to make something cool and share it with people. The emphasis is HUGELY on community. I used to dislike the idea of CS too, but since participating in them and talking a ton with the owners (who are super down-to-earth and active in their servers-- Jac helped me with a confusing horse video game and gave me a Free Horse in there), I’ve realized that the caricature of CS owners as greedy and bitchy, laying claim to basic concepts like A Cat With Wings, is just bullshit. The stereotype that CS community members are an angry mob who will roast you over a fire if you draw a chameleon on two legs is bullshit. The idea that CS are impossible to get, are for the bourgeoisie, and cost thousands of dollars is bullshit (I bet you’re thinking about scarfoxes right now. Hot take: I think it’s great that an artist is selling their intellectual property for that much. I think we all should be able to. I think if someone chooses to spend that much on a design they think would make them happy, that is literally not a fucking problem, and since it was their choice and their money no one is being taken advantage of unfairly. Let people buy the shit they want to buy, I promise you will fucking survive).

I like CS, I think they are neat, I wish people would give the owners a break. They are just independent artists like me. They get lied about and stereotyped over this stupid drama bullshit and they’re so tired and saddened when the subject comes up. They literally do not police anyone-- they don’t have the time or the desire, and it wouldn’t work anyway.

I won’t post CS content here anymore. But I like participating voluntarily in these communities. I don’t understand why that’s something YOU get to have a problem with.

Stay out of my inbox. Thanks.

[thewritinggrindstone]

Who Is Your Main Character, Anyway?

Over the last six months, I have noticed a recurring problem in every fiction manuscript I’ve edited and a few other nonfiction projects to boot. It’s a problem that’s both made editing significantly more difficult than the task otherwise might be and it’s killed all of these potentially entertaining novels dead, so permit me to ask you a question:

Who is your main character?

No, really. I’m serious. Do you know who your MC is? Can you point at a single character and definitively say, “Yes, this is my MC”?

If not, you—and your story—might be in trouble.

For reference’s sake, some of the novels I’ve edited since June 2019 include:

A collection of sci-fi short stories tied together with alternating chapters of an extremely and alarmingly abstract, philosophical variety

A contemporary novel revolving around health problems, corrupt management, and struggling teachers in a NYC school

A contemporary novel set in a heavenly courtroom that functioned as a soapbox for the author’s opinions on the current state of the US government

An urban fantasy set in modern-day NYC with trolls, fairies, dragons, and other fantastical beasts

I also edited a memoir about life in Crete during WWII that was told via a progressing series of anecdotes.

All five of these projects, which sound so different from the outside, share the same issue: The author didn’t understand the need for a main character.

But why is a main character important? In fact, isn’t it possible to have more than one MC? I hear the arguments: the MCU doesn’t have a single MC, and look at how utterly lucrative that series has been.

Fair point, and I’ll touch on multi-POV later, but for now, bear with me and treat the idea of a main character as one of the fundamental storytelling rules. And like all rules related to writing, you need to know how it works before you can effectively break it.

So what is a main character?

The typical main character in a novel is, at their very core, the character who both:

Has the highest stakes in the story’s climax

Goes through the most dramatic change themselves (positive/negative arc), or has the most dramatic change on the world around them (flat arc)

If either element is missing from the character, chances are they aren’t actually the MC.

Why is this important?

It’s important because if you don’t consciously determine who your MC is, you’re far more likely to be swayed by other characters who pop up and their respective stories. Suddenly one character has severe anxiety due to a crummy upbringing and all but vanishes after they begin recovering after a failed suicide attempt. Another is stealing medication from the locked nurse’s office to deal with a problem that isn’t quite important enough to actually receive mention in the novel. Yet another character becomes a mouthpiece for a topic the author is passionate about but doesn’t actually tie into the novel’s plot or theme. Suddenly there are characters crawling out of the woodwork, all interesting and unique and playing important enough roles that the author becomes distracted with the shiny and the tantalizing and doesn’t quite realize that they’ve completely failed to mention a character isn’t a human at all and indeed is a troll until page seventy-three. Oh, and there’s no climax to the novel either. Huh. How did that happen?

One consequence of an author failing to identify their main character is that failing to do so often leads to an unfocused story. POVs hop from character A to character B to character C to character D, and somehow we find ourselves at character M before finally circling back around to character A, whose story... I no longer quite remember—or care about, because character G was fascinating and I want to get back to them.

Another consequence is that POV oftentimes is distributed unevenly throughout the story. A concurrent issue I’ve noticed cropping up is the use of omniscient POV in these troubled manuscripts. While that’s a topic for another post, I will say that a lack of main character + omniscient POV = stories that are notoriously difficult to edit effectively because it’s one thick layer of confusion on top of another thick layer of confusion. Trying to determine what the authors want out of those stories requires a frankly outrageous amount of effort compared to a story with a single main character and a limited POV because the editor has to spend so much time and energy guessing what the author truly wants.

On top of that, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that most authors don’t want to tell an unfocused story. Sure, we might want to obscure some facts, might want to leave the occasional little mystery for the reader to enjoy puzzling out, but we want our writing to be understood. We want it to resonate. And it’s difficult for a story to resonate when half its notes are atonal and the other half are outright missing.

Step 1 is to identify who your main character is. Step 2 is to determine what characters are masquerading—temporarily or completely—as the main character. In the contemporary novel set in the school I mentioned above, there were at least eight initial contenders for the role of main character, all with their own unique stories and all with significant POV time, but only one character had any bearing on the climax, and it was a character who didn’t appear until almost a third of the way into the novel but got less POV time than several other characters. This doesn’t work.

This doesn’t work because the reader assumes, particularly in genre novels (excepting romance), that:

the first character we meet, and

the character whose POV opens the novel

is going to be the main character. This isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, and there are absolutely exceptions—such as The Great Gatsby, in which the MC and the narrator are two totally separate characters—but this post is about identifying MCs in particular. Narrator vs MC is a topic for another day.

(In conventional romance novels, the POV is split fifty-fifty between the two love interests. This post doesn’t really apply to conventional romance, but it’s still not a bad idea to check yourself once in a while to make sure you don’t have any characters who are trying to worm their way into being the MC when they shouldn’t be.)

Some of the problems I’ve encountered in the five projects I mentioned above include:

A POV that skitters from character to character, even to characters who have no arc or bearing on the overall plot whatsoever

An unfocused climax or a total lack of climax

Numerous subplots that never resolve and/or never have any bearing on the climax

Significantly lowered chances that the reader will bond with or care about any of the characters

Unsatisfying character arcs and/or plots

Plots that wander to places they never should have gone

Subplots of subplots that have nothing to do with the main character and/or climax at all

Painfully boring scenes that serve no purpose

The author bending the characters and plot to A Message rather than allowing either to exist naturally

The author not understanding what is truly important or interesting in their story

Stories that try to cram way too much information into a single book

The exclusion of details that are vital to understanding the overall story

Before throwing the unfinished book aside, the reader asking the two deadliest possible questions: So what? and Who cares?

That’s a rather terrible and terrifying list, isn’t it? All because each author never chose a single main character for their novel.

So I ask again: Who is your main character? Are they present from as close to the beginning of the story to as close to the end of the story as possible? Are they the most changed (or do they cause the most change around them) of all the characters in the story? Are there other characters around them who have plots or subplots that don’t tie into either the climax or the main character in any way? Is there another character who has more of an effect on the climax than your current labeled MC? More POV time or overall focus?

If you don’t have a main character to anchor your story around, the chances of it wandering, drifting away on every little eddying breeze that comes along, stumbling into dead ends and boring climaxes and unsatisfying character arcs grow with each added word. So challenge yourself to nail down a single main character. Wrap the entire plot around them, tight enough to choke them if you must. Get your facts straight; tie every detail back to them. You might find extraneous loose threads you can pluck out, be they characters or plot elements—but you might also find areas that are weak and need building up. You might even find both coexisting in the same story, because writing is sometimes just like that.

And once you know how to identify and use your main character, you can begin adding other elements to your story, elements that can create a bit of breathing room wherever necessary, all without the story losing its focus or meandering away from you into an area that leaves your reader—or editor—baffled at best, furious at worst.

 That said, of course it’s possible to have more than one MC, but with each MC you add to a single novel, the more work you’re creating for yourself, because each MC needs to have equal stakes in the climax and, preferably, an equal amount of attention throughout the story. Conventional romance, with its lack of a single MC, works because the climax hinges on the two characters who have received equal attention (via POV time and word count) up to that point. They both stand to win—and lose—the same thing, namely their mutual happy ending. Adding in a third main character is possible but tricky. Four? If you can do it, you’re a better plotter than me, friend, and I salute you.

A note: yes, subplots are a great way of adding extra characters or situations to a story that don’t necessarily run through the main plot. Ideally, though, most subplots should be resolved as close to the climax as possible to give the entire climax that added oomph. Again, there are exceptions, and it’s often a per-story situation, but a story can only handle so many notes being played before the sound of it gets muddy. Plot accordingly, and don’t lose sight of who the main character is.

Another note: yes, the MCU doesn’t have a single main character. Even some of the MCU films don’t have a single main character, particularly the Avengers flicks, and discussing how to handle a story that has multiple MCs is not really what I wanted to focus on today. Summarized, those stories are possible but tricky. Please notice the way very few of the MCU main characters get introduced in the big team-up films. Most of the characters get their own films or get introduced as side characters in those films so the audience has to do less work initially investing in them when there is more than one main character present.

[melforbes]

seaglass blue annotations

hello! i just posted the last chapter and thought i’d put together some ~fun context~ for that fic. it got way way more attention than i ever expected and for something i feel i didn’t put that much effort into i think i did in the end put a lot of effort into it so i might as well talk about it and answer some potential questions.

my favorite book of all time is the sunlit night by rebecca dinerstein (yes, that one) and something i find really compelling about that book is how sparing the prose is, forcing the reader to fill in certain gaps, and i think having to fill in those gaps makes the book a really acquired taste with which either you love it or hate it and there’s not really an in-between

i also really adore how in that book the natural world backdrop comes to life, something i find really challenging to write. recently i even read into thin air, the book about the 1996 mount everest disaster, and even though the writing was superb, i still had to google what the hillary step was because i couldn’t picture it on my own. i don’t know how people write nature because to me it feels damn near impossible, but this sparing approach really worked, so i thought i might try it out. i tend to be longwinded (gestures vaguely at this post) and wanted to have certain parts of this be a lot smaller and more contained without negating impact. whether or not i made it work is anyone’s guess. definitely not my normal style, so to speak

based on the comments i’ve received i think this might be everyone’s favorite part. in my mind age of consent by new order was playing in the background. in pretty much every fic i have a scene like this one and all of them are based on the poem first base gold by rh*annon mcg*vin from her book branches (censored because she has a tumblr and i don’t want her seeing this haha)

i absolutely can’t do the poem justice by describing what it’s about, but the simplest, most basic interpretation of the poem is that there is no better place to kiss than right here, right now, because of the past. i really like that imagery and tend to use it a lot. she as a writer has been a big inspiration for me and if you’ve read my fic true minds i should add that the nonfiction inspiration for that was directly as a result of one of her youtube videos. i particularly love how the last paragraph (stanza? im not a poet) is one big run-on sentence that’s jovial and tongue-in-cheek and colloquial and straightforward. it feels triumphant in a quiet way to me and i love how it’s done. obviously my attempts at something similar are nowhere near as insightful, but still, the most basic image of this is that there is no better place to kiss, and that’s how i felt about the two of them finding pudding in the supermarket

this part is autobiographical; while writing this last year, i went through six months of intravenous drug treatment, a month and a half of which involved long days of doctor visits on every weekday. when you’re on stuff like that for a long time you end up with a central line for better access (potential plot hole in all of this: scully never had one) but for a month and a half i got poked almost every day and strangely enough it got harder over time. the first couple you never feel, but a week or two later you start flinching, and if the needle goes in the same vein each time, it hurts the more it gets prodded. i reached a point toward the end of the in-office visits in which i would bleed a lot every time i got poked, and i can’t watch anything like that happen to me so i was looking away each time, and when i felt that the nurse was done, i would look back over, and sometimes i would be looking down at a pool of blood that i hadn’t expected to see. it’s weird, you don’t actually feel yourself bleeding, i would’ve expected a hot bloody feeling but instead it felt like nothing. and when i say a pool i mean that it would drip down beneath my elbow, stain the sheet they’d put underneath, and i wouldn’t get all of it off until i showered. i didn’t necessarily find it scary, but it was surreal and kind of pulled me out of normalizing the experience i was having. for a very long time needing iv drugs was my greatest fear and i was surrounded by that then and fine, and then, there was blood all over my arm, and like, haha, this is actually not fine. you’d think something else would’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t. and now looking back at this paragraph i wish i’d edited it differently but hey that’s life

i’d never really understood the purpose of religion as a self-driven part of life until i took anatomy in college. i was raised catholic and though culturally i understand having a religion and being raised with one, i’ve never really reached for religion when i wanted answers, and i haven’t personally understood why that’s someone’s first option. and i know there’s been plenty of commentary on the hypocrisy of dana scully as a catholic who believes in science, yada yada yada, i think everyone has read all of that by now. but what struck me while learning anatomy is that there is a kind of neuron we don’t know the function of. there are four kinds of neurons, and one of them is still a mystery to us. and then, there’s all of these different parts of human bodies that exist in a certain perfect way, but why do they exist like that? to support life, yes, but why is it that we can make comparisons? why were irises not the same color? and we name valves of the heart after religious figures. we are so hell-bent on meaning that something literal will never be enough. and all of that made me think that dana scully has god to fill in what science won’t answer, at least not yet. and there’s definitely a bigger conversation about science as denial of indigenous cultures that i am nowhere near qualified to start. after taking those classes, i think i would be more shocked if she wasn’t religious. you can ignore pretty much all of the paragraph above but it was important to me that at some point in this fic she willingly conceded that she didn’t know what would happen and that she didn’t have answers. with illness, there is no logic, there’s no thinking your way out of it, and i think that would plague her for a long time. to me, she only would accept her death when she could say she had no idea what would happen, she has no answers, there’s nothing filling in her gaps anymore, and she’s comfortable with that. and i put all of that in a paragraph about my thoughts on god because it made sense to me. there are times that just feel like you’re in a movie and there’s no one else you can say caused them. it’s not enough to build belief on but it’s enough to bring a certain kind of wonder. also one time my parents insisted on watching stripes because it was so funny and when watching it none of us found it funny at all and my parents grimaced and were like what were we on that made that good back in the day so that’s in here now haha

and now, the biggest question: does she die at the end? when i came up with the idea for this fic, i knew the beginning and ending but not the middle, and i posted this as a smaller project (ie: chapters below 3,000 words) while illness made my bigger projects harder to work on and essentially flew by the seat of my pants the whole time. i wrote the last line a long long time ago and have always seen the ending as written as the concrete ending. when i started writing this, i never intended for there to be a definitive answer to whether or not she dies. i like premature endings (the ending of girls burn brighter comes to mind) and i think that this works better without saying whether or not she lives. and i also have a hard time with giving a definitive answer because this fic very much is about death and having her die would, of course, be traumatic, but showing her living instead i think ruins any takeaways people could have. i’ve never had cancer but as a chronically ill person i think i can speak to how you never actually win with illness; the best you can do is tie, and sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, you “lose” anyway, you lose spectacularly, and all of your effort was for nothing. i wholeheartedly believe that humans can’t emotionally or logically process natural disasters or illness, hence why much of the talk about illness in this is from mulder’s perspective as he experiences her terminal illness secondhand; that way, he doesn’t need to (but still likely will) find logic or reason or meaning for death from a terminal illness, so his discoveries and his coping mechanisms aren’t as urgently needed. had i written a chapter that describes how she lives, i think that the discussion of death in this would be voided altogether. and i also don’t believe the ending would be much different whether she lives or dies; there’s still the need for death acceptance and talking about dying, whether or not she lives, and none of the story in this fic would have happened had the characters known she would live. the whole point is not knowing.

for a little while i toyed with writing an unofficial sequel of sorts in which i spelled out what i think happens after the ending, but after realizing that that would end up being longer than the original fic and would also have some massive plot holes, i decided against it. i do have my own version and i don’t want to share that version because i never really intended for my version to be some kind of genuine sequel in which every question gets answered and everything is wrapped up and happy ever after and whatnot. it was just where my brain wandered in the same way it wanders when i watch an open-ended movie. all of that to say, if you think she lives, then she lives. if you think she dies, then she dies. it’s your decision. i’d much rather you choose than me. i never marked this as “major character” death on ao3 because, well, she doesn’t die in this fic. whether or not she dies after the fic ends, that’s for you to decide. 

thank you for taking the time to read my writing. i never expected this to blow up (it blew up for me at least, for a while it was my most popular fic ever, with i think thousands more hits than anything else i’d written) and the response has been mind-boggling and wonderful. i don’t respond to comments often because it makes me feel like a pompous jerk (”thank you for enjoying this! i, too, enjoy this thing i have written! oh ho ho!” is how it sounds to me in my head, whereas when other writers respond to comments to me it just looks like thanks man have a good day, feel free to call me a weenie) but i’ve appreciated all of them very much. THANK YOU! i hope your new year is a Whole Lot Less Shit than 2020. i don’t plan on writing more msr because i don’t really have any ideas for them. thank you for making my last time special <3

[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

Fifty Shades of Mikaelson

Shade 1

Authors Note: So here is the first installment of a mulit chapter series, I posted a teaser chapter last year and after a lot of work and editing here is the first chapter. This will be a slow burn series but I hope you will stick with it. Word Count: 2953 Pairing: ???Mikaelson x Reader Insert (Slow Burn) Warnings: Implied sexual humor. Richmond Virginia is the home to Mikaelson Enterprises, one of the largest companies in the US to date, with countless connections across the country and the world. After receiving the company from the untimely death of their parents and younger brother Henrik the six remaining siblings all took a share and equal role within the company. 

The loss of their parents and younger brother was hard on the remaining family and became so tough on Freya and Finn that they ultimately took a step back from public eye of the company and became silent partners, this allowed Elijah, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah to have a free rein on the company so to speak.What made Mikaelson Enterprises different to all the others was the fact that it didn’t have one sole purpose. 

The company originally thrived at investing low market sales. Rather than take the risk and invest in the higher term stock markets each sibling took to different sectors and reaped the rewards of their own doing which allowed them endeavour into other opportunities.Each sibling was different, Rebekah stuck to fashion. Her aim was that she wanted people to look great whilst not breaking the bank and so she worked with a large team of designers to manufacture a line of clothing that was stylish while being at affordable prices. Kol and Niklaus went into business together to create the bourbon of bourbons, wanting to create a new brand and enjoying the odd glass or two led them to a likely partnership. Elijah was different compared to his other siblings rather than go out into the world and create a new product he used his studies and degree and built a highly respectable law firm. And each separate business venture was all under the same roof in the tallest building in the city.

Springtime in Richmond was often cold and or wet, and as I watched from my large bedroom window the weekend hustle and bustle of those wanting to get to work on time hurried in large packs and then would disperse quickly into different buildings. I padded barefoot through my large apartment, still half asleep, yawning and stretching relying on my auto-poilet function to get me to my kitchen so I could sort myself out with a cup of coffee and some much needed breakfast. Scratching my scalp with my nails I waited for the kettle to boil when I heard my laptop ping with an email. Groaning that I had emails to read on my day off, I ignored them whilst I carried on waiting for the water to boil but then the glorious chime of the skype ringtone filled my ears and I begrudgingly went over to my desk and answered the call.

“You’ve got some explaining to do love.” Klaus said, as I clicked on accept.

“I'll take your late night business meeting went well.” I teased back wiggling my eyebrows, carrying my laptop to my kitchen island. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Caroline was the representative for the Salvatore’s?” 

“I didn’t want you to have...performance issues.” I replied with a higher tone of voice whilst also swinging my hips as my back was to the camera while I continued to fix up my daily dose of caffeine. 

“You can do better…” Klaus deadpanned sounding un-amused. 

“Is that what Caroline said, aww champ.” I said as I turned back around to the camera with a mug in hand sipping away at the hot liquid. 

“I need you in the office today.” He said changing the subject. 

“You know I don’t work Saturday’s.” I replied, leaning back against the kitchen cupboards taking another sip of coffee. 

“Kol needs a new assistant…”

“And that is my problem how?” I sassed back.

“Unless you want the extra workload? I suggest you find somebody.” Klaus said smugly as he raised his eyebrow. 

I leaned towards the camera slightly. “I mean the extra money would be nice but it doesn’t quite fit in with my schedule, but who in their right mind is going to put up with your brother? Come on how am I meant to pitch this? By the way the guy you're going to be working for is arrogant and so self absorbed not to mention he thinks he’s the hottest and smartest guy in the room.” I ranted sarcastically. 

“I’ll see you within the hour Y/N.” He said bluntly and he ended the call. 

Letting out a huff I closed the laptop lid in a swift motion and lent back on the kitchen cabinets and took my time drinking my coffee. I glanced up at the clock, I saw I had about forty five minutes to get into work, which meant an hour give or take. Putting my now quarter empty coffee cup in the sink I headed over to my bedroom and picked out some clothes to wear. Selecting a form hugging, white knee length dress with a thin black belt, I then moved into my on-suite bathroom and jumped in the shower.  

As I entered the building to my workplace I did my usual rounds of saying my good mornings and made my way to the elevator. Standing patiently I waited for the metal doors to open and it made me think back to my very first day at the offices working for Niklaus or Klaus as he liked to be called. I was fresh out of college and had my tuition debt looming over my head and as I read through the job adverts in the daily paper I saw that there was a position at the esteemed Mikaelson Enterprises, hearing that it was good money I applied for it and I had been working happily here for the past two and a half years.  

Strolling through into Klaus’ office he looked un-amused just like he was in the video call earlier.

“You're late…” He scolded.

“I told you I don’t work Saturday’s.” I sassed back. 

“Do you want to find yourself unemployed?” He threatened. 

“Oh please you couldn’t even last a day without me, I know you better than you know yourself. Tell me again who is it that sends out Christmas cards to the shareholders? Or handles organizing all of your meetings?” I replied, rolling my eyes at his lame threat. 

“Organizing meetings are a part of your job Y/N.”

“Ahhh Y/N there you are darling, here is the list of candidates you asked for.” Kol interrupted, walking into Klaus’ office interrupting mine and his bickering and the younger Mikaelson hands me a stack of files.

Taken aback by the weight of the files, I gave him a sarcastic smile. “I did?” I asked, gritting my teeth sending my boss daggers with my eyes. 

“Brother would you like to join me for a drink? The distillery has a new batch they would like us to try.” Kol asked. 

“Would love to, I’ll catch up in a few moments just have a few things to sort out here before we leave.” Klaus replies and with that Kol says his goodbyes and leaves the office. 

“Really? You're calling me into work so you can play hooky?” I questioned, gesturing with my free hand.

“Duty calls. If it makes you feel better you can work here.” Klaus says with a smile and gets up from his desk and grabs his leather jacket and heads for the door.

“Would you also schedule a meeting with Marcel?” He asked as he turned slightly facing me. 

“Sure, how does the 10th of kiss my ass sound?” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.

“Perfect love, I’ll see you later.” 

Klaus left his office and I let out another huff, so much for spending my Saturday at home binge watching TV whilst having a face mask on and eating a tub of ice cream, hanging up my woolen coat on the coat stand I placed the files on his desk. Slumping back against the leather office chair I reached out for the phone and slotted it under my ear and shoulder as I dialed the number for Marcel’s office while I looked at the first résumé. 

“Hello Gerard Corporation, Davina speaking.” 

“Hey Davina, it's Y/N.” I replied whilst scanning down the document. 

“Hi, Y/N! What can I do for you?” Davina asked in a chirpy tone.

“Can I book Klaus in to see Marcel next week? I did say it’ll be the 10th of kiss my ass but if that doesn’t work how does the 6th?” I asked her, spinning in the chair. 

I heard a chuckle down the line. “I have no idea how you can get away with talking to your boss like that!” 

“Takes practice, don't worry though in a year or two you’ll be speaking to Marcel exactly the same way.” 

“I doubt it, but you're in luck Marcel is free on the 10th. I’ll email you a confirmation this afternoon. But why are you working today? I didn’t think you worked on a Saturday?”

“Yeah so did I. Klaus called this morning saying that Kol needs a new assistant and that unless I want the extra workload to find someone suitable.” I replied with a grumble. 

“Oh dear. Have you found anyone yet?” She asked.

“Well so far I’m on the first one but listen to this.”

“Ok.”

“I’m hardworking, loyal to a fault and will complete any task given to me to the best of my ability.” I said in a completely different accent and all I could hear from the other line was Davina laughing.

“Kol is...a difficult person anybody sweet and nice would just crumble under him.” 

“Tell me about it, well here's to hoping I can find someone in this stack who can stick it to him. I best get back to work but fancy going for a drink on Friday night?”   

“Sure thing, let me know how it goes. Speak to you later Y/N.”

“Bye D.” I said as I put the phone down and got back to looking at the applicants. 

Taking another of the résumés I left the office and headed to the break-room to fix myself another hot drink. As I was leaning over the counter waiting for the coffee maker I heard a clearing of the throat. 

“Nice to see your putting in the extra hours Y/N. Niklaus seems to have taken the hint about getting you to work one weekend a month.” Elijah says. 

Slapping the document on the counter I span around. “Do you really have to make me sound so cheap Elijah?” I teased feigning that he hurt my feelings. 

“Deepest apologies Y/N, you are looking lovely today might I add.” Elijah says.

“Why thank you, what brings you to this floor?” I asked him, fluttering my eyelashes.

“I was hoping to see Niklaus, is he available?” 

“Wasted your time I’m afraid, he’s playing hooky with your brother down at the distillery. No idea what time he will be back. But I can call you once he gets back into the office?” I suggested, picking up the cup and slid the résumé under my arm.    

“That would be rather helpful, thank you. I couldn’t help but also notice that some of my brothers' employees were looking a little frazzled. Perhaps you could aid them?” Elijah said back. 

“I’m a secretary Elijah, I’m not running a day-care when your brother goes out.” I replied pulling a face, rolling my eyes and walked past him leaving him alone. 

As I walked through the office back to Klaus’ office one of his employees called Joshua collared me. “Miss Y/N the fax machine isn’t working.” He uttered stumbling over his words. 

“Joshua darling, did they not teach anything at college? Here hold this.” I started, handing him my coffee cup and file and went to the fax machine to which was surrounded by a few other members of staff.  

“Listen up children.” I called out. 

“Bessie has done her service over the years you just need to know how to deal with her.” I added as I lifted up a flip, kicked the bottom drawer and pulled out the paper that had jammed. 

“Thank you.” I said quickly taking my cup and file and made a rather sharp getaway and back into the safety of Klaus’ office. 

I spent the remaining part of the afternoon going through the remanding résumés and to be honest out of the thirty I had read none of them stood out to me, the majority of the applicants were female and seemed ‘too nice’ and I didn’t think they would stand a chance, what male applicants were there also didn’t seem to be packing much in the spunk department. Looking at the clock on the wall I noticed that it was three-thirty and I was seriously hoping that Klaus and Kol would be making their way back to the office soon so I could go home. When I had an idea. Picking up the receiver on the phone I dialed a number to which I hoped would be the savior I needed. 

“Hello.”

“Cami? Hey It’s Y/NN how are you? Just a quick one, are you still looking for another job?” I asked, twirling the wire around my forefinger.

“Y/NN, I’m good thanks and yeah I am. Why do you know of somewhere?” She asked me back.

“How do you feel working at the same building I work at? My boss's brother Kol, he’s looking for a new assistant. I will warm you though, he may be hot but he can be an ass.” I told her with a chuckle.

“Honestly I’ll take what I can get, the hours at the bar are getting fewer and fewer.” 

“Pop down to the office on Monday. I’ll schedule an appointment so you can meet him and get a feel for the place.”

“Alright I’ll do just that, thank you so much Y/NN.” 

“No worries Cami glad I could help.”

Ending the call and putting the phone back, the door to the office swung open and Kol and Klaus stumbled in, while Klaus propped himself up by holding onto the back of the sofa, Kol crash landed onto it. 

Raising an eyebrow. “I take it the tasting at the distillery went well?”

“That it did love.” Klaus slurred back.

“Did you find me a new assistant? Y/N” Kol asked me, shifting his position on the sofa.

“I did, I’ve set up an appointment on Monday so you can meet her. If she is too your liking she can start as soon as.” I replied back to him, moving to another part of the room that had a jug of water, pouring it into two glasses. I handed one to each of the boys. 

Klaus and Kol looked at me and then at the glass of water in their hand, letting out a sigh I made a drink up motion with my hands. 

“Elijah was also looking for you earlier, I did tell him I would contact him when you got back to office however I don’t think now is a good time. And that is also me done for the day thank you very much.” I added and collected my things and left the office. 

Walking into my apartment I was exhausted, dumping my handbag and coat on the sofa I stripped off and turned the shower on. Standing underneath the water flow I enjoyed having the hot water fall onto and down my body as I felt the day drain away from me. 

Monday came and I was back in the office like normal and already typing away at my desk which was located just outside Klaus’ office. I was in the process of sorting through some of the stray bits of paperwork that was scattered on my desk when the familiar notification came through. Glancing at the screen I let out a scoff, Klaus wanted to see me in his office. Pulling out the USB drive that was in my computer and strutted into the room. 

“His lordship wishes to see me.” I teased, mocking a curtsy. 

“Did you type up the transcript from the Salvatore meeting?” He asked bluntly. 

“Yes it’s all on here but you also have paper copies in the bottom drawer in your desk, you have a meeting in twenty minutes with Marcel and I also made a reservation at that fancy restaurant for you and Caroline at eight.” I replied, motioning to the USB stick in my hand when I mentioned it. 

“What would I do without you love?” 

“Probably you wouldn’t survive at all, but is it really a good idea to be seeing Caroline outside of business negotiations?” I asked him. 

“You see love that when people have too much to drink they let details slip. All you have to do is ask questions. But would you be a sweetheart and pick up my suit from the dry cleaners?” Klaus replies smugly. 

“If you say so, but in my opinion playing Caroline like the way your aiming is just a dick move. And what did your last slave die of?” I told him bluntly. 

“Love I’m not playing your friend. I’m playing the odds so I can win the bothersome game between us and Salvatore’s just remember who you get your paychecks from, and we ‘evil villains’ have minions such as yourself to go and pick up dry cleaning. Now if you don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, yeah I get it. Just if you do you know find yourself in a compromising position later tonight make sure you wrap it before you tap it.” I sassed, winking at him and left the office. 

[ronninoir]

Can I Steal You For A Second Chapter 36

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning Chp 1 on AO3

Welcome to the end everybody!!

                                          Six Months Later

Marinette was walking home from the grocery store when her phone rang. Checking out the caller ID, she quickly answered.

“Papa! I already told you that we’ll be at your house promptly at 5:30 tonight!” Marinette sighed into the phone as her father went off, just reminding Marinette of the precautions her and Adrien needed to take as they traveled throughout the city. Marinette hummed and replied generally where needed, knowing her Papa was just going to continue on.

Marinette was fully aware of the precautions she needed to take, her whole family been dealing with crazy fans and excited viewers for almost six weeks now. Someone had made the connection between Marinette and the Dupain-Cheng Bakery soon after the first episode premiered. Business had been booming, and crazy fans would find Marinette in the street, pledging their loyalty to her and some even saying she needed to find a better person than Adrien. Marinette had been able to connect with all of the girls involved in the show through social media except Lila, who refused to acknowledge any of them. The other girls, especially the ones who made it far like Juliette, and Lucie, had been dealing with similar situations in their hometowns as well.

Thankfully, Adrien was steadily by her side, even if they couldn’t be in public together. After the first incident with people surrounding her on the street, Marinette had broken down crying in their apartment, and Adrien had built her up and talked with her about similar experiences he had been through, as well as what to do about it in the future. Marinette had been cheating slightly, travelling more as Ladybug than she had in her daily life before the show.

Hometowns were airing tonight, and with that meant even more press for the Dupain-Cheng Bakery and even more attention on Marinette. Adrien and Marinette always had dinner before the Bachelor shows started airing because her parents wanted to know everything that went down that week before they watched the edited version, and so there wouldn’t be any surprises for them.

“Papa, I promise that Adrien and I will be careful, I really have to go now, I’m almost to the apartment.” Marinette and her father said their goodbyes before she ended the phone call. The doorman, who smiled sweetly and tipped his hat at her as she neared, opened the door for her and she quickly rushed into the elevator and up to her floor.

Living with Adrien was a dream. They just fit so well into each other’s lives and it made the transition to living together easy. Adrien had just finished converting the extra bedroom into a design space/office for the two to share, and it was perfect and convenient. Adrien had been forced to work from home since the show started airing, only leaving the apartment for important business meetings that never took place at Gabriel’s offices. Too many people knew where to find Adrien on a daily basis, so Adrien’s security team thought it was too dangerous to go to that building. And Marinette was inclined to agree.

If Marinette had it bad, Adrien had it worse. There were adoring fans, begging him to consider them, angry fans, demanding to know why their favorites went home, and even the crazy ones, wanting to just be near him and breathe the same air as him, but those were no different from his model days, just older than before. Adrien never let them bother him, and he has also taken to travelling more as Chat Noir, who at the moment seemed less famous than his alter ego, and was able to get from place to place safely.

As Marinette unlocked their door, she felt herself relax. No one had found their apartment yet, but Marinette had a feeling it was just a matter of time. Thankfully, she knew that all of the locations for shooting, unless specifically chosen for brand purposes, were kept secret and edited out of the show. Which meant that no one could find the mansion, nor more importantly, the apartment she was currently in.

“Adrien?” she called as she placed her keys in the bowl by the door, the one grocery bag she had on the counter next to it, and hung her coat up on the rack. She was just slipping her shoes off as she heard footsteps approach, and a smile spread across her face.

“Welcome home, beautiful,” Adrien said as he pulled her into a hug. She relaxed into the embrace and a feeling of home settled over her. It didn’t matter where she lived, if Adrien was by her side, she would be home.

“How was your day?” Marinette asked, moving to unpack the groceries and put them away. Adrien followed her into the kitchen, not really letting go of her waist.

“Ugh it was long. Who knew rebranding would be so crazy difficult! The paperwork is horrible, as well as the physical part of rebranding.”

“It would be easier if you weren’t doing the rebranding in secret, and your father wasn’t causing so much trouble about it.”

Adrien finally let go of Marinette and plopped down on a stool that was positioned at the end of the counter. “You think he would just accept the fact that this was happening and move on. He’s not going to involve a courtroom because he knows they would side with me. But it’s not like I’m changing the brand dramatically! It’s going from ‘Gabriel’ to ‘Agreste!’ It’s still his name! It just makes more sense that when we’re running the company we aren’t running a company named after someone who retired unpeacefully.” Adrien groaned again as he ran his hand along his face. “I’m sorry, I probably sound like a broken record. We’ve had this conversation before. Tell me about your day.”

Marinette smiled and gently placed her hand on top of Adrien’s. “I will happily listen to the events of your day every day, even if that means I get to hear the same stuff. Whatever bothers you I want to hear about it every time.” Adrien smiled and flipped his hand over to give hers a squeeze. “Anyway, you asked about my day. Well, Papa called me twice today, determined to make sure I didn’t forget what time we are supposed to be at their house. I think he’s nervous about what this episode is going to do to the bakery.”

“If it’s anything like what’s happening to Gabriel’s, he should be pleased with the results.” Business had been booming since the show aired. Everyone was dying to wear whatever the beautiful girls that were fighting for Adrien’s heart were wearing.

“He figures as much, he’s just worried about the extra workload that it’s going to put on them. They’ve already hired three new employees just to brace themselves for the impact.”

“They sound very well prepared though, and that’s half the battle.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling them!” Marinette interjected exasperatedly.

There was a pause where Marinette, still thinking about her parents, had zoned out into her own world. “Is that all that happened in your day today, love?” Adrien asked sweetly, squeezing her hand gently.

She snapped out of her daze and blushed. “No! Today was good. We started working on the new designs for the spring and I’m really excited. Especially considering my name will actually be on those designs since I’ll have publicly begun working at Gabriel by then.” Marinette paused once more, racking her brain for anything else that had happened today when she nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement. “Oh my gosh! I completely forgot to tell you! I saw my wedding dress this morning before work!”

Adrien beamed and his eyes glazed over like he did every time he was proud of her. “How amazing was it?”

“Oh, Adrien, it’s everything I ever dreamed it would be! I know I designed it and everything, but I was blown away when I actually got to see it in person. Maman and Alya both cried too.”

“And you’re sure you won’t let me see even the designs for this amazing piece of art you created?” A playful tone had colored his voice and Marinette felt her heartbeat quicken.

“You know the rules. No peeking until the day of the wedding, as I’m walking down the aisle.”

“Not even if I gave you a little something in return?” Adrien purred as a smirk spread across his face. He leaned towards her, and Marinette almost forgot how to breathe. She loved this man with every fiber of her being, and yet he would do something seductive like that and she would pause, thinking, Is this real? Does he really love me as much as I love him? And he showed her all the time, through his actions and words alike, that he really did.

Their lips met in a rough way and Marinette felt the fire in her gut heat up in response to Adrien. She leaned in closer, parting their lips and deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer than they had been a moment before. Marinette’s hands were tangling themselves in Adrien’s hair and she was just about to ask to take this to the bedroom when her phone rang.

The two jumped apart and Marinette quickly answered, trying to keep her heart rate down and her breathing steady.

“Hey Alya, what’s up?”

“We’re still invited tonight, correct? Because if I calculated correctly, I’m in this episode, which makes it automatically the best,” Alya asked, the city loud in the background of the call.

“Of course. You know that if Adrien doesn’t see Nino at least once a week, he’ll keel over and die of heartbreak.” Marinette joked. Both her and Alya laughed as Adrien let out a defensive, “Hey!” which caused the two girls to laugh even more.

“Oh well, we can’t let Sunshine’s heart break.” Alya responded, specifically using the nickname that she knew Adrien hated. Alya claimed that between Adrien’s bright blonde hair and his constant positive disposition that he was more sunshine than human. Marinette found it very appropriate, however, Adrien thought it was too high of a compliment to be applied to him, the black cat and essence of bad luck. He never argued with Alya though, just rolled his eyes and let it be, like he did right then, causing Marinette to giggle once more.

“I’ll text you as we leave my parent’s house and we’ll meet you guys here. The doorman should let you guys in the building, he’s used to seeing you two by now.”

Alya agreed, and the two girls said their goodbyes. Marinette put her phone on the counter after checking the time. “That call was very well timed, we really should be heading out. If we’re late, I think my Papa might pop his top.”

Adrien sighed as well and went to straighten his hair that Marinette had just messed up, “This having to be at places on a timely manner really is ruining my love life,” to which Marinette just laughed.

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

 The week after Hometowns was aired, Adrien was summoned to a television studio to do a live question and answer episode of the show called “Women Tell All.” All of the girls are invited back, except for Lucie and Marinette, to talk about various things that happened on the show and get the opinions of everyone after having watched it all back on their TVs.

Marinette was grateful Adrien had asked her to come with him. She wanted to see Hanna and Juliette so badly it physically hurt her. The producers had demanded that no one get together or see each other in person until this show, in order to keep the tensions and relationships fresh, even if it was filmed six months before. 

She was wearing a casual outfit, and felt very out of place with everyone’s fancy cocktail party dresses. But she knew that the only people who would see her are the other contestants and the backstage crew that passed her hiding spot. She watched the whole thing on a television backstage, and was able to watch Chris Harrison interview and ask the girls what the viewers wanted to know.

As the show began filming, Marinette almost felt more like an outsider rather than a participant in the show. The audience was lively and excited to hear what everyone had to say. Chris started out by interviewing Adrien, asking him about the journey, the ups, the downs, the bloopers, everything. It was exciting to see Adrien relax with Chris and play up certain things to the audience. He was a hit.

Then, Chris brought out all of the girls except for Juliette, who would have her own grand entrance, and Lucie, who wasn’t present. The conversation got heated, especially when the topic of where most of the drama stemmed from came up and all fingers pointed to Lila. Lila, who was paid by the broadcasting station to show up, was there and was the center of almost all of the discussion, as Chris (and truthfully, the viewers) were dying to know what in the world was going through that girl’s head for most of the show. Lila tried to deny all of her involvement in the drama, but a good number of girls, Hanna in the lead, stood up for Marinette, which warmed her heart. It was nice knowing that even after winning, these girls still cared enough for her to defend her on live television.

After Chris reigned in the chaos that Lila had caused, once again, among the girls, they brought out Juliette and asked her about the heartbreaking goodbye that Adrien had given her after Fantasy Suites. Juliette was awesome and Marinette yearned to give her a hug, especially when she teared up remembering how much it hurt to watch that back and have people tell her they wanted her to win. Eventually they brought Adrien back out and he talked with Juliette for the first time since that break up. Juliette handled it like a pro, and Adrien was as gentlemanly as ever.

Finally, Chris was signing off and telling everyone to tune in next week for the dramatic finale and a special live episode called “After the Final Rose,” where all the secrets will be revealed. Marinette had to pause, freaked out that in a week she would be going public about her relationship with Adrien. And on such a grand stage. She heard one of the producers say that they were viewed in every city in France, most of Italy, Germany, and England as well as scattered broadcast throughout the rest of Europe. It was an impressively scary number to consider.

Marinette was broken out of her trance by an all-too-familiar squeal.

“Marinette!”

She whipped around to see both Hanna and Juliette standing together, both looking ecstatic to see her. She let out a squeal of her own and collided with the two of them.

“Oh my gosh I’ve missed you guys so much!” Marinette squealed into Juliette’s shoulder. The girls laughed and echoed her sentiment. As they pulled away, Hanna grabbed her left hand and brought it close to her face.

“Ooooh he did a wonderful job!” Hanna announced, pulled back to show Juliette. Marinette blushed slightly.

“Damn, I would have married him for that ring alone.” Juliette said in a mock serious tone, shooting Marinette a wink, who let out a giggle.

“Just because it isn’t big and magnificent doesn’t mean that it isn’t beautiful. Plus, the two of us know better than anyone else, Marinette isn’t marrying Adrien for his money, and that here is obvious,” Hanna added with a wink.

“Hey!” Marinette protested, cradling her left hand against her chest. “I think it’s perfect.”

The two girls laughed and pulled her in for another hug. “Of course, you do, sweetie, because you’re smitten, that’s just who you are,” Juliette teased with a child-like pat on the head. Marinette giggled against them once more before they dragged her out of her hiding spot and onto the staging area, where the rest of the girls (minus Lila) were waiting. They all cheered for Marinette as she walked out and she blushed an even deeper red than before. They took turns admiring the ring, giving their congratulations and just reminding each other how amazing it is to be together once more.

“Oh, this won’t be the last time you see each other,” Marinette announced over the general chatter, after Alice sighed about how they would never see each other again. After a dramatic pause, Marinette continued, “You’re all invited to our wedding, of course!” The girls laughed and squealed and made plans to meet up at a later time to prepare for the upcoming event.

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

Nearly a week later, the day before the “After the Final Rose” special, Marinette was sitting at a coffee shop, mid-morning, sketching absentmindedly in her notebook. She was so engrossed in her work, that she didn’t even notice when someone had walked up beside her until they spoke.

“Beautiful work, as always.” Marinette startled a little, almost spilling her coffee on the design. She whipped her head to find the person she was waiting on.

“Lucie, glad you could make it,” Marinette replied as she closed her sketchbook, hoping to prevent any more almost-spills.

“Of course,” Lucie sat across from her and there was a beat of awkward silence before she spoke again. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For... reaching out. I was struggling a lot with what happened, and talking real with you made it better.”

“Lucie,” Marinette started, smiling sweetly and gently placing her hand on Lucie’s. “The worst part of the aftermath of the show was knowing how much pain you had to be feeling. I know you felt strongly for Adrien, as much as I did, and I couldn’t imagine what you were going through.” Marinette paused, making sure Lucie was actually listening to her. She wanted her friend to know she meant it.

“Well, I appreciate it. A lot.” Lucie gave her a small smile, and Marinette gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then reached to take another sip of her coffee.

“I would have wanted the same, so it only felt fair.” Lucie gave another sad smile and nodded. Marinette took that as a good sign. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Lucie’s head dropped, but she let out a sigh and met Marinette’s eyes. “I am. I know it’s going to be hard, but seeing Adrien again will be nice, and it’ll be good to have everything out in the open once again.”

Marinette nodded, “I feel that. It’ll be good to not be holding in any more secrets.” Except for the other major secret I’ve been hiding almost my whole life. Marinette sighed, rubbing her face with her left hand as her eyes slipped closed. She heard a gasp and her eyes flew open. Glancing down at that hand, she realized that she had forgotten to take off her engagement ring before she left for this public outing. Her cheeks reddened and she quickly slipped it off.

“Is that it?” Lucie asked, snapping out of her funk in a blink of an eye. Marinette nodded and handed the ring over for a closer inspection. “Damn.”

“What?” Marinette asked, slightly alarmed by her reaction.

“It really has been you this whole time.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette whispered, severely confused as Lucie passed the ring back to her and she slipped it into her pocket.

“Watching the show has opened my eyes to the way that Adrien’s relationships existed outside of the bubble I had created for myself. I was beginning to see it, but the ring... that is hard to refute.”

“I—I still don’t get it,” Marinette stuttered, her cheeks turned red with the implication that was inevitably coming.

“You two are truly sole mates, aren’t you? He’s a completely different person with you, and it’s amazing to see how much more he opened up with you than with the others. Something clicked early on with the two of you, and truthfully, none of the rest of us stood a chance.”

“Now that’s not true—”

“No, Marinette, I’m not upset. It—I actually have some closure now that I didn’t before. Adrien tried very hard to truly consider his options, but he found his person. My aunt says that some American sitcom called that ‘finding your lobster.’ I don’t really get it, but she says it with such reverence that it must be what you two did. I respect that. It’s going to make interacting with Adrien tomorrow that much easier.” Lucie nodded like that was the end of the discussion, but Marinette was still trying to process what happened.

“What—wait so you aren’t upset? What just happened here?”

Lucie gave the first genuine smile of the meeting, “I found my peace.”

There was a thoughtful silence as Marinette tried to figure out what to do next. The original reason for their meeting popped into her head and she shook her head to clear it.

“Lucie, there was actually a very good reason for me to meet you here, that didn’t involve you finding peace, although I’m glad that happened, it’s going to make this next part much easier.” Marinette stopped, scrutinizing Lucie’s face to see how she would react. When no alarming emotion appeared, Marinette continued.

“What do you know about Gabriel?”

“Adrien’s father or the company?”

“Both.”

“Not much. The company is popular here in France and other places around the world, chic, and a little pricey. The man is stoic and doesn’t talk much.”

Marinette almost snorted at that last comment but continued on. “What if I told you that your aunt and Gabriel Agreste have had recent business contact?”

Lucie’s jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly, “I would say you’re crazy. My aunt would never be considering doing business with a random French fashion line, no matter how popular. She’s firm on her designs and styles, which are very different from Gabriel’s.”

Marinette felt a sly smile creep across her face as the perfect plan clicked together in her head. “Oh, do I have a story for you.”

Hours later, after eventually having lunch with Lucie as well, Marinette ran home to talk to Adrien. As usual, he was sitting in the kitchen, doing paperwork while eating a sandwich. When she burst through the door, he almost jumped out of his seat.

“Marinette! What are you doing home? Did something happen?”

“Adrien, I figured out how to fix the company’s legal problems with your father and get him off our backs.”

Adrien blanched, “Oh this I have to hear.”

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

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Marinette asked, hesitation ringing in her voice. Adrien took a deep breath but nodded. “It’s not too late, just keep that in mind.”

Adrien pulled Marinette closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I think this is the only option we have going forward. It’ll be easier though, with Lucie on our side.”

“She deserved to know. I’m just grateful she took it so well.”

“Mr. Agreste,” a stagehand interrupted and both Adrien and Marinette looked up. “We’re on air in 60.”

“Thanks,” Adrien responded while reluctantly letting go of his fiancée. She straightened his tie and smoothed out his suit as he heard Chris Harrison address the waiting crowd.

“Well, after tonight the secret is out. You will publicly be my fiancée.”

Marinette sighed, “I can’t wait.” She grabbed his head and pulled her down to her level in order for their lips to meet. From somewhere onstage, he heard a crew member countdown from ten and he reluctantly broke off the kiss and turned to face the door he was expected to walk through after being introduced.

“I’m Chris Harrison, and welcome to After the Final Rose Live TV special. Tonight is a night none of us will soon forget. Just prior to the show, we received late-breaking news from Adrien regarding his relationship with Marinette.” The crowd ooohed but Adrien had to try not to laugh at Marinette’s eye roll.

“Yes, because so much has happened between getting engaged and still being engaged.”

Adrien let out a breathy giggle, “It’s just to build the tension.”

“And Lucie, how has her life been after a tearful goodbye almost eight weeks ago. And if that’s not enough, we have an exciting surprise for you, yes you, the viewers.” The crowd broke out in cheers for that. After a beat, Chris continued, “So, where to start tonight? How about the man himself—Adrien Agreste!”

Adrien walked on to the cheers of the crowd. He smiled and waved good naturedly and played along exactly as he was supposed to.

“Adrien,” Chris reached out his hand to shake, which Adrien took.

“Long time no see, Chris.” the crowd laughed as Adrien sat down on the love seat across from him.

“Yes, it does feel like it’s been a while. But tell me, how does it feel, now that the whole world has seen it all?”

“Oh my,” Adrien sighed, “It’s so nice. Marinette and I have been hiding and secretly being together since I proposed and it is just so nice to know that I can walk down the street holding her hand without it making the papers.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far—” Chris joked, and Adrien couldn’t help but laugh too. Marinette’s and his lives would never be without the press.

“You’re right, that’s more of a pipe dream.”

“Speaking of that proposal, oh my it was amazing.” Adrien was slightly taken aback by the applause that followed, and blushed against his will. “What are your emotions right now, after watching that play out on the screen last night?”

“Honestly, I’ve never been more in love with Marinette than I am right now. Getting to watch the show, our entire love story, played back was such a treat and allowed me to appreciate everything that Marinette went through even more. She is so strong and I meant everything I said and more.” The crowd awed, but Adrien just beamed. He could talk about Marinette for a lifetime.

“Wow, that was beautiful, Adrien. Are you always such a poet?”

Adrien let out a hearty chuckle, “What can I say, Marinette just brings out the best in me.” Another round of awes and applause.

“That’s sweet. I hate to burst your happy bubble, but let’s talk about Lucie.” There was a sudden hush among the crowd. Adrien made sure his expression turned solemn as well. “That was one of the tougher moments of the show, to say goodbye to her.”

“Yeah it really was. After those last dates, I spent some time thinking. I had two amazing girls, who are both beautiful and full of life and both could add such amazing things to my life after the show, but my heart had already made up my mind. I hated having to say goodbye to Lucie, but it just had to be done.”

“When was the last time you had felt emotions like that?”

Adrien paused, trying to remember what he had been feeling. All he can remember is the happiness that was finally proposing to Marinette. He would be expected to be sad, so he played along with it. “The last time I had felt that kind of heartbreak was on the first anniversary of my mother passing. This was a very similar hurt, but for this one I felt like I couldn’t break down and cry. I was the one doing the heart-breaking, so I tried to stay strong for Lucie.”

“But afterwards, did it hit you? That you had just let an amazing woman get away?”

“In a way. Those first couple of days, I would have moments of just pause. I would think about how she was doing and just hoping that she could still be that amazing person that I had the opportunity to meet so long ago.”

“As I’m sure you know, Lucie is backstage right now. Do you have any idea what you’re going to say to her?”

Oh, I have a whole script, “Not really. I’m hoping the words will come when I see her again.”

“Well on that note, please welcome Lucie!” Chris stood and Adrien followed suit as the crowd cheered for Lucie. She looked stunning, as ever and she smiled when she saw Adrien, which made him smile in return. She gave Adrien a hug and then sat down next to him.

“Welcome, Lucie. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, Chris, I’ve been better. This is a lot to take in, but I’m doing okay considering.”

“What’s it like seeing Adrien again?”

“It’s easier than I thought it was going to be. I haven’t seen Adrien since that last day. I’ve been watching the episodes, and that last one was hard to see. I’ve mostly just wondered what happened between us.”

Adrien made eye contact with Chris, who gave him a small nod, which he took as a go ahead to answer her. “I wish I had a reason for you, I really do. You are an amazing girl, and we got along so well. But in the end, I fell in love with Marinette and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and there just wasn’t anything I could do after that. I hated having to say goodbye to you, especially without a proper answer, but I’m hoping we can still be on good terms.” 

“It’s hard to be upset with someone as genuine as you, Adrien. I appreciate you sticking with your heart, and being honest with me here. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you, and I respect your decision. I’ve found my peace, and having watched the whole season back, I’m genuinely happy for you and Marinette.” The crowd applauded once more, and Adrien almost wanted to applaud himself. That had been very well said.

“Lucie, tell us how hard was it to watch all of the different moments you shared with Adrien on TV?”

Lucie laughed, “Funny that you would ask, my family actually was much more upset about the ending than I was. I treasure all of those moments where I got to see the real Adrien and even our last day, where we said goodbye, it was easier knowing that at least the girl he ended up with is amazing. She deserves my utmost respect, and I know that if the roles were reversed, she would have done the same for me.”

“Wait—wait. Back up. You said your family took the breakup harder than you?” Chris asked, shock easily read on his face.

Lucie laughed once more, “Yeah can you believe it? My parents adored Adrien and were already planning on taking him on our next family vacation and my aunt had even planned a trip for Adrien to come visit her in America. She had bought the plane ticket and everything.” Lucie laughed once more, and Adrien couldn’t help but blush.

“Wow, your family was dedicated.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement. I actually recently found out by accident that my aunt, who owns a fashion company in America, had actually been having secret business meetings with Gabriel Agreste. Apparently, when I won and Adrien and I became engaged, they were going to start a partnership and move towards merging the companies. So, as you can imagine, my breakup with Adrien threw a little snag in their plans.”

The entire studio audience broke into whispers and Chris’s jaw dropped. “Are you—are you serious? How in the world did you find that out?”

“Someone close to my aunt’s company approached me with their sympathies, and let slip about the deal going through.”

“Adrien did you know about this?”

“No, I had no idea.” He paused for a second and could feel his Father’s fury building from across the studio. “But, now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, my Father had always seemed to prefer Lucie over Marinette, or any of the girls for that matter. I never understood why. Right at the end, he encouraged me to propose to Lucie, and I just assumed it was because of her knowledge in the fashion industry. We both have been working in the business side of that world and on paper, she was the best fit for my life. I never would have thought that there was anything more.”

“Well, thank you Lucie, for joining us.” Chris said, rather abruptly.

Lucie looked slightly taken aback, but her smile returned quick enough that Adrien thought he was the only one to catch it. “Thank you for having me, this is exactly what I needed.”

Chris turned toward the camera, “You heard it here, Bachelor Nation. We’ll be right back with Adrien, and his new fiancée, Marinette!” The crowd cheered, but Adrien didn’t hear it, as Chris had leaned forward, turning away from the camera and whispered, “Adrien you are required offstage now.” Lucie and Adrien exchanged a look and as soon as time was called, they both went backstage, gathering Marinette on the way.

Gabriel was in a back room, sitting. Adrien couldn’t read his mood and approached him like he would a wild animal, slowly.

“You wanted to see me?”

“What have you done?” Gabriel hissed in response.

“Father—”

“Shut up! You got your little bitch, it wasn’t enough just to stop there? The company, I understand it was going to be yours soon enough anyway, but my credibility? My dignity? How did she find out?”

Lucie stepped forward and for what appeared to be the first time, Gabriel realized there were other people in the room. “You will not talk to Adrien right now. What you did was sick and conniving and despicable. How my aunt could have ever agreed to do business with you is beyond me. But as a mostly impartial outsider, if you don’t step down and get out of Adrien’s way, you won’t have a company to pass on. We may have done some damage, but we did the right thing. You cheated the system and you lost anyway. Just admit defeat, or we can go out and do even more. Marinette told me stories, and I know what else you’ve done. In my opinion you are getting off easy.” And with that, Lucie turned on her heel and stormed out.

Marinette stared baffled after her and, with a quick glance at Adrien, she handed him the file she had been holding and followed her out of the room.

Adrien stood before his Father, who for the first time in Adrien’s life looked disheveled, and felt nothing for this man. He was upset that he had given so much of his time and love to this statue who couldn’t even recognize when he’d been defeated. “Sign these papers. We’re changing the name. We’re changing the way things are done. And more importantly. we’re accepting Marinette with open arms. She is my Emile, and if for some ungodly reason I lose her before we’ve lived a full life, I hope I don’t ever become as loveless and as cold as you.”

Adrien left the papers on the table and followed the girls out the door.

He found them right off of the stage, where they could still hear the commercials coming through. Adrien opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Lucie. 

“I am so sorry, Adrien. I don’t know what came over me. I just got so fired up for everything he had done to you and to me and to this show. I bubbled over and I hope it didn’t do too much damage.”

Adrien couldn’t help but smile. “You were perfect. I think you got through him better than I ever could. Thank you for your kind words and for being so amazing about this.” Lucie attacked him with a hug and Adrien felt his heart swell. 

“I hope I can find something like you two have,” Lucie announced when they broke apart.

“You will,” Marinette said, stepping up and giving Lucie a hug as well.

A loud voice called from onstage, effectively breaking up their huddle, “Ten seconds to live!”

“Please stay in touch!” Adrien called to Lucie as he was herded onto the set. She nodded and turned once again towards Marinette as Adrien plopped down onto the love seat. This second half should be easier.

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

“Welcome back Bachelor Nation! It has been a whirlwind of a night. We’ve checked in with our Bachelor, we’ve checked in with Lucie, and we’ve checked in with France’s hottest couple, Marinette and Adrien, but what is the big surprise? Let’s find out.”

“Marinette, Adrien, all of those in the studio audience and the viewers at home all around Europe have been on pins and needles—scratch that even I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to know what this big surprise is. Will you please tell us already!”

Adrien and Marinette laughed, “Okay okay, we’ll tell you.”

“So, as you all know,” Marinette started, “Adrien and I are getting married.” Cheers from the studio audience. “And you know that Adrien and I love each other and are just ready to start living our lives together.”

“And with that being said, we want to tell you that we are indeed getting married—” Adrien paused for dramatic effect.

“In a month!” The two said together. The crowd went wild.

“And the best part is,” Marinette shouted over the glee, “everyone’s invited!” The crowd went crazy again, and it took Chris a couple of minutes to calm it all down.

“How does that work, exactly?” Chris asked, once everyone could hear again.

“Our wedding is going to be aired, live on television!” Adrien announced. He sounded as giddy as a child on Christmas.

“All of the viewers have been a part of our love story for so long, we wanted to make sure no one got left out. The ceremony will be filmed with exclusive behind the scenes features that you wouldn’t be able to see in person and the reception will be aired as well! All of the girls will be there and my best gal, Alya is going to be my witness!”

“Well what a surprise that is!” Chris said amongst the cheers that would never end. “Congratulations, you two! Everyone is invited to a Bachelor Wedding, a month from today. We’ll release more info as the time draws near. Have a great night, Bachelor Nation!” The cheers and excitement of the crowd continued, even as the credits began to roll. 

“Are you really watching that again?” A voice said from behind her, causing Alya to jump.

“Ahh! Nino! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Alya screamed as she clutched her heart and collapsed deeper into the couch.

“Babe, I’ve been in the house the whole time. At least I waited until the end to judge your 73rd watching of that episode. I learned my lesson.”

Alya flinched slightly, remembering how much she had yelled at Nino the last time he interrupted her mid-episode. “I said I was sorry.” All she got in return was a non-committal hum. “Look, our Marinette found the love of her life and we got to experience it with her the whole time, and then again as we watched the episodes. It’s beautiful, I love to be reminded of their true love.”

Nino just snorted. “More like you love you being on national television.” 

“Hey now! They are starting to show our season in America as well, so it’s actually international television.” Nino just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, babe. But if you don’t go get ready now, we’re going to miss the rehearsal dinner, and I heard a rumor there may be cameras there too.”

Nino had never seen Alya get ready so quickly.

~~~

This is the LAST CHAPTER and then the Epilogue! Hope you all enjoyed this story! We just wanted to say thanks for coming along with us! 

There is an idea we have for a sequel, so let us know if you would like that to happen!! 

@momor3202

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@discoveringmiraculouswriters

@adrianarfox

@verooquieremimir

@jeminiikrystal

[letterboxd]

Lockdown Lens.

The filmmakers behind found-footage hits Searching and Host share their best tips for making movies in quarantine. Hint: you’ll need to tape your camera to your laptop, move away from the wall, and plump up the post-production budget.

“There is a really opportunistic moment here that you can take advantage of, if you come up with the right thing.” —Aneesh Chaganty, director of Searching

“You should never wait for the ideal circumstance because it doesn’t exist. Look at what you’ve got right now and use that.” —Rob Savage, director of Host

A low-budget thriller starring John Cho as a desperate dad, Aneesh Chaganty’s 2018 debut feature Searching, co-written with Sev Ohanian, shook up the found-footage genre with its seamless blend of content from chat rooms, social platforms, security-camera footage and news coverage. Chaganty and Ohanian’s next film, Run, which also takes place mostly inside one house, will debut on Hulu later this year after its theatrical release was quashed by Covid-19.

Meanwhile, a 56-minute séance horror that appears to take place entirely on a Zoom call became the most popular film on Letterboxd within a week of landing on Shudder in July (our popularity score is based on the amount of activity across our platform for each film, regardless of rating). Host—conceived and completed within just twelve weeks—was written by Gemma Hurley, Rob Savage and Jed Shepherd, and directed by Savage.

Our editor-in-chief Gemma Gracewood asked Chaganty, Hurley, Savage and Shepherd to draw on their expertise in making browser horrors and other limited-setting stories, to inspire other aspiring filmmakers sheltering in place.

Listen to the full interviews on the Lockdown Filmmaking episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Joseph Lee and John Cho in TV news footage from ‘Searching’.

Keep the parameters tight.

“Making a story in a limited setting is a very smart thing to do for an aspiring screenwriter—first and foremost because it’s produceable,” Aneesh Chaganty advises. ”If you’re an unknown entity in the film world, the cheaper your product takes to make is probably a better bet for you to be taking as opposed to writing a kajillion-dollar project. The first project that I wrote was a $90-million movie that Sev and I wrote. ‘Why did we do this?!’”

Chaganty also stresses the need to ensure your project wants to be a limited-setting story. “A lot of times I’ll read a found-footage script and it will often feel like all it wants to be is a not a found-footage script. There’s a lot of times where it feels like the writers don’t want it to be that.”

Explore the whole box.

Chaganty encourages aspiring writers to imagine your limited environment as a box. “You’re writing within this box, all the characters are in this box, I think the best way to examine it is not to ever try leaving the box, but make sure you explore it every which way. The box upside down, the box right side up, the box left, the box right…

“This is an objective that should apply to all films, but it’s easier to objectively analyze whether you’re doing it in a limited setting. With a film like Searching, we have to make sure that every possible iteration of how a narrative can take place on a computer screen is done. Looking at a movie like Buried, they’re doing every possible iteration of how that story can be told underground, in a coffin, before [the location] starts to change.”

(Good news for fans of Searching: with new tech platforms appearing all the time, it turns out there are more parts of the box to explore. A sequel is in the works, but Chaganty won’t be in the director’s chair.)

Give yourselves a deadline.

With no end to the pandemic in sight, it’s easy for one day to melt into the next. Keep your team motivated with a deadline. “I gave us two weeks,” says Rob Savage, Host’s director, who co-wrote the film with Jed Shepherd and Gemma Hurley, after his Twitter prank went viral.

“So we had two weeks, all three of us, to come together,” adds Hurley. “Let’s figure out a structure, let’s figure out these character dynamics, figure out a way to build tension around this idea of a séance and hang a story and a journey for the characters, for where we want the séance to end up. We had a Google doc where we were editing it together. I’d go away and do my pass, Rob would go away and do his pass, and Jed would. And that was it. It was really just like, run and gun, go go go.”

“If things had gone to plan we would have had this out in two months; in the end it took three,” Savage continues. ”It took twelve weeks from when I first called Jed up and said ‘let’s make a feature’, to delivering the movie—roughly breaks up as two weeks of writing, we shot for three weeks, and then a lot of editing and VFX time.”

Know your story inside-out, but don’t labor the script.

“We’ve got some hearts to break, here,” warns Hurley. “There was no official script in the standard way because there just wasn’t time. The whole point was capturing a zeitgeist moment… If we went away and wrote a feature-film script, well, ‘we’ll see you after the pandemic’s over, guys!’. You’d miss that moment. That was the joy of it. You didn’t have time to labor over every syllable.”

Some of Host’s key moments were scripted, Hurley reassures. “We had lines we wanted them to suggest, but more than giving them dialog it was about giving them prompts for every scene.”

Savage adds: “The thing that we did really well, at the end of the two weeks of writing, is every single scene, me, Jed and Gemma, you could quiz us all in separate interrogation rooms, we’d be able to tell you the purpose of every scene and what we wanted to get out of them. We had the movie so clearly in our heads in terms of how we wanted it to feel.”

An advantage of having a treatment rather than a completed script? “A sense of discovery every day,” says Savage. “The actors just brought that amazing spontaneity to it and these incredible performances, because we knew the parameters.”

Aneesh Chaganty and John Cho on the set of ‘Searching’, with a GoPro behind the laptop capturing the webcam view. / Photo by Elizabeth Kitchens

Choosing your camera (spoiler: it’s not your laptop’s).

“John is acting against a black screen,” Chaganty reveals. “There’s nothing on his computer, he’s literally looking at nothing.” To ensure complete control over their footage while preserving authentic eyelines, both sets of filmmakers taped additional cameras to the laptops of their key talent. In Host, each of the Zoom participants had iPhones recording at their highest resolution “so we knew we were getting a clean 1080p,” says Savage. In Searching’s case, it was a GoPro taped to the rear of the various computers used by John Cho.

“Before we started shooting the film,” Chaganty explains, “we had to make [an animatic] version using Adobe Premiere, because much of John’s performance is knowing his eyeline. He needs to know exactly where the iMessages open up—in order for us to know that we almost have to know those decisions already.” Chaganty and his team developed a 100-minute animatic cut, with Chaganty playing every role; “understanding where every window is, where every cursor is, so that by the time we get to set, what I’m doing is showing John ‘okay, this is where that message pops up, and while you’re talking to Deborah, you’re going to look over there, go down there, open Chrome, type in…’ So everything is very specific eyelines. Sometimes my notes after a take would just be ‘John that was great, just move the cursor a little further to the left this time’.”

Haley Bishop as séance host Haley in ‘Host’.

Develop your characters and the genre will take care of itself.

Chaganty and the Host team have the same advice for how to ratchet up the tension in a limited-setting film: it’s all about character. “If you’re going to end up putting these characters through tough times and potentially kill them,” says Shepherd, “develop them as real characters, so that we care about them.”

Although Host’s script was, in fact, only a seventeen-page beat-sheet, the most important part of its structure was the long stretch up front where the characters are dialling into the call and catching up—what Shepherd calls the “getting to know you bit”. “That first part is really important because if it wasn’t for that, the third act wouldn’t work at all. The best thing to do is make your characters real, authentic, believable. Everything else takes care of itself.”

Chaganty agrees: “When you are writing something that is genre, your other decisions don’t have to be genre, and in fact it might elevate it more when you don’t do that, because everything else is already doing that, you know?”

In particular, he advises, trust your talent to lean into their characters, rather than into the genre. “This was my challenge at least, as a totally amateur director: sometimes what I was looking for was the most obvious take as opposed to the most subtle take. “When we left the shoot I was thinking it was take six, or the one where it was most obvious [John] was angry or he was sad or something—and what we ended up using was the most subtle takes. That subtlety, that underneath layer, so much of that was him. He’s so good. He’s so good. I hate to say it, but I didn’t realize how good he was until we edited it together.”

Spend time getting the interface right.

“There’s not a frame of Zoom footage in the actual movie.”—Rob Savage

Found-footage films and browser horrors rely on the believability of the content. Searching and Host work because the footage feels real, even though the reality is there are multiple takes and a lot of post-production. Just as Searching was built around a detailed animatic, Host is, in fact, not a recorded Zoom call, but a result of three weeks of filming every actor in multiple takes, with stunt set-ups, followed by the addition of VFX and Zoom interface details.

“Originally the plan was just to screen-record a Zoom call, but then we realized that we were pumping so much money into doing these crazy stunts and effects that we could blow half the budget in 30 seconds,” says Savage. “You’re basically making five movies. We have to make sure the performances are all tight in every single screen. Radina might be amazing in take one and Jemma might nail it in take three and we have to cut them all together so they work seamlessly.”

Savage praises Host editor Brenna Rangott for pulling it all together, underscoring the importance of post-production in your budget and schedule. “Honestly, what Brenna did with all this footage? It’s her movie as much as it’s anyone else’s movie. She absolutely smashed it.”

The Host crew also relied on fellow filmmaker and designer Dan Hawkins to build the almost 4,000 individual assets in the film, and producer Douglas Cox, who went through the whole movie to type out every single name, label and other Zoom interface detail. “4,000 times he had to do that, and that’s what you see to make it play seamlessly.” (And, yes, they had Zoom’s permission.)

Jed Shepherd, Rob Savage and Gemma Hurley during a Zoom séance for Slashfilm with Chris Evangelista.

Trust your gut.

The Host team were pursued for a feature-length version of Savage’s Twitter prank by a “mind-blowing” number of studios—“it was a really competitive situation,” says Savage—but they went with Shudder for one reason: instinct.

“It was the height of the lockdown and a lot of production companies just started ringing and saying ‘Is there a longer version of this? Because it’s the only thing we can shoot right now’. So we pitched to a bunch of places, and the pitch was basically ‘a Zoom séance, we don’t know if it’s going to be any good, we’re going to use our mates, are you in or not?’ and Shudder [was] like ‘of course we are’.”

It wasn’t about the money. Some companies offered more generous budgets, but wanted to release six to eight months after filming. “We were like, ‘no, this needs to be out this week’.”

Move away from the wall.

Since so much of the movie business—all those endless meetings—has pivoted to video-calls, we asked the filmmakers for specific advice on how to present yourself online, in pitch meetings, table reads and the like.

The very minimum, they all agree, is to have good lighting. “It’s crazy what a difference a desk lamp can make to your environment,” says Chaganty. And move away from the wall. “Rule number one any director of photography will ever say, is don’t shoot at a wall,” he adds. “The further that you can place yourself from that wall, it’s just going to look better.” (It also gives you more protection from any demons that may burst from cupboards during your Zoom, Host’s filmmakers advise.)

Chaganty reveals that the pandemic has actually helped his pitching abilities in video meetings with executives. Chaganty and Ohanian are currently developing a heist movie, while simultaneously pitching a television show. “Right now pitches are all digital. Traditionally when you pitch something, it’s a lot of material and you just memorize it. But now, you can have your script with you—but you can’t make it seem like you’re reading off a screen.” The trick, he says, is to re-size the window of the person you’re pitching to, and re-size the script to the same dimensions, then place them directly over each other.

“So you’re reading and your eyeline is exactly where they are, and then you switch over, and they’ll never know and you’ve just pulled it off perfectly because you’re still looking at the exact same spot. It just kind of feels like an incredible performance where you’ve pulled these great words out of your mind and your heart, without anyone knowing.”

On the other hand, don’t put too much effort into details that nobody will notice. “We were doing a table read for a film,” says Host’s Shepherd, “and I thought it would be fun to change the background to correspond with what scene were were reading. I thought it was really clever but nobody noticed except me.”

Producer Natalie Qasabian, writer-producer Sev Ohanian and writer-director Aneesh Chaganty on the set of their forthcoming feature, ‘Run’.

There’s no time like the present.

“When digital cameras came out, everyone started saying ‘this is a great thing for filmmakers because it really democratizes filmmaking’,” says Chaganty. “We are in a very small bubble where it’s even more democratized than it was before—that’s because everybody has the same resources that we do right now.

“It feels like John Oliver and Hasan Minhaj and Trevor Noah are all making stuff with the same quality that you can make, that I can make, just in our own houses right now. The longer this pandemic goes on, and the longer that it feels that Hollywood can’t make traditional stuff the way it used to, the more likely it is that the demand for content is going to rise.

“If you can make something good in this time, I think you’re in a really good spot as far as getting eyeballs on it. And eyeballs essentially are the things that can propel a career to the next stage.”

Plus, there are mental health benefits to making movies together, at a time when we are all being urged to stay socially connected while physically distant. “What’s been really nice about the whole thing is it just made it so clear how collaborative a process filmmaking is,” says Savage. “Normally people kind of forget about that and you have ‘a film by’, but here you had to put so much trust in everyone. It was just a really fun way of working. I recommend it to everyone.”

‘Host’ is available now on Shudder. ‘Searching’ is available via VOD platforms. ‘Run’ is coming soon to Hulu in the US and will be released theatrically in international markets. (Aneesh Chaganty has been diligently updating his Letterboxd diary, which includes one of our favorite recent reviews of Steve Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’.)

[wikipediaredoengl199fa20]

Brennan’s Wikipedia Redo on Elon Musk page

Edits are in bold. Original Wiki page can be found here.

Early Life, Human Flight and SEC Lawsuit

Early life and family

Elon Reeve Musk was born on June 28, 1971, in Pretoria, Transvaal, South Africa.[15][16] His mother is Maye Musk (née Haldeman), a model and dietitian born in Saskatchewan, Canada,[17][18][19] but raised in South Africa. His father is Errol Musk, a South African electromechanical engineer, pilot, sailor, consultant and property developer.[20] He has a younger brother who was an early business partner of his, Kimbal (born 1972), and a younger sister, Tosca (born 1974), the CEO of the video streaming site Passionflix.[19][21][25] His maternal grandfather, Dr. Joshua Haldeman, was an American-born Canadian.[26] His paternal grandmother had both British and Pennsylvania Dutch ancestry.[27][28]

After his parents divorced in 1980, Musk lived mostly with his father in the suburbs of Pretoria,[27] a choice he made two years after his parents separated but which he subsequently regretted.[29] Musk has become estranged from his father, whom he has described as "a terrible human being... Almost every evil thing you could possibly think of, he has done."[29] He also has a half-sister[30] and a half-brother on his father's side.[31] After his parents divorced in 1980, nine year old Musk and his younger brother primarily lived with his father in the suburbs of Pretoria,[27]. This was a choice he made two years after his parents separated but it was one that he subsequently regretted.[29] Musk has become estranged from his father, describing him as emotionally abusive and tough to his children. [Kosoff 2020] He also has a half-sister[30] and a half-brother on his father's side.[31]

During his childhood, Musk was an avid reader.[32] At the age of 10, he developed an interest in computing while using the Commodore VIC-20.[33] He learned computer programming using a manual and, by the age of 12, sold the code of a BASIC-based video game he created called Blastar to PC and Office Technology magazine for approximately $500.[34][35] His childhood reading included Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, from which he drew the lesson that "you should try to take the set of actions that are likely to prolong civilization, minimize the probability of a dark age and reduce the length of a dark age if there is one".[29]

Musk was severely bullied throughout his childhood and was once hospitalized after a group of boys threw him down a flight of stairs.[29][36][37] He attended Waterkloof House Preparatory School and Bryanston High School[37] before graduating from Pretoria Boys High School.[38]

Although Musk's father insisted that Elon go to college in Pretoria, Musk became determined to move to the United States, saying "I remember thinking and seeing that America is where great things are possible, more than any other country in the world."[39] Musk knew it would be easier to get to the United States from Canada and moved there against his father's wishes in June 1989, just before his 18th birthday,[40][41] after obtaining a Canadian passport through his Canadian-born mother.[42][43]

Human flight

On May 30, 2020, SpaceX launched its first manned flight called Demo-2 becoming the first private company to both place a person into orbit and to eventually dock a crewed space-craft with the ISS.[108] Further, the launch was the first time since the end of the Shuttle Program that an American astronaut has been launched from American soil on an American rocket.[109]

During discourse with his peers when the technology of SpaceX was criticized or had the potential to cause fatalities, Elon Musk has described himself as the company's responsible chief engineer/designer, while giving the entire team at SpaceX credit for its success.[110][111]

On November 16, 2020, Space X successfully launched with NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) four astronauts into their space mission on SpaceX Crew Dragon. They docked with the International Space Station (ISS) approximately 27 hours later. Unlike the test flight in May, 2020, this flight had a full set of scientific experiments planned for the trip, as well as plans for a stay on the ISS for six months. The launch was nearly stopped, as Elon Musk announced that he had symptoms of COVID-19 the day before the launch, but careful contact tracing verified that the astronauts had not been exposed.  This joint project, where the space vehicles are owned by Space X but with NASA buying their use for missions, means that Space X will be able to fly tourists, private scientists and others, with a projected ticket cost of $50 million for the trip. [Wattles 2020]

SEC lawsuit

In September 2018, Musk was sued by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) for a tweet claiming that funding had been secured for potentially taking Tesla private[149] (at a price of $420 a share, an alleged reference to marijuana[150]). The lawsuit claimed that verbal discussions Musk held with foreign investors in July 2018 did not confirm key deal terms[151] and thus characterized the tweet as false, misleading, and damaging to investors, and sought to bar Musk from serving as CEO of publicly traded companies.[149][152] Musk called the allegations unjustified and that he had never compromised his integrity.[153] Two days later, Musk settled with the SEC, without admitting or denying the SEC's allegations. As a result, Musk and Tesla were fined $20 million each, and Musk was forced to step down for three years as Tesla chairman, but he was able to remain as Tesla's CEO.[154]

Musk has stated in several interviews since that he does not regret sending the tweet that triggered the SEC investigation. According to Reuters, Musk said the tweet was "Worth It".[155] According to ABC News, "As recently as Oct. 4, 2018, Musk issued a sarcastic tweet, describing the agency [SEC] as the 'Shortseller Enrichment Commission,' despite having agreed to settlement terms a week earlier that his company, Tesla, would monitor his tweets and other communications."[156] In a December 2018 interview with CBS's 60 Minutes, Musk stated, "I want to be clear. I do not respect the SEC."[157] On February 19, 2019, according to Forbes, Musk stated in a tweet that Tesla would build half a million cars in 2019.[158] The SEC reacted to Musk's tweet by filing in court, initially asking the court to hold him in contempt for violating the terms of a settlement agreement with such a tweet, which was disputed by Musk. This was eventually settled by a joint agreement between Musk and the SEC clarifying the previous agreement details.[159] The agreement included a list of topics that Musk would need preclearance before tweeting about.[160] On May 19, 2020, a judge prevented a lawsuit from proceeding that claimed Musk's tweet on May 1 regarding the price of Tesla stock ("too high imo") was in violation of the agreement.[161][162].  Legal experts suggest that some of the legal actions by the SEC against Musk for stating his view, is a violation of First Amendment rights of free speech, and that he should have equal protection of free speech about his viewpoints on how successful his Tesla company will be. These experts argue that this is no different that the free speech protection provided to political figures. [Markham 2019]

Essay -

This essay addresses a review of the Wikipedia page of Elon Musk, an entrepreneur, industrial designer, engineer and also billionaire.  It is a detailed web page covering his extensive business ventures, and when converted to a single-spaced Word document, it was approximately sixteen pages long.  Three sections were addressed in this review, his Early Life, Human Flight, and SEC lawsuit.

There seem to be a number of biases in the Wikipedia page by omission of content. This might be considered implicit, perhaps someone forgot to add the information, perhaps they did not think it was important or necessary.  It also might be considered explicit, such as purposely excluding content that might give someone a different view of the subject, in this case of Elon Musk.   Some of the omissions could be in progress, such as the discussion of the November 16, 2020 successful space launch, which was covered in depth by the United States Press, both on media and print.  On the other hand, Wikipedia pages can be updated in a day, which often seems to happen when someone dies.

In the first part, Early Life and Family, there seems to be an explicit bias against Elon Musk’s father, and includes a quote from Musk, according to Rolling Stone Magazine, saying of his father, that he was "a terrible human being... Almost every evil thing you could possibly think of, he has done."  There is no clarification of what these evil things might have been, but it sounds pretty horrendous. There is no counter argument to provide any context for his father.  I modified it, changing the line above to one used in an article by Kosoff that refers to his father as being emotionally abusive and tough on his children.  This still conveys a difficult home life, but without evidence it doesn’t seem right to describe it as evil.  There did not seem to be any available resources on the father’s perspective of his son.   Also added the detail that Musk was only nine years old when he moved to live with his father.  I removed the line that described some of his ancestors as it seemed to try to provide implicit bias for him, in particular to explain why he might have the right to come to Canada first and then the United States as a citizen, since his ancestors were from there.  This convey that he is entitled because of his ancestors, but it seemed out of context to list one maternal and one paternal grandparent.

The section on Human Flight ended with the May 2020 test launch and did not include the highly publicized and successful mission launched with four astronauts on November 16, 2020.  This seems a dramatic omission, as it was all over the news.  This seems to me to be an explicit omission, perhaps because of the COVID-19 scare, which also meant he could not attend the launch, or if it was because some are jealous of the success of his ventures.

The SEC Lawsuit section presents an implicit suggestion that Musk is rejecting the right of the SEC to regulate company officers, in particular to protect investors. The SEC did have a number of legally defensible points, which led to a large fine and limiting Musk’s participation in the Tesla company.  However, there are some legal experts that also defend the right of Musk to have free speech about his opinion of how the company will do in the future, which is different that suggesting he has arranged for company financing to go private.

The revisions that I made primarily fill in gaps in the Wikipedia page, that indicated potential bias.  While much of the document appears to be very factual, the omissions, although only a few, can lead to bias.

The sources reviewed and then used for this review are included in the Works Cited section below. These included news articles, business stories and biography sites. There are also books available, that would have provided some additional depth and analysis, but they were not used for this particular review.

Works Cited - 

"Elon Musk." Wikipedia, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elon_Musk. Accessed 8 Dec. 2020.

"Elon Musk Biography." The Biography.com website, A&E Television Networks, 17 Nov. 2020, www.biography.com/business-figure/elon-musk. Accessed 7 Dec. 2020.

"Elon Musk Promoted Coronavirus Misinformation for Months. Then His Own Infection Kept Him out of SpaceX's Astronaut Launch." The Business Insider (Blogs on Demand), 2020. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsgao&AN=edsgcl.642824056&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Kosoff, Maya. "Elon Musk's childhood was 'excruciating' and he got beaten up a lot." Business Insider, www.businessinsider.com/elon-musks-childhood-was-excruciating-2015-5. Accessed 7 Dec. 2020.

Markham, Jerry W. "Securities & Exchange Commission vs. Elon Musk & the First Amendment." Case Western Reserve Law Review, vol. 80, no. 2, 2019, pp. 339-79.

McLean, Rob. "Elon Musk Says He Has Moved to Texas." CNN.com, 9 Dec. 2020, www.cnn.com/2020/12/09/tech/elon-musk-texas/index.html. Accessed 9 Dec. 2020.

Shephard, Alex. "Oligarch of the Month: Elon Musk." New Republic, vol. 251, no. 3, Mar. 2020, p. 5. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=buh&AN=141536506&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Wattles, Jennifer. "SpaceX launch: Four astronauts take off aboard Crew Dragon bound for ISS." CNN, 16 Nov. 2020, www.cnn.com/2020/11/15/tech/spacex-nasa-launch-crew-dragon/index.html.

[rosemaidenvixen]

Gruss vom Krampus

One night on patrol Jim experiences a case of mistaken identity.

Ao3

Jim vaulted the fence in a single leap and landed in a crouch in a snowbank, holding as still as he could. Sirens flared briefly before fading into the distance. He let out a sigh of relief, he should really be more careful when hunting down goblins in a suburb, but it looked like he was in the clear.

A soft whimper came from behind him.

Crap, spoke too soon.

Jim froze, the eclipse armor was good as a stealth suit, but only provided he didn’t start jumping around in it. That was pretty hard to miss. Holding the rest of his body perfectly still, Jim slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound.

Two-- no three, kids were huddled against the side of the house, practically shaking in their snow boots, eyes wide with fear.

Jim’s heart sank in a way that had become far too familiar in the past six months. There were obvious cosmetic differences between humans and trolls, and to the unfamiliar the latter could appear...intimidating, and the black-red glow of the eclipse armor didn’t help. 

He tried to swallow the unexpected tightness in his throat. These were just kids, the biggest one of them couldn’t be more than eight years old, and Jim was a seven foot tall, horned intruder in their backyard. There was no reason for him to be upset, it was perfectly natural for them to--

“....please don’t take us away Mr. Krampus…”

Wait, what?

Careful to stay in a crouched position, not wanting to frighten them any more than he already had. Jim turned to face them.

“Hi there,” he hoped his smile came off as friendly rather than bearing his fangs “What was that you just called me?”

They were silent for a few beats before a girl with dark curly hair took a step forward, it looked like she was the oldest of the bunch “You’re Krampus...aren’t you?”

Krampus? What was-- oh yeah, Krampus was the Christmas demon. He’d heard about that before, some kind of reverse Santa, punishing bad kids instead of rewarding good ones. 

Jim let out a sigh of relief. An easy mistake for a kid to make, with the horns and the black armor and all, at least the secret world of trolls wasn’t exposed.

He could work with this.

“Yep,” he sat back on a snow drift, stretching his legs out in front of him “I’m Krampus,”

The kids let out a chorus of wails, whimpering as they pressed themselves even harder against the wall of the house. 

Jim blinked. Oh, that’s right, Krampus punished kids...woops.

“But I’m not here to punish you guys!” he said hurriedly.

“You’re-- you’re not?” one boy sniffled.

“Nope, I’m just in the neighborhood, taking care of some...other naughty people, not any of you,”

“But…” the littlest one peeked past the others, a girl of about four or five, massive afro crushed under her glittery, pink hat “I ate the cookies that were for my grandma,”

“I lied to my mom,”

“I cheated on a test at school,”

“I took my best friend’s necklace without asking,”

Jim sat hunched in the snow while the elementary age group rattled off their ‘sins’ to him. How was he going to fix this? He really wished he was better with kids. 

What would Strickler say to them? Scratch that, what would his mom say?

“Ok...look,” he twisted his hands together “You know why doing those things was bad, right?”

They nodded.

“And,” he gestured toward the afro headed girl that had first confessed “You said sorry to your grandma right?”

She nodded “Yeah, and I helped make more cookies for her,”

Jim looked back towards the other two “And you all said sorry and tried to fix things to, right?”

They all nodded. 

“That’s what’s important, everyone makes mistakes and does bad things, but it’s ok as long as you apologize, help fix things, and try to do better next time,”

The kids whispered among themselves, slowly detaching from the brick wall of the house. 

“So, wait…” the bespeckled boy spoke up “If you don’t punish people for doing that stuff, what do you punish them for?”

Jim’s face went blank, he had not thought that far ahead into his ‘Krampus’ persona.

“You see I….” one of his feet tapped nervously against the ground “Stop people that are naughty...from....hurting other people,”

Seeing as how the kids weren’t screaming, Jim kept going “And if someone’s doing things that would hurt people and doesn’t stop or say sorry or try to fix things, that’s when I come in to stop them,”

Pink hat afro girl scurried up to him, eyes wide and curious “Like who?”

“Well...uh…” Jim struggled to come up with something to tell them, improv was not his strong suit “There was once this really bad guy named Gunmar...”

That was how Jim found himself retelling a heavily edited version of the battle of eternal night to three kids while sitting in a snowbank at nine o clock at night. By the end the kids, whose names he learned were Marisol, Liam, and Veronica, were practically sitting on top of him, Veronica’s pink hat dangling from one of his horns. 

“...and so with my friends helping me we were able to lock Morgana up in Shadow jail,”

“Whoa…” Liam whispered, eyes wide with awe, expressions mirrored by Marisol and Veronica.

“Yep,” Jim said while getting up to his feet “That’s how it happened,” he handed the sparkly pink hat back to Veronica, who wasted no time in shoving her afro into it.

Jim was glad he’d been able to calm them down, but now that he’d thought about it for a while, something was bugging him.

“So what are you guys all doing outside so late at night?”

Marisol sheepishly pointed at a large, but crumbly looking mound of snow “We were trying to build a wall so we could keep you out,” she flushed and looked down at her snow boots “Sorry,”

All Jim could do was stare at the sad looking pile of snow that couldn’t even stop a racoon, much less a troll like him. Maybe things had changed since he was a little kid, but as far as Jim remembered, building snow walls to keep out demons was not a typical holiday activity. 

“Why were you doing that?”

“Emily told us it would work,”

Jim raised an eyebrow at that “Emily?”

“Our babysitter,” Liam held out a small box “She told us about you and showed us the movie,”

Curious, Jim reached out and plucked up the offered box. It was a DVD case titled ‘A Christmas Horror Story’ showing a staff wielding Santa Claus facing off against a tall chain-swinging, horned figure that-- ok the movie actually looked pretty cool, he was definitely going to have to show it to Toby later. But it was rated R, these kids were way too young for that. 

“So Emily, your babysitter, showed you guys this movie and then told you to go outside and build a snow wall to keep Kr-- me out?”

The trio nodded.

Jim frowned “No one’s going to come attack you guys, not me or anyone else, Emily shouldn’t have told you that, and it was really...not nice of her to scare you like this,”

Marisol’s eyes widened “Are you going to...punish her?”

“No,” Jim stepped around the side of the house, looking for the breaker box “I’m just going to have a talk with her,”

*

“Great job getting rid of the rugrats,”

Emily giggled and plopped down on the couch next to Jacob. Scaring the twerps with that movie and sending them outside to build a wall to keep ‘Krampus’ out was the best idea she’d ever had. She’d barely been able to keep from laughing the whole time. Now they were free to make out on the couch while the munchkins were out digging the snow for the rest of the night.

Leaning back, she cuddled even closer to Jacob “So where does your mom think you are?”

He smirked and wrapped an arm around her “In the dorms working on my thesis, that should get me out of any holiday dinners this year,”

Emily grinned “Perfect,” she licked her lips and moved in for a kiss, Jacob puckered up and prepared to meet her.

Suddenly all the lights shut off, plunging the room into darkness and causing them to freeze in their pre kiss. 

“Is this a blackout?” Jacob said while propping them both up into a sitting position.

A quick glance out the window revealed that the sparkling red and green Christmas lights of the houses on either side of them were still lit.

“I don’t think so, none of the other houses are dark,”

Squirming uncomfortably, Emily pushed herself up off the couch “C’mon, there should be some flashlights in the kitchen,”

Jacob stood and followed her as she headed over to the next room. She reached out and was about to turn the knob when she heard a loud clang coming from within. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She whipped back towards Jacob “Did you hear that?”

His wide eyes and pale face told her that he most certainly had. Not saying anything, Jacob slowly reached into the duffle bag behind the couch and pulled out two baseball bats, wood and aluminum. He gripped the wooden one firmly and soundlessly passed the aluminum one to her. 

Emily gave him a quick nod of gratitude before gently grasping the knob and easing the door open. 

“Marisol? Liam? That you in there?”

No reply.

Pulse pounding in her ears, Emily slowly stepped into the kitchen, Jacob on her heels, scanning the room for axe wielding maniacs. 

The room appeared empty, save for the table and chairs swathed in shadows.

No serial killers in sight.

Emily was about to sigh in relief when the door slammed shut behind them. Causing them both to jump and let out a shriek.

“I hear you’ve been talking about me,” a gravelly voice snarled.

An enormous figure stood by the door. It was too dark to see him clearly, but glowing red lines running down his arms and legs pulsed through the shadows and let them know exactly how massive he was. Emily squinted, what was wrong with his he--

“You want to know what’s really naughty?” the figure stalked towards them, moving slowly but with deliberate purpose “Purposefully scaring kids that you’re supposed to be taking care of,” 

Emily felt the blood drain from her face as the figure came into view. He looked different than in the movie and the pictures she’d seen online, but there was no mistaking those horns. 

Krampus. 

The real Krampus.

Instinct took over and she swung the bat at his temple with all her might. 

He caught the bat in his hand without so much as flinching.

A shudder coursed through her as Emily started trembling all over. From the corner of her eye she could see Jacob doing much of the same.

Oh god, she told the kids about Krampus just to scare them and now the real Krampus was here and she and Jacob were going to die here like dumb teenagers in a bad slasher film and--

Krampus snorted and released the bat. It slipped from Emily’s limp grip and fell to the floor with a metallic clang.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time, but if you pull something like this again,” he let out a low growl “I won’t be as understanding. Got it?”

Somehow Emily still had enough of her faculties left intact to nod slowly.  

“Good,” Krampus gave them a smile that would have been threatening enough even without exposing his sharp teeth “You all enjoy the rest of your night,”

With that Krampus turned and left, shutting the kitchen door behind him. Emily and Jacob didn’t move an inch the entire time, fear rooting them in place. After a few minutes the lights flicked back on.

Less than ten seconds later Jacob dropped his bat and started bawling. Emily sank to the floor, feeling as hot and limp as an overcooked noodle. The raw terror slowly draining away formed its own kind of numbness, like warm, lumpy oatmeal slogging its way through her veins.

She was faintly aware of Jacob fumbling for his phone while scampering in the direction of the front door.

He punched at the screen with his thumbs and raised it to his ear just before heading out the door “H-- Hello, Mom? I-- I-- I’m sorry, I’m not working on my thesis-- I lied...” 

His words trailed off in a sob as the door shut behind him, leaving Emily alone in the house. Kneeling on the kitchen floor, staring at the four, perfect finger shaped dents in the aluminum bat.

*

Jim flipped the master switch of the breaker box back into place, brightening the dark house.

It looked like things were pretty well taken care of here. But he really had to get back and regroup with the others.

He turned towards the three kids “So remember guys, anytime you think someone is trying to scare you with a story like that, tell your parents. They’ll know for sure if it’s true or not,”

Jim paused, feeling like he should add onto that “And if you see anymore...magic...creatures like me, be careful, not all of us are nice, ok?”

“Uh huh,” 

“Yep,”

“Yes,”

“Good,” he headed back towards the fence “I need to take off now so--”

He was caught off guard by Veronica running up to him and hugging him around the legs. Effectively holding him hostage despite their vast differences in size and strength “Thanks for visiting Mr. Krampus,”

Touched and more than a little flustered, Jim attempted to return the gesture by giving her a soft pat on the back “Happy to help, you guys take care now,”

Veronica released his legs, allowing Jim to jump to the top of the fence, swinging a leg over the top, getting ready to leave.

Marisol, Liam, and Veronica waved goodbye from the snow filled backyard.

“Bye, Merry Christmas,” Marisol shouted out to him, parroted by Liam and Veronica seconds later.

“Merry Christmas,” Jim called back with a wave, with that he turned and leapt off the fence, taking off into the dark, snowy night.

A/N: A Christmas Horror story is a real movie and one I highly recommend, but definitely not for kids.

The scene at the end was based on what happened to me when I helped out with the Christmas party in my mom's kindergarten class. I spent the whole time decorating cookies with them and as I was about to leave, one of the kids ran up and hugged me. It definitely caught me off guard, but I was pretty touched.

[alltimebestbooks]

Top 10 Books Must Read Today Generation

1. The Rudest Book Ever by Shwetabh Gangwar

Shwetabh Gangwar is a professional problem-solver—and he’s ace at it. For the past five years, people from all over the world have contacted him with their troubles and he’s worked these out for them.

In the process, he has picked up on a simple pattern: people need a set of principles and perspectives to protect them from all the unnecessary bullshit they go through. Codes to live by, essentially.

But be warned: Gangwar has no desire to spare your feelings. What you will find in this straight-forward, straight-talking, no-craps-given guide, is:

How to deal with rejections of all kinds

How to change your perceptions of people so you don’t end up screwed

Why a society that sees people as ‘good and bad’ is dumb

How the search for happiness screws us over

How seeking approval and acceptance kills our individuality

The truth about social media influencers

Why we should be taught ‘how to think’, instead of ‘what to think’

Laying out clear principles, YouTube megastar Gangwar shows you how to deal with the shit that has happened to you, is happening to you and will happen to you.

A refreshing, easy-to-read, and relatable guide, The Rudest Book Ever will make you rethink everything you’ve been taught.`

2. Do It Today: Overcome Procrastination, Improve Productivity, and Achieve More Meaningful Things

Are you also tired of putting off your dreams until “tomorrow?” Guess what! Tomorrow never comes. Am I right?

I’ve procrastinated and putt off my desire to write a book for a decade. I always came up with excuses like, “it’s not the right time.” Or, “I need to do more research.”

But in 2015 I got tired of this endless procrastination, and finally took action. Six months later, my first book was published.

Look, we all have limited time on our hands. And we’re getting closer to death every single minute. That shouldn’t scare. That should motivate you!

Time is limited, that’s why we must do the things we want: Today.

In this “best of” collection, I’ve handpicked 30 of my best articles that help you to overcome procrastination, improve your productivity, and achieve all the things you always wanted.

Plus, I’ve written an extensive introduction about my life and work philosophy.

And I’ve made many improvements and edits to the articles. So the content of this book is different from the articles on my site.

In Do It Today, you’ll learn:

1.Why we procrastinate and how we can overcome it

2.How to increase your productivity without being stressful

3.How to achieve more meaningful things in your life so you can enjoy it more

Are you ready to start reading this book?

If so: Do it today—not tomorrow.

3. The Lean Startup: How Constant Innovation Creates Radically Successful Businesses

The Lean Startup is a new approach to business that's being adopted around the world. It is changing the way companies are built and new products are launched.

The Lean Startup is about learning what your customers really want. It's about testing your vision continuously, adapting and adjusting before it's too late. Now is the time to think Lean.

4. Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World

One of the most valuable skills in our economy is becoming increasingly rare. If you master this skill, you'll achieve extraordinary results.

Deep Work is an indispensable guide to anyone seeking focused success in a distracted world.

'Deep work' is the ability to focus without distraction on a cognitively demanding task. Coined by author and professor Cal Newport on his popular blog Study Hacks, deep work will make you better at what you do, let you achieve more in less time and provide the sense of true fulfilment that comes from the mastery of a skill. In short, deep work is like a superpower in our increasingly competitive economy.

And yet most people, whether knowledge workers in noisy open-plan offices or creatives struggling to sharpen their vision, have lost the ability to go deep - spending their days instead in a frantic blur of email and social media, not even realising there's a better way.

A mix of cultural criticism and actionable advice, DEEP WORK takes the reader on a journey through memorable stories -- from Carl Jung building a stone tower in the woods to focus his mind, to a social media pioneer buying a round-trip business class ticket to Tokyo to write a book free from distraction in the air -- and surprising suggestions, such as the claim that most serious professionals should quit social media and that you should practice being bored.

Put simply: developing and cultivating a deep work practice is one of the best decisions you can make in an increasingly distracted world and this book will point the way.

5. Understanding Millennials: A guide to working with todays generation

Have you often wondered, "What's wrong with this younger generation?" Or, "Why are these younger workers so lazy?" How about this one, "How do I get these Millennials to work harder?" If you still think that you can change the Millennials to make them fit into your business model, you, my friend, are wrong. We have to think on a bigger scale, and answer the question "How can we use this generation's strengths to make our business better?" In this minibook instead of trying to find ways to get this generation to stop acting the way they do, we figure out ways to inspire them to work harder no matter how they act. The tips and tricks in this book not only work for Millennials but can be used to inspire others in your employ as well. Put these ideas and beliefs into practice quickly and thoroughly, and watch your business grow not just fiscally but in emotional bonds as well. Your staff won't just respect you, they will follow you! The best way to read the book is with your current business trends and office staff in mind.

6. Sita: Warrior of Mithila

Immerse yourself in book 2 of the Ram Chandra series, based on the Ramayana, the story of Lady Sita, written by the multi-million bestselling Indian Author Amish; the author who has transformed Indian Fiction with his unique combination of mystery, mythology, religious symbolism and philosophy. In this book, you will follow Lady Sita's journey from an Adopted Child to the Prime Minister to finding her true calling. You will find all the familiar characters you have heard of, like Lord Ram and Lord Lakshman and see more of Lord Hanuman and many others from Mithila. You will also start discovering the true purpose of the Vayuputras and Malayaputras and their conflicting ideologies that leads to plot twists, politics and intrigue as they try to influence outcomes from behind the scenes.

She is the warrior we need. The Goddess we await.

She will defend Dharma. She will protect us.

India, 3400 BCE.

India is beset with divisions, resentment and poverty. The people hate their rulers. They despise their corrupt and selfish elite. Chaos is just one spark away. Outsiders exploit these divisions. Raavan, the demon king of Lanka, grows increasingly powerful, sinking his fangs deeper into the hapless Sapt Sindhu.

Two powerful tribes, the protectors of the divine land of India, decide that enough is enough. A saviour is needed. They begin their search.

An abandoned baby is found in a field. Protected by a vulture from a pack of murderous wolves. She is adopted by the ruler of Mithila, a powerless kingdom, ignored by all. Nobody believes this child will amount to much. But they are wrong.

For she is no ordinary girl. She is Sita.

Continue the epic journey with Amish’s latest: A thrilling adventure that chronicles the rise of an adopted child, who became the prime minister. And then, a Goddess.

This is the second book in the Ram Chandra Series. A sequel that takes you back. Back before the beginning.

7. The 5 AM Club: Own Your Morning, Elevate Your Life

Part manifesto for mastery, part playbook for genius-grade productivity and part companion for a life lived beautifully, the 5 am club is a work that will transform your life. Forever.

Legendary leadership and elite performance expert Robin Sharma introduced The 5 AM Club concept over twenty years ago, based on a revolutionary morning routine that has helped his clients maximize their productivity, activate their best health and bulletproof their serenity in this age of overwhelming complexity.

Now, in this life-changing book, handcrafted by the author over a rigorous four year period, you will discover the early-rising habit that has helped so many accomplish epic results while upgrading their happiness, helpfulness and feelings of aliveness.

Through an enchanting—and often amusing—story about two struggling strangers who meet an eccentric tycoon who becomes their secret mentor, The 5 AM Club will walk you through:

How great geniuses, business titans and the world’s wisest people start their mornings to produce astonishing achievements

A little-known formula you can use instantly to wake up early feeling inspired, focused and flooded with a fiery drive to get the most out of each day

A step-by-step method to protect the quietest hours of daybreak so you have time for exercise, self-renewal and personal growth

A neuroscience-based practice proven to help make it easy to rise while most people are sleeping, giving you precious time for yourself to think, express your creativity and begin the day peacefully instead of being rushed

“Insider-only” tactics to defend your gifts, talents and dreams against digital distraction and trivial diversions so you enjoy fortune, influence and a magnificent impact on the world

8. Mahatma Gandhi Autobiography: The Story Of My Experiments With Truth

This unusual autobiography “The Story of My Experiments with Truth”, is a window to the workings of Mahatma Gandhi’s mind – a window to the emotions of his heart – a window to understanding what drove this seemingly ordinary man to the heights of being the father of a nation – India. Starting with his days as a boy, Gandhi takes one through his trials and turmoils and situations that moulded his philosophy of life – going through child marriage, his studies in England, practicing Law in South Africa – and his Satyagraha there – to the early beginnings of the Independence movement in India. He did not aim to write an autobiography but rather share the experience of his various experiments with truth to arrive at what he perceived as Absolute Truth – the ideal of his struggle against racism, violence and colonialism.

9. How to Enjoy Your Life and Your Job

If you are not satisfied with your job and often struggle to achieve a work-life balance, you’ve picked the right book! “Count your blessings—not your troubles!” From ways to finding peace and happiness to insights on how to deal with people and make them like you at once, this book introduces good working habits and includes valuable advice on how to drive away the fatigue-producing boredom. With suggestions on how to relax and churn out the most of oneself and bring a sense of fulfilment, harmony and purpose, Dale Carnegie’s classic bestseller, How to Enjoy your Life and your Job, continues to help people reassess their approach to life, people and job and also helps them discover their strengths and talents.

10. Yoga and Stress Management

Yoga & stress management is a therapeutic guide for those dealing with mental and physical stress, as well as a reference book for healthy living. Although urban work culture has greatly improved the individual economic status, it has grossly diminished br Nature’s endowments. While modern psychology effectively helps in creating an awareness of what causes this, the Yoga philosophy is capable of changing one’s overall attitude towards life. This book combines both and provides valuable guidelines, tips, and techniques. Yoga offers the complete toolkit to deal with psychological and psycho-somatic disorders that are globally on the rise. With yogic techniques one can understand the nature of human consciousness and attain its higher stages. Using yogic practices like meditation and Pranayama, one can delve deep within and connect the body and mind to the inner self. By enhancing the latent energy in man, yoga offers a holistic solution to erase conflicts, suppression, and sensitivity.

[gerryconway]

Superhero Comic Book Publishing: Time to Change

So I've been reading rumors (and had a recent conversation with a top exec at one of the Big Two) about the potential end of Marvel and DC as publishers of original comics, and I Have Thoughts.

These thoughts are the product of fifty years experience working in and around the superhero comic book business, writing and editing for both Marvel and DC. I'm no business expert. I'm not a student of publishing. I can't analyze a spreadsheet or write a business plan. I'm not an MBA. The closest I've come to owning and running a company was helping my second wife develop her small business (though I believe some of the lessons we learned about the perils of expanding a business are relevant here).

No, what I'm about to discuss isn't the result of a deep understanding of big business, market share growth, the realities of corporate politics, or any of the realpolitik aspects of modern day publishing as understood by the people who've brought both companies to this moment of near collapse.

I'm just a long-time observer who's worked in the superhero field almost since its modern inception in the 1960s.

Perspective: when I started writing comics professionally, Marvel was publishing about 12 titles a month, and DC (then National Periodical Publications) was publishing about 30. Comics cost 15 cents and offered between 20 and 25 pages of story. (I'm not going to work with exact numbers because for my purposes here exact numbers aren't relevant; like I said, I'm no MBA, and this is based on personal observation, memory, and experience. If I get a precise number wrong, sue me, it doesn't matter.)

Background: How the 1960s and 1970s got the business to where it is today, and how that era reveals possible ways out of the current crisis.

It was during the 1960s, a period of modest output (compared to today), that almost ALL of the roots of modern superhero comics mythology were created. Modern incarnations of The Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Aquaman and Mera, Wonder Woman, the Teen Titans, the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Black Panther, X-Men, Daredevil, Captain Marvel, Black Widow, Thor, Captain America, Iron Man--

The list of characters and storylines and mythology created in the 1960s (with overlap from the 50s and into the early 70s) is just flabbergasting-- especially when you consider the size of the companies and the number of creators who accomplished it.

When I started writing for DC Comics in 1968, their offices consisted of half a floor in a modest office building on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. Eight editors (or maybe seven, I'm not sure) and one editorial assistant worked under one editorial director and one publisher, with a production department headed by one production manager, one assistant manager who doubled as a colorist, one proof reader, and two or three production assistants, and a receptionist. Each editor was responsible for five or six books and only one editor had enough pull to have an assistant. (Mort Weisinger, who edited the highest selling range of books, had Nelson Birdwell "helping" him with the Superman line-- in fact, Nelson did all the hard editorial work while Mort snarled at people.) Four of the editors shared a single office; two others shared an office; and the two most "important" editors had an office each. That's how I remember it-- I may be off on the specifics but the general picture is accurate. This was how the company that controlled the largest market share of the comic book publishing world, possibly more than seventy percent of sales, looked in 1967-68.

Marvel Comics was an even more bare bones operation. With most of its business operations handled by Magazine Management, Martin Goodman's main publishing operation, Marvel Comics itself in 1968 operated out of a small office on Madison Avenue barely the size of a large modern conference room. The company had one editor and one assistant editor, one production manager, one assistant production manager, a part-time art director, a couple of production assistants, and a receptionist. The receptionist had a cubicle; the production staff shared a "bullpen"; the assistant editor and production manager split an office that wasn't really an office, more of an alcove; and the editor (Stan) had a private office not much larger than an average editor's today. This was the company that was revolutionizing storytelling in modern comics-- and while its individual titles were selling extremely well, its market share, due to an onerous distribution deal with its chief competitor, National Periodical Publications, was much less than it might have been.

That's how the superhero comic book publishing business looked in 1967-68. Prosperous but culturally insignificant (at least, not obviously significant). A pair of modest small enterprises, family owned and operated (NPP was bought by Kinney in 1967; Goodman retained ownership of Marvel until 1968), with rigidly controlled costs and a decent, relatively predictable profit margin.

Five years later, in the early 1970s, EVERYTHING had changed. Both companies were now controlled by larger businesses, and both were under pressure to expand market share and increase profits. Simultaneously comic book readership was dropping as the baby boomer audience aged out. The superhero comic book business was in a crisis-- and each company responded in hysterical counter-productive ways. Marvel, no longer hampered by its distribution deal with its competitor, worked to expand its market share with an explosion of new titles in multiple genres-- without proportionately expanding its editorial support structure and production staff. DC Comics experimented with new titles and new formats, without an overall publishing strategy or company-wide creative approach, continuing its tradition of independent editorial fiefdoms.

For most of the 1970s, in other words, both companies, Marvel and DC, faced creative and economic chaos. That chaos produced memorable and influential work-- Kirby's Fourth World was born, I killed Gwen Stacy, the X-Men were reborn under Chris Claremont, Jim Starlin created Thanos and killed the original Captain Marvel, Batman began getting dark-- but the companies themselves were flailing. Management at both Marvel and DC were clueless how to proceed. (As someone who held editorial positions at both companies in the 1970s I can attest top executives at DC and Marvel were way out of their depth.)

No one working in comics in the early to mid 1970s had any realistic expectation the business would even exist by the end of the decade-- news stand sales were that bad and getting worse every year. Cost cutting was rampant. Marvel reduced page count to 18 pages (and tried to hide it by paying writers and artists for 1 page that was printed as a "double page spread"). DC maintained a higher page count while adding reprint pages in order to increase the price. Short term fixes for a devastating long term crisis.

Two events saved superhero comics from disappearing in the late 1970s, and each produced effects that fundamentally altered the economics and creative direction of the business up to the present day.

The first event was the creation of the Direct Sale Market by entrepreneur Phil Seuling in 1973. There are many articles available describing how the direct market expanded through the 70s and 80s, so I won't repeat the details here, but in a nutshell, the direct market offered comic book publishers a way to guarantee the profit on individual titles compared to newstand sales. Comics sold through newstand distribution were returnable; sales to the direct market were not. Returnability meant most of a title's print run was wasted. (Typically in that era a publisher would print, say, 200,000 copies of a title to sell 70,000.) In addition, the direct market offered predictability-- eventually publishers would learn in advance how well a title might do because of pre-orders. These positives, of course, have a downside, but we'll get to that later. By the late 1970s and into the 1980s, the direct market for comics was viewed by almost everyone in the business as a god send that saved a dying business.

The second event that saved superhero comics was the arrival in 1978 of the first mainstream superhero blockbuster movie-- Superman. That movie and its sequels, followed by Tim Burton's Batman in 1989, fueled the growth of "serious" superhero mythology in mainstream pop culture (as opposed to the kid-friendly Superman series of the 1950s and the camp comedy of 1966's Batman TV show). Those movies (and other baby boomer inspired genre entries into mainstream culture like Star Wars and Indiana Jones) began the gradual colonization of pop culture by superhero mythology which exploded into fruition in the 2000s. In the 1970s, however, the main effect Superman the Movie (and later, the Batman film) had on comics was to temporarily increase sales and thus allow both companies to avoid dealing with longer-term creative and economic questions about the fundamental viability of the industry's business model.

The combination of both events, the development of the direct market and the arrival of the blockbuster superhero film, saved the comic book business as such in the 1970s-- but at the same time created and reinforced conflicting tendencies that today have produced a potentially fatal contradiction in how super hero comic book publishers approach their business.

On the one hand, the growth of the direct sale market into the de facto sole distribution point for superhero comics (the recent Walmart experiment and the digital comic market notwithstanding) has resulted in an incestuous and shrinking niche market for the sale of physical comic books. As recent reporting makes clear, this is unsustainable as a business model. Both Marvel and DC have resorted to increasingly desperate and counterproductive marketing ploys to maintain market share and profitability in a decreasing pool of readers-- a ridiculous explosion of variant covers, "special" events, crossovers, mini-series, extortionately-priced first issues, reboots and rebirths and renumberings, spin-offs and multiple versions of the same superhero teams, more events, more crossovers, more tie-ins. What all of these efforts have in common (despite some high-quality creative work on individual titles) is a complete absense of long-term strategic thinking in either the creative or business sense. What's the plan here? How is any of this short term market share maneuvering going to build and sustain a stable long-term readership? And, in particular, how does it fit with the other, even more significant development in the superhero comic book business-- the ascendency of superhero mythology in pop culture?

That second fact-- the mainstreaming of superhero mythology, begun by the Superman movie in 1978-- is the most significant development in the modern history of the comic book medium, and NEITHER company has developed an effective strategy to address it in their creative approach or their business model. The primary reason they haven't, I believe, is rooted in the first of the two events that saved comics in the 1970s, and is at the core of the contradiction that's crippling the superhero comic book business today-- the direct market and its lock on the distribution of comic books.

On the one hand, you have superhero mythology in mainstream media-- a mass market appealing to millions upon millions of consumers world wide, a potential audience beyond anything imagined by comic book creators half a century ago in our most weed-enhanced fantasies. And on the other hand, you have superhero publishing in the direct market-- a shrinking niche market numbering in at most a hundred thousand, dominated by a core readership of a few thousand, whose financial support is strained to the breaking point and beyond by ruthless and extortionate marketing of low-value-added gimmick publications that thwart long term emotional investment.

In a rational universe, both companies would be examining their core business strategy to stake a claim in the mainstream market-- a claim they have a moral, creative and financial imperative to demand as the originators of the mythology being celebrated. If ever there was a moment for the Big Two comic book publishers to think outside the traditional box, this is it. Instead, they are consumed with chasing the diminishing returns of the direct market-- creating properties to exploit a readership exhausted by the financial and emotional demands of predatory publishing techniques designed to milk as much profit from a shrinking audience as possible. This isn't only cynical, it's stupid and counterproductive-- not to mention ultimately an expression of creative bankruptcy.

So, having analyzed the problem from my own admittedly limited viewpoint-- a viewpoint privileged, somewhat, by fifty years of experience-- do I have any solutions to propose?

Yes, I do.

The superhero comic book business is in a death spiral, and everyone in the business seems to know it. A crisis as serious as this cannot be addressed by fixes at the margins. We need a fundamental break with the business practices that have brought the companies to this point. A radical solution to a radical crisis.

Both Marvel and DC need to redefine themselves as creative entities. What is their CORE purpose? What is their CORE contribution to the larger enterprise of creating superhero mythology for mainstream media?

Is their core purpose publishing paper pamphlets for sale to a small readership of tens of thousands? Or is their core contribution creating stories and characters in comic book format that can be transformed into other forms of media?

If it's the first, their business is a dead end, and nothing they do will extend its existence past the next few years. The direct sale market is dying. There's no time to develop other methods of distribution to profitably replace it. The publishers have tried expanding into bookstores, which, like the comic book stores, are dying. They've tried expanding into big box stores like Walmart, but that experiment seems to have failed. They've sought sales in digital format, but judging by reports of my own sales in that medium, it's not a panacea-- yet. Traditional comic book publishing for profit by the Big Two seems hopeless, by all the available evidence, at least as presently constituted. Maybe, if both companies scaled back overhead and production to 1967 levels-- Marvel producing 12 books a month with a small office and a skeleton staff, DC producing 30 with a slightly larger editorial footprint-- they might survive as pure publishing entities.

But survival shouldn't be a goal.

Instead, I suggest both Marvel and DC dramatically redefine themselves as creators of comic book content first-- and profitable publishers second, if at all.

One advantage both companies have as corporate subsidiaries that they never had as independent family businesses is something they need to embrace and promote to their corporate masters as a positive principle-- neither company needs to turn a profit, at least not in the short term, and not as publishers. Instead they should redefine themselves primarily, in the modern lexicon, as IP creators. Intellectual Property is one of the most important drivers of modern corporate media success-- if not the most crucial component. Comic book publishers are easily the most cost effective creators of IP in modern media. For a media corporation to require profitability of an IP generator like a comic book publisher, when even the highest levels of publishing profitability pale beside the far greater value of the IP itself, isn't just short-sighted, it's counterproductive and self defeating.

Marvel and DC should see themselves primarily, if not solely, as IP generators, and sell themselves to Disney and Warnermedia as such. Publishing should be the tail of the dog; the dog is creation.

If the companies do follow this path, they'll also need to radically rethink their approach to publishing-- ironically, with potential benefit both to themselves as profitable enterprises and to their customers in the direct market.

For example, if your goal as a company is no longer to increase or maintain market share in the direct market, but instead to generate exciting and long-term potential IP, you don't need predatory publishing practices like variant covers, or twice-yearly "events," or extortionate pricing, or required pre-orders. You could even begin to accept returns, lightening the financial pressures on dealers and encouraging them to risk new series. You could reduce the number of unnecessary spin-offs and reboots. You could devote energy to nurturing creatives and long-term storylines.

At one point in the mid 1970s I had a dust up with Marvel's production chief, the late John Verpoorten. I was complaining that a revision to the production schedule would negatively affect the aesthetic quality of a book I was writing and how could he justify that (I was young, naive and arrogant). John looked at me and growled, "From an aesthetic point of view we can maybe justify ten of these books." I was gobsmacked and obviously never forgot his point.

Redefining their core mission as IP generators would allow both Marvel and DC to address John's point positively: is there an aesthetic reason to publish this story? Does it say something new and valuable about our characters, or is it just an effort to increase market share? Does it add to the mythology, or diminish it? Is it good?

Publishing sales success has rarely been a reliable predictor of a superhero story's viability in other media. Venom is a popular comic book character with mixed success in sales-- but a worldwide hit as a movie antihero. The JLA Detroit era heroes ended ignominiously in a market driven by direct sales, but individually have provided useful source material for CW TV shows. The Green Arrow was never a sales leader in comics. Before the Batman movies, Batman was a mid-level but important DC comic. Deadpool was a popular second string character but again never a sales leader before Ryan Reynolds put on the mask.

There's a way forward for both the superhero publishers and the direct market-- but not if the publishers continue to define themselves first as publishers. That day is past. The publishers will have to be bold if they're going to thrive in the post-direct market world. The first step is for them to decide what they do best. In my view, what they do best is create comic book stories. Those stories transcend the traditional sales platform that produced them. It's time for the bird to leave its nest.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Holding On (Why is everything so heavy?)

Summary: The world keeps turning after Tony Stark’s untimely death. Peter is stuck in place.

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Finished just in time to post before going to see Far From Home! I just really hope I can get in tonight or I won’t be able to until Friday. If there’s anything weird, it’s because I don’t usually write in present tense, and this has only been very lightly edited because I started it in the aftermath of Endgame and finished it on a whim yesterday, soooo.....

Content warnings: Grief and unhealthy coping in the way of non-graphic self-harm and one (brief) instance of suicidal ideation (blink and you might miss it).

=================================================

The first time he sees it not even a month has passed, and it catches him completely off-guard, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He’s walking casually down the street with Ned, desperately searching for some sense of normal, and it catches in the corner of his vision, stopping him dead in his path.

“Oh,” Ned breathes when he picks up what Peter is staring at. “You didn’t know.”

Across the street, at the corner of the park, is a memorial. Candles half burned, art work, photos, newspaper clippings. All of it of Iron Man.

Peter feels as though the rug has been pulled from under his feet yet again. He thought he was past this, but his eyes are burning, and he can’t stop staring, and the hurt surfaces anew. He only manages one word. “Why?”

Ned swallows, takes a deep breath, speaks the hard truth: “You’re not the only one hurting. He was their hero, too. This is how they cope.”

He wishes it wasn’t.

===========================================

The second time he spots one, he’s out on patrol for the first time since then.

The memorial is a spray painted mural taking up a good chunk of the side of a brick building, and he wonders who in the world managed to make it. He sits and stares -- for a few minutes, a few hours, who knows -- before shooting a web towards a building in the opposite direction. Queens is quiet tonight; he heads home early.

He slips in through his bedroom window even though he doesn’t need to anymore, and it’s only when the mask comes off that the grief hits him full-force once again. Two months have passed already, and despite that he knows grief has no timeline, he thinks he should definitely be passed the tears he can feel pressing and the tightness caving his chest in.

He doesn’t realize he’s not breathing until suddenly he’s sitting on the floor (how did he get there?) and May is crouched in front of him (when did she come in?), telling him to “breathe, baby; breathe. Everything’s okay. Just breathe.”

He does eventually, but he wonders if he really wants to.

===========================================

The third time one shows up, he’s getting dinner with May at their favorite Thai place.

It’s the smallest one he’s seen, sitting innocently in one corner towards the back. More candles, more photos, placed under a sign, the text in Thai. (He doesn’t know what it says, but he can guess.)

He says he’s not hungry anymore, and when May sees it too, she lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Peter.”

“I can’t help it. It’s not like I chose to lose my appetite just now.”

She doesn’t understand, he knows. He was there, and she wasn’t, and he can’t just move on like the rest of the world has.

Or, rather, maybe he could if he tried, but he’s tired. He can’t find it in himself to want to.

He knows she wouldn’t understand that either, so he forces down the grief and the guilt, and when their food arrives, he eats. When they finish, May pays the bill, and they leave, and still he shoves it all down. Maybe if he stuffs it far enough back -- sticks it in all in a box and buries it, he can at least pretend to be normal for awhile.

He decides that night that maybe numb isn’t such a bad thing to feel.

============================================

The fourth one is, even after four months, new. It would seem that the people of Queens haven’t given themselves enough even yet.

This time, he feels nothing.

It’s just another mural on just another brick building.

The night is quiet again, and he swings home from patrol early. May is out, and he thinks it’ll be nice to have the place to himself for a little while.

He slips in through his window, leaves his suit in a heap on the floor, and goes to hunt down something to eat in the kitchen as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. He can hear the distant whisper shoved in one corner of his mind escaping its box: “Kid, I know I’m practically made of money, but put that away properly, please. Take care of your stuff so it lasts, ya know?” He promptly ignores it, and puts on water for mac ‘n cheese. It’s way past dinnertime, but he doesn’t care.

Distantly, as he watches the pot, he wonders when he stopped caring about anything at all. The cork on his bottled-up emotions threatens to pop out, but he tamps down on it quickly. If he cares, that means he has to feel, and he doesn’t want to feel. If he doesn’t feel anything at all, then he doesn’t have to deal with the bad feelings either. It’s all or nothing, and nothing is decidedly better.

Some part of him knows that being numb isn’t really a good thing, but it is better than too much all at once. ...right? If only there was a way to feel the bad things in moderation, on his time, only when it was convenient.

But there isn’t.

He turns away from the stove and leans back against the counter. That’s when he sees it, and a whisper of a thought folds itself into his mind. He takes this idea, grabs it, holds onto it, mulls it over. There’s more than one way to feel pain, after all, and maybe if he can let himself a little of that, then he can feel a little of other things -- good things -- again, too.

No one would ever even know.

He takes two steps across the kitchen and opens the drawer where his aunt keeps the knives. He can’t control grief -- can only keep it safely bottled up -- but he can certainly control pain and when he feels it.

Numb isn’t so bad, but he decides measured pain is better.

==============================================

The fifth one he finds while avoiding Pepper.

He takes the long way home from school that day, knowing that she’s waiting at the apartment for him. Despite all other previous attempts on her part, he hasn’t seen her since the funeral. Seeing her and Morgan is just too much. But, apparently, his excuses to avoid her for months have finally run out, and he can’t avoid it any longer.

He can’t avoid it, but he can put it off as long as possible.

So he purposely stays on a stop past his, and plans to walk his way back as slowly as he feels he can get away with.

He turns the corner out of the station, and it’s right there in front of him. It’s not the largest he’s seen, or the most detailed, but it hits hard regardless. Painted on the side of the building is the Iron Man helmet and around it are painted the names of people he’s saved over the years. There’s a wooden sign standing next to it inviting people to add their name, to ask the shopkeeper for paint to do so, and he can’t help but wander over to read the names sprawled over the wall.

There are a lot, but he’s not surprised.

He wanders into the shop, and before he can think about it too much, he asks for paint. The man behind the counter smiles fondly if not a little sadly and hands him a can and a brush.

Finding a space as close to the helmet as possible, he squeezes in his name in careful white letters.  The man had saved him in more ways than one, and he knows he’ll have to bleed out the grief later, but he doesn’t regret doing this. It’s the only thing he can do.

He returns the paint and brush with a quiet ‘thank you’ and continues on his way home. He’ll be even later than he’d intended, and he knows May is getting worried when she calls.

“I’m two blocks away,” he replies, heart dropping into his stomach at the thought of facing Pepper. “I missed my stop.”  And he knows she’ll worry more at that because he has unintentionally missed his stop before, stuck in his own head, but he’ll deal with that later.

Pepper is sitting on the couch when he enters, and it’s only after he greets her that he realizes she didn’t bring Morgan. He’s grateful, though. Seeing her five months ago had been difficult enough, and he isn’t sure he would have been able to hold himself together right now if she was here.

He goes to drop his bag in his room, and he considers just not going back out. He does anyway.

May is nowhere in sight now, and he wonders why but sits across from Pepper without asking.

She doesn’t beat around the bush. “Tony had hoped that everything would work out, but he was also prepared for it not to.” She picks up a package wrapped in brown paper from beside her that he hadn’t noticed before. “I’m not sure what’s in here, but it’s got your name on it. I would have given it to you at the funeral, but… I didn’t find it until about a week after.” She stood and set it on the table in front of him. “I know this has been hard on you. You can open it when you’re ready.”

He picks it up, thanks her, and after she leaves, buries it in the bottom drawer of his desk.

That is one thing he knows for certain: he’ll never be ready to open it.

==============================================

The sixth he sees on purpose but not by choice.

It’s a Saturday, barely passed noon, when Happy shows up at the door. ‘Surprised’ didn’t even begin to cover it. At least Pepper has been texting him these last six months, but he had shared a pained look with Happy at the funeral and that had been it.

“Let’s go, kid. Put your shoes on. We’re taking a little trip.”

He’s too stunned to protest, and Happy doesn’t offer any more information during the silent car ride. He’s only more confused when they pull into a cemetery.

And then he sees it.

Tony may have been cremated, but that hadn’t stopped someone from erecting a monument here anyway.

Happy gets out of the car before he can protest, so he gets out, too. “Happy, why did you bring me here?”

Happy stops but doesn’t turn around to face him. “Because I’ve talked to Pepper, kid. And I’ve talked to your aunt, too. You’re avoiding this, and that’s not healthy. You’ve got to face this eventually.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

Happy spins around. “Yes, you are. You’re more or less ghosting Pepper and Morgan, and according to May, you won’t talk about Tony at all or go anywhere you know there’s a memorial erected. That’s not coping, Peter.”

Something inside him snaps. “So, what? I’m just supposed to pretend like everything’s okay? LIke I wasn’t there to hear his heart stop? Like it doesn’t kill me to talk about him? Because I can’t do that. I can’t!”

“No one is asking you to fake it,” Happy replies quietly. “But it’s okay to feel. It’s okay to be angry.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have the right to be.”

“But you still are.”

“Why did it have to be him, Happy? Why did this happen at all? He should have just...left it alone! I don’t know! But it shouldn’t have been him!”

“I know, kid; I know.” Happy sighs. “I keep asking myself that, too. But that was just Tony. Couldn’t leave anything alone.”

He’s crying now, but he doesn’t care. He’s angry and he can’t stuff if down any longer.

He’s so, so angry, and he doesn’t know what to do about it anymore.

=============================================

The seventh time, he’s desperate.

A week has passed since Happy showed up at his door, and he decides that maybe the man is right, and he remembers the package Pepper gave him.

He’s still not ready -- not really, because he never will be -- but he opens it anyway.

It’s a leather-bound book, and when he opens it, he finds his mentor’s handwriting scrawled across the unlined pages. The only thing on the first page is “This probably isn’t healthy, but I don’t care. Because maybe someday it’ll all be okay again.”

He turns the page and his eyes grow wide because he doesn’t believe it. He turns another and another and another, and he finds the same on every page. It’s a book of letters, photos tucked between the pages. To him. From Tony.

He wants to look away.

But he can’t.

So he keeps reading.

He reads about their small wedding ceremony and finding out about Morgan, and Tony even tells him about all the projects he was working on. But they all end the same way: “Wish you were here, buddy. I miss you. -- Tony.”

He’s about halfway through -- Morgan is two now -- when he breaks.

The letter starts out normal enough, but when he gets near the end, it shifts. The ink is smeared and the writing is even shakier than usual, but he still manages to make it out.

“Having Morgan has changed me a lot. Losing you did, too. There are a lot of things I regret in my life, and losing you? Yeah, that trumps them all, kid. I never said it before, so I’m saying it now. You mean a lot to me, and I love you, Pete. Happy birthday.”

He curls up in his place on the floor, and he sobs because it hurts, and he just wants it to stop, but he’s not sure it ever really will.

He cries until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are dry and burning and his chest aches, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

When he can finally catch his breath, he sits up from where he had tipped over to lying down and picks up the book again and turns the page because it hurts but he still has to know what else Tony wrote in those five years.

And he reads more about Morgan and Pepper and the lake house and Tony’s projects. And they all end the same way: “Love you, kid. Wish you were here. -- Tony.”

He reaches the last letter, and he’s terrified to read it.

He thought he didn’t have any tears left, but by the end, he is definitely crying again.

“You’re better than I could ever hope to be. You had a future, and it was stolen from you so easily. But now… If this works? You’re gonna go places, kid. I just know it.

“We have a chance to get everyone back again. I have a chance to get you back again. I don’t want to lose everything I have now, but Peter…

“I would give ANYTHING to get you back.”

He reads the last line over and over and over again. Tucked between the pages is the photo of them with his SI certificate, and he cries harder because there’s nothing else he can do.

And then he’s running.

Out the door, through the apartment with May’s worried voice echoing behind him, down the stairs, out of the building.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, but somehow he ends up at the cemetary Happy brought him to last week, and his feet carry him all the way to the memorial.

He screams at the sky -- no actual words, just pure anguish, because he doesn’t have any words left to say.

He falls to his knees, he sobs until he feels like he might throw up, and he finds one word tearing through his lips over and over again.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

But there is no one to answer, and he doesn’t expect anyone to anyway. After all, the only person who can is gone forever.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but here’s movement behind him, and after a moment Rhodey sits down next to him.

“Happy thought this is where you might go. May is pretty worried, you know.”

He doesn’t reply. He has nothing to say.

He thinks Rhodey will make him leave, but he doesn’t. Rhodey just sits with him in silence.

“Did you know?” he finally croaks. “Did you know why he did it?”

Rhodey sighs softly. “He’d been adamant at first to not even try, so, yeah, I did ask why he changed his mind. And, ya know, he looked me dead in the eye when he said, ‘I’d do anything to get my kid back. I know everyone who lost someone feels the same. We have a chance, and I can’t rest until I know.’” He pauses then adds, “I’ve never seen such conviction from him. He was a father who had lost his child. Nothing can stand in the way of that.”

He feels another tear break free and he whispers, “Then why don’t you hate? You and Pepper and Morgan and Happy? He did it because of me. It’s my fault.”

“No. The only person to blame is Thanos, and he already paid for what he did. It doesn’t feel like enough, and it probably never will, but putting the blame on you for his choices?” Rhodey sighs again. “Tony knew what he was doing. Can’t blame anyone for that -- not even Thanos.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

“Good thing that’s not what I was going for then. Sometimes the facts don’t make us feel better, but that doesn’t change them. We have to take what we know and somehow learn to feel better in spite of that.”

“What if I can’t?” He finally looks over at Rhodey.

Rhodey meets his gaze. “You will. It’s not easy, but you will.”

“How did you do it?”

“Who says that I have?”

He’s not okay, but, then again, maybe no one else is either.

=============================================

The eighth time, he’s there because he wants to be.

He has a framed photo clutched in his hands, and he’s a bit nervous, but he’s not alone. May and Pepper and Morgan. Rhodey and Happy and Ned. They are all there with him, and they give him strength.

He steps away from them and finds a space to add his photograph among all the other mementos people have left. It’s one of his favorites -- one Pepper took of them in the lab when they weren’t looking.

He takes a moment to take in the memorial itself, the words ‘Whatever It Takes’ etched into the stone over reliefs of both Tony and Natasha. His lips quirk up in something reminiscent of a grin as he thinks about what they would say if they saw all of this.

Despite his resolve, tears find their way down his cheeks. He’s not okay, but he’s not pretending anymore.

“Thank you for everything. You gave me a second chance, and I won’t waste it. I won’t.”

He won’t waste it. That’s all he can do, but maybe it’s enough.

[nwbeerguide]

Pelican Brewing Company announces this year's edition of "Captain of the Coast"

Pacific City, Oregon (September 12, 2019)—Oh Captain! My Captain! Pelican Brewing Company welcomes back its barrel-aged triumph Captain of the Coast as it returns to port this weekend on Friday, September 13th. Pelican’s celebrated three-time Gold medalist Wee Heavy Ale aged in Dry Fly Wheat Whiskey Barrels took top honors this year at the 2019 Australian International Beer Awards.

The limited-production Captain of the Coast, which will be available this month in 22 oz. bottles and on draft at select locations, is available now for pre-order online. The Captain will be available for pick-up at Pelican brewpubs in Pacific City, Cannon Beach and Tillamook next weekend starting Friday, September 13th, and in specialty bottle shops the week of September 16th. Supplies are limited.

For this commanding version of MacPelican’s Wee Heavy Pelican took its award winning Wee Heavy and laid it down in Washington Wheat Whiskey barrels from Dry Fly Distilling in Spokane. What emerged was recognizably Wee Heavy, but with added notes of chocolate covered cherries, toasted oak, spice and vanilla in the aroma. The first sip produces flavors reminiscent of malted milk balls and crème brûlée with a silky-smooth mouthfeel. Continue on the voyage and you’ll find dried apricots, sherry-like flavors, and dark marmalade. The Captain welcomes you aboard.

ABV: 9.5%  |  IBU: 25  |  PLATO: 22º

With a nod to the popularity of Pelican’s original barrel-aged masterpiece Mother of All Storms, English-style Barleywine aged in Bourbon Barrels, the brewery continues its vision for creating recipes that combine beer, spirits and barrel flavors. Fellow fanatics of Pelican’s barrel-aged series have more tasty collectables ahead with quarterly releases of Captain, Queen of Hearts, Father of all Tsunamis and the annual return of ‘Mother’ this fall.

Like all Pelican beers, Captain of the Coast is born at the beach by a team of award-winning craft beer makers known for brewing styles of beer that they themselves love to drink. Cheers!

 For a list of all of Pelican’s award-winning beer, click here.

About Pelican Brewing Company

Pelican Brewing Company was born at the beach in 1996. Here, in front of a rundown old building at the water’s edge, stood three enthusiastic young folks whose thirst for great beer overshadowed their understanding of what it would take to build a brewery. They did it anyway. Thanks to the vision of founding owners Jeff Schons and Mary Jones, Oregon’s only beachfront brewpub became one of the state’s most popular destinations. And now 24 years later, Pelican Brewing Company is an iconic beach brand and one of the most decorated craft breweries in Oregon. Pelican has been honored with more than 450 awards including the prestigious 2015, 2016, 2017 Australian International Beer Awards Champion Medium International Brewery; 2014 World Beer Cup Champion Small Brewery; 2013 Great American Beer Festival Large Brewpub of the Year. Why? Pelican brews are playful, but not frivolous. Brewed with purpose, passion and a deep respect for the craft. Pelican operates brewing and brewpub facilities in Pacific City, Cannon Beach, and its state-of-the-craft brewery in Tillamook, Oregon where it brews 40,000 barrels of award-winning beer annually and distributes to six states. Pelican’s vision, its beer and values were born at the beach where the team wakes up each day in a place that reminds them that amazing is possible. Cheers, Fellow Fanatics!

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide http://bit.ly/2I7OH5B

[innuendostudios]

After four months of work, my video essay Bringing Back What’s Stolen: Fury Road and the Avenging Feminine is online. A nearly hour-long dive into the cinematic language of feminine violence in action and horror films. You can also watch this playlist of all 8 parts if you don’t want to click through manually. I will share a supercut of the whole thing as soon as I deal with a copyright block.

This was a crapload of work so, please, if you want more like it, consider backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Mad Max Fury Road has three principal characters: Imperator Furiosa, Immortan Joe, Max Rockatansky; protagonist, antagonist, deuteragonist (it’s a word).

Each character is introduced from behind, as a body first and then, later, as a person.

We meet Max at a remove, practically a silhouette. Wrapped in cloth and buried in wild hair, it takes several moments before we glimpse human skin. Almost immediately, he’s disappearing into his V8 Interceptor, and it’s not until his pursuers roll his car that we get a shot of his face, covered in sand and a matted beard.

Max is a person who has abandoned all markers of his humanity to live alone in the desert. His obscured face makes it easier to relate to him as a feral animal than as a man, and that’s the life he’s chosen; living like an animal insulates him from danger and buries his guilt and trauma. Throughout the first chunk of the film, Max’s face is remains obscured, first by the beard, then a gag, then a muzzle. We get only one unobstructed shot of his face, and it’s framed by the bars of a cage. The protections he built around himself, the war boys have stripped him of, and replaced with chains; humanity is no longer something forsaken, it's something denied.

It’s not until 45 minutes into the movie, having escaped Joe and formed a tenuous alliance with Furiosa and the wives, that he starts to look to the audience like a recognizable human.

We meet Furiosa in the opposite fashion. Where Max was a wide shot of a silhouette that is all cloth and hair, Furiosa is an extreme close-up of brightly-lit human skin. She carries Joe’s brand, and she has her hair cut short, which implies everything we just saw Max go through, she has gone through as well. They’re both prisoners. [“I was taken… stolen.”]

Where Max is invisible inside his car, we follow Furiosa inside the war rig. Max is like a hermit crab receding into its shell only to have it pried off, where Furiosa has complete mastery of her vehicle (it even has her missing arm drawn on the driver’s side door, as though the war rig were an extension of her body). Clear windows, her face unobstructed, the greasepaint on her forehead making her eyes - the windows to the soul - pop, making her expression more readable.

Everything Max takes the first act to become, she is from her first scene. The time between her introduction and getting a good look at her face is just over two minutes.

Joe’s introduction is the sick inversion of the others’, closer and fleshier than Furiosa’s yet more alien than Max’s. Where Furiosa’s skin humanizes her, Joe’s tumorous body does the reverse. Where Max has his layers of protection stripped from him, Joe is kitted up with armor and finery. Where Max struggles to make his face visible and Furiosa’s expressions are accentuated, the distance between Joe’s introduction and seeing his face uncovered is the entire movie; we only see Joe unmasked when half his face has been torn off. And three minutes later the credits are rolling.

What makes these characters accessible has been distorted to make Joe a grotesque. (I don’t have room to get into the troubling ways Fury Road uses atypical bodies as a shorthand for inhumanity, so I’ve written a small, additional essay, link in the down there part, or at the end.)

So here we have it, from the opening shots: protagonist, antagonist, deuteragonist; human, inhuman, half-human.

The things I’m describing are filmic techniques for creating or denying audience empathy. Humans relate to other humans, and filmmakers employ dozens of tricks to portray inhumans as human and thereby relatable, and portray humans as inhuman to make the otherwise. By this rubric, empathy with Max is built, empathy with Joe is denied, and empathy with Furiosa is simply expected.

The female action star being the one for whom empathy is most freely given is by no means unprecedented, but it’s not the norm. In the tradition of Blow Shit Up movies, the “relatable action heroine” is often approximated, approached asymptotically, but rarely depicted. Some don’t seem to believe she exists. Yet, here she is.

Furiosa is our white whale.

If, in a rom-com, the Thing What Solves Your Problem is love, in an action movie, The Thing What Solves Your Problem is violence. Something is wrong with the world, and the plot is structured around amassing the strength, tactics, or allies necessary to smash your problem until it goes away. That’s how things get fixed. And the idea of punching the world back into shape is deeply tied up in our notions of manliness.

There are dozens, if not hundreds, of archetypal action protagonists, from the Everyman Against the World to the Hulking Brute to the Dapper G-man to the Stoic Killing Machine, and, while occasionally cast with women, they are all, by default, men. There’s maybe no other genre more deeply associated with masculinity.

The longstanding assumption is that women complicate violent movies the way we used to say they complicate sea voyages. The movies are manly, the audience is male, and a male audience will not identify with a female character as a matter of course. This assumption goes into the writing, the casting, the filming, the editing, and the marketing. Demographics do bear out that violent movie audiences are, primarily, men, but this assumption existed before we tracked demographics. So, then: if we’ve been making the movies for men, and marketing them to men, should we really be surprised if it’s mostly men who end up seeing them?

For a variety of reasons, action filmmakers can’t just make movies without women in them: a) there are still at least a few women in the audience, and their money spends just as well as a man’s, so best not to completely alienate them, b) they’d rather not get yelled at too much by feminists, c) sleeping with beautiful women is part of the power fantasy a lot of male action heroes are supposed to cater to, and d) absent any women, the fixation with the male physique might read as just a wee bit gay, and we can’t have that, apparently.

So if women in action movies are unavoidable, perhaps the audience’s sympathies, if not freely given, can be earned. For this purpose, action filmmakers have invented a handful of female archetypes.

Between these six women, we can chart the cinematic language of feminine violence as it is most commonly codified. I’ll stress that they are not the sum total of womanly presence in violent movies, but, if you’re a fan of violent film, you’ve probably been in a room with them dozens of times and never been formally introduced.

Each has something to teach us about how men are expected to relate to a woman in a violent context. Let us discuss each in her own turn, and, with each, how Fury Road’s avoidance, subversion, or rejection of these expectations are key to what the film is about.

Let’s get y’all acquainted.

The Innocent: Helplessness

There is a beat common in action movies called The Kick The Dog Moment. Kicking a dog is how screenwriters signal to the audience just how bad the bad guy is, because only a monster would harm something so precious, so loyal, so helpless as a dog.

An even more common beat for exposing a villain’s evil nature is the Strike The Woman Moment, or the Grope The Woman Moment, or the Shoot The Woman Moment.

This is the role of The Innocent: precious, loyal, helpless, and serving the same narrative function as a puppy. Her proximity to violence spurs the plot forward, and reveals things about violent men, but the story’s never really about her. It’s about the men. She’s there to get threatened by men, to get kidnapped by men, to get killed by men. Also, she’s there to get rescued by men, or, failing that, to be avenged by men. The Kick The Dog Moment isn’t about the dog, it’s about the villain. The dog is a device.

The Innocent is not wholly incapable of enacting violence herself. She will, on occasion, fight back against her captors, which serves to communicate to the audience that she’s feisty; but it rarely accomplishes anything. Occasionally, during the falling action, she is granted an act of symbolic violence, sometimes even landing the final blow on the villain, but this is only after the dramatic tension surrounding the villain has resolved.

The Innocent is an onlooker to violence, she is often the site of violence, and though she is sometimes allowed to perform violence in an honorary capacity, she’s not a full participant. She is a symbol of what is good and worth protecting, and what is good is innately peaceful. Violence is a burden that violence is used to spare her from. It is the solemn duty of men. She can only enter this domain as a victim.

She is, by far, the most common female action movie archetype. There’s even a variant I call The False Innocent - the woman who plays off people’s assumption that women are powerless in order to kick their asses. You know, what if that 90-pound, doe-eyed waif being threatened by the big strong men is secretly the toughest person in the room? (Joss Whedon is, shall we say, fond of this one.) This serves as a direct rebuke to the assumptions baked into The Innocent, but it says something about how pervasive the archetype is that you can build an entire second archetype around everyone assuming all women are Innocents.

In Fury Road, as soon as our protagonist and deuteragonist meet, it is made clear that Furiosa can hold her own in a fight with only one arm. This scene serves the same function as the Thor-Iron Man-Captain America fight in The Avengers: “Hey, these folks are pretty evenly-matched. Wouldn’t it be cool if they were on the same side?” And Furiosa’s not the only woman who can fight: Later, we meet fearsome warrior tribe The Vuvalini.

So where we normally see a divide between violent men and passive women, here we have a split between multi-gendered warriors, and people who don’t fight - in this case, the wives.

And not being a warrior doesn’t ipso facto make the wives useless, unlike some damsels who, growing up, made you or possibly your older sister yell “DO SOMETHING WOMAN” at the TV. People who can’t throw a punch can still throw you a weapon, they can pull your enemies off you, they can keep ammo away from your enemy’s gun. They can reload a rifle, they can stop a bullet from being fired. They can make you a new ally. Even when people try to turn them into helpless prisoners, as happens to so many women in so many movies, they don’t have to submit; they can surrender and then help you board the enemy’s caravan, or, even taken captive and held at gunpoint, they can still help you take down the Big Bad.

In isolation, any one of these could be just another “feisty damsel” or “false innocent” moment, but, in their totality, they start to imply that the reason the wives aren’t fighters like Furiosa is the same reason they don’t drive the war rig: They don’t know how, because they’ve been kept in a safe. There is nothing innate about the difference between a warrior and a non-warrior, and certainly nothing gendered; just training.

If the usual framing is active, violent men protecting or possessing passive, innocent women, no one in this movie is passive. No one. Even if you aren’t shooting the gun yourself, there are still ways to contribute. You don’t have to sit around waiting to be rescued, there’s work to do.

It’s important to recognize that the wives are never rescued by anyone; not Max, not even Furiosa. [“they begged her to go” clip.] Violence may still be the way things get done in an action movie, but it’s not synonymous with agency. They set the plot in motion. This whole thing is their plan. It’s not a rescue, it’s an escape.

The Vasquez: Masculinity

Meet The Vasquez, the masculine woman, named after Janette Goldstein’s character in Aliens because all the other words I could think of carried the wrong connotations. (Also, Goldstein? Really?) The Vasquez is rough, she’s tough, she’s hard-drinking, she’s foul-mouthed, she’s gun-savvy, she’s sexually aggressive, and, most importantly, she’s one of the guys. If the most common coding is that men are violent and women are passive, and the action screenwriter assumes a male audience won’t like their female character because they can’t stand to think violence could ever be feminine, the obvious solution? Make the lady man up. If she resembles a man, she can be fashioned into any number of existing male archetypes, from military grunt to double agent to assassin.

Her closest male counterpoint is The Hardbody, a staple of the 80’s action milieu. In a hardbody movie, we either meet a man who’s a pillar of masculine strength, or we watch an ostensibly regular guy spend the movie becoming one. Similarly, The Vasquez is sometimes introduced fully-formed, but, more often than not, we watch her emerge from the body of a traditionally feminine woman. And where a Hardbody’s training montage shows what is soft becoming hard, The Vasquez shows what is feminine becoming masculine. [G.I. Jane clip on not menstruating.]

In either gender, we can call this process “ruggedization,” and it’s not only physical. As a character acclimates to violence, there is often a change in presentation. Most especially with a woman, ruggedization may not be the gaining of muscle but the shedding of feminine signifiers. Note how Ripley, over the course of three movies, goes from having all the hair to a lot of the hair to none of the hair, thereby resembling all the men in the movie, as she becomes more of an action heroine. Note how, as Thelma goes from neurotic housewife to a woman who robs liquor stores and holds up policemen, we see her go from frilly white dresses to denim to dirty sleeveless tops. Note the scene where Louise sits down at a truck stop, takes off every piece of jewelry she owns, and trades them for a man’s cowboy hat.

Also, in correlation with becoming violent, there tends to be, call it a shift in patterns of speech: [“suck my dick” montage].

The Vasquez maintains the association between powerlessness and womanness codified by The Innocent because, as the woman sheds her weakness, she also sheds her womanness; the two are treated as the same thing. Violence stays masculine; women get violent when they become honorary men.

Fury Road‘s trick is to take its plurality of female characters and scatter them across the entire gender spectrum. In terms of presentation, you’ve got the highly feminine wives, the traditionally masculine garb of the Vuvalini, and Furiosa somewhere in between. The film subverts the spectrum further by softly rejecting the notion that a person occupies any single position along it. Toast is very feminine and also knows her way around guns; the Vuvalini are a leather-wearing, pants-sporting biker gang, and also are The Many Mothers, who care about feminine-coded things like cooperation, empathy, gardening. Masculinity and femininity are not an either/or. Many traits exist, in varying proportions, in all people.

Traditional femininity is valorized in our male heroes as well. Traits like healing, softness, deference to superior skill, self-sacrifice, these things are treated as inherently valuable irrespective of one’s gender, and absolutely mission critical to their success in battle. Basically every time a man does something that Human Embodiment of Toxic Masculinity Joe would disallow, it helps them win. This goes a long way towards elevating femininity, but also breaking up the male-female dichotomy, allowing anyone to possess any trait from anywhere along the spectrum and still be strong.

The fact that Joe does treat gender as an either/or, that he does not foster community nor empathy with his followers, that he only maintains loyalty by imposing a Norse-inspired death cult that leads his war boys into reckless behavior and crumbles instantly if it’s ever challenged, these things are liabilities.

Men and women are at their strongest not at their most masculine - at their most like Joe - but when they are free to be as masculine and as feminine as the situation requires of them. What’s wrong with Joe isn’t masculinity - masculine signifiers abound on both sides of the fight - it’s a malignant masculinity that rejects all but the most extreme of one end of the spectrum. This narrowness is what gets Joe killed.

The Dominatrix: Sexuality

The sensual murderess, ass-kicking in catsuits, high heels, and chokers. The ostentatious fusion of the two greatest spectacles: Sex & Death, Pleasure & Pain, Eros & Thanatos. If you want to leave behind the idea that the only way to be violent is to be manly and you worry your straight male audience will revolt, consider writing someone every straight male is already familiar with.

Consider The Dominatrix.

(Note that I am using the term “dominatrix” a little loosely here. In real life, there is a distinction between highly sexualized violence and actual BDSM iconography. How do I know? Mind your own business.)

The Dominatrix is a violent - often hyperviolent - character who is still, unmistakably, a woman. I mean, say what you want about Bayonetta, she’s not mannish. Most men are at least passingly familiar with what a dominatrix is, so it’s not a far leap to refashion a woman’s bedroom violence into action movie violence. But she comes with some baggage.

The femininity she displays is specifically the subset of femininity most appealing to men. She’s not a nurturer, not a healer, not soft, and rarely cooperative. Her womanliness begins and ends with sexuality. And sexiness creates its own context. There may be loose justification for why she’s dressed the way she is: you know, she can’t wear armor like a normal person because she needs to leap around - gymnastics being another familiar image of female physical excellence, and an excuse to whiz the camera around her body. But much of the time we don’t even get that much. The movie holds no pretense: She’s dressed that way because the audience likes it.

The thinking here seems to be that if straight men consider violence the domain of men, and, therefore, a violent woman an affront to their masculinity, they’ll willingly take a blow to their male ego provided their heterosexual ego is, to speak indelicately, getting stroked. For what does a dominatrix do? Strike, dominate, and degrade, yes, but for their partner’s own pleasure. It’s, at least in part, a performance; there’s a reason your dalliance with a domme is called “a scene.”

The dominatrix-as-action-heroine turns violence into a kind of elaborate pole dance, inoffensive to a man because it’s for him, a woman trafficking in male signifiers made acceptable because she does it sexylike.

Of all the characters we’re talking about, The Dominatrix demands the least empathy of the male audience. An action movie offers a power fantasy; James Bond is supposed to be a character men want to be. Men don’t want to be Barb Wire. Men are supposed to look at Barb Wire, not walk a mile in her pumps. The Dominatrix is most commonly a villain or an antihero. Perhaps it should come as no surprise: Bad Girls aren’t Good Guys.

Now, this is a bit of a subjective statement, but Fury Road doesn’t sexualize its women.

Let me paint you a picture: A man lives for some indeterminate length of time at the very bottom of a rigid social hierarchy wherein only the man at the top has access to beautiful women. Prior to that he lived for years alone in the desert. We don’t know how long it’s been since he’s even spoken to a woman. After a thrilling escape, he, alone, happens upon the five women deemed by that society the most beautiful and fertile, the “prized breeders,” clad in white, cutting off their chastity belts, and spraying each other with a hose.

This is how Max meets the wives. Most Hollywood directors would shoot this scene like a wet t-shirt contest.

Man Of Social Caste That Would Never See A Beautiful Woman Naked Stumbles Upon One Or More Bathing Out Of Doors has been shot hundreds of times. This is every hot springs episode of every anime ever drawn. Movie peeping is the essence of the filmic experience, because a man watching a woman bathe is doing the same thing you are doing as an audience member: looking at naked people who can’t see you. The way you traditionally shoot this scene is to lean in to the voyeurism. If there’s going to be bathing and then a fight, why not sexy bathing and sexy fighting?

In Fury Road, Max lusts only for one thing. Water.

During this scene, Furiosa is fully-clothed, and look at how she’s framed. Now look at the shots favored for the wives: long shots and tight close-ups. As in: their breasts and hips are either filmed at a distance or cropped out of frame.

I don’t want to overstate things. That framing is not enforced, merely favored. And there’s no denying these women are, by conventional standards, beautiful - I mean, for fuck’s sake, Zoe Kravitz is in this movie. I’m not, like, kinkshaming you if you do find this scene erotic. But it seems to me that effort is being expended to downplay the obvious potential for eroticism. A chastity belt coming off could easily signal sexual availability. [Men in Tights clip] But this one has teeth. To I’m thinking, “I would want that off me, too.” I feel I am being asked to walk in the wives’ shoes.

If what you need to feel OK with a woman holding a gun is some hint that she’s doing it to turn you on, Fury Road won’t give you that. If you want to see women as sexy bodies before you consider seeing them as humans, Fury Road won’t give you that, either. That’s how Joe sees them, and they left that perspective behind before frame one, and make one thing clear in their very first line of dialogue: [“We’re not going back.”]

The Mama Bear: Motherhood

A common action movie character is the man who’s love interest is kidnapped and/or murdered, and he is spurred into violence so that he can rescue her and/or punish everyone responsible. Swap the man for a mother and the love interest for her child and you’ve got The Mama Bear, the woman who will stop at nothing to protect her cub, a la Jodie Foster in Panic Room or Jodie Foster in Flightplan, or, occasionally, the woman who avenges another member of her nuclear family, a la Jodie Foster in The Brave One. (Jodie’s got a thing that works for her.)

Believe it or not, most men, growing up, had moms, and it’s a cultural narrative that children feel safe under their mother’s protection. So The Mama Bear is a violent woman who is, once again, both feminine and familiar. She’s the ideal of what we’d want our mom to be if something bad happened to us.

By nature or circumstance, The Mama Bear is a single mother, either recently divorced, recently widowed, or possessing a husband who is simply someplace else. (And if he shows up he tends to get his ass handed to him.) Occasionally she’s just single, or even a surrogate whose motherly instinct kicks in upon contact with an orphan. In all these cases, she springs into action without a lot of assistance from men. You can read this as an independent woman who does not require men to help her, or you can read it as a woman who acts, not because she’s suited to the task, but because there are no men to do it for her. Most are a little bit of both.

But this is a strong character who’s not only allowed to be feminine, she is strong because she’s a woman. She has entered the domain of men with her femininity intact. This is not to say that motherhood and womanhood should be so closely tied in our cultural consciousness, simply to acknowledge that, at this moment in time, they are. Mothers are thought of as women whom we not only accept but demand strength from.

But, if she’s our idea of what a mother should be, then our point of identification isn’t necessarily her, but, at least in part, the moppets. Because what warm-blooded mammal can look at the quivering lips of children in danger and not root for anyone trying to save them? The Mama Bear, often enough, gets a kind of collateral empathy, the spillover of our concern for her kids.

She is, also, in contrast with The Dominatrix, almost completely without fail, sexless, another consequence of having dead or absent husbands. She doesn’t have sex, kiss, or even flirt, because, naturally, our ideal mother would never make us think about her banging anyone. That, the assumption seems to go, is the price for our respect.

Between one obvious pregnancy, the wives’ escape to “the green place of many mothers,” and the words they left scrawled in their cell, motherhood is a central theme in Fury Road. The symbology of motherhood is all over fiction written by men. You know the “women and children first” trope in disaster movies? That’s not just chivalry. It’s also men preserving the mechanisms by which they pass on their genes. [Up In The Air: “Because you can’t have babies.”]

Immortan Joe is kind of the ad absurdum of this thinking, having literally turned motherhood into a commodity-producing industry. Outside of Furiosa’s relative privilege and a few unnamed proles, the only women in Joe’s hierarchy are babymakers and dairy cows. The wives’ escape is, at least in part, about providing a better life for them and their children, where bodies and babies are not property.

What’s absent in all this is any actual children. Save for some nameless warboy youths at the beginning and end - some of whom, for all we know, may have been born to the wives - children are not party to the action. There are no wee ones with their eyes welling up to get you caring about their moms by proxy. The wives and the Vuvalini may all carry the title of “mother,” but it’s abstracted. What’s at issue isn’t children but the idea of motherhood, or, more accurately, the right to motherhood, celebrated on its own terms and for its own sake, not as a service to men. And, by focusing more on pregnancy than child-rearing, motherhood is not quite so divorced from sex.

Motherhood and strength coexist in the characters, but the one does not derive from the other. Motherhood is not correlated with fighting ability. The wives’ rebellion is about the rights of their babies no more than it’s about their own rights to not be things.

The Final Girl: Specialness

[“Do you like scary movies?”]

OK, this one… is a lot.

A gaggle of young folks - usually horny teens - is terrorized by a monster - usually a man in a mask - who represents a kind of pure, unwavering evil and kills with a bladed weapon. One by one, every character is picked off or incapacitated until there’s only one left, a young woman who, in spite of her terror, finds the strength to fight back, and, often enough kill the killer. If you’re not familiar with the slasher movies of the 70’s and 80’s, you might not even know, at first, who of the initial posse is supposed to be the protagonist, but if you’re a fan, you’ll recognize her instantly: Responsible, resourceful, and pure, she is The Final Girl.

The slasher is an interesting case, because, breaking with the traditions we’ve established,  it’s an entire genre where a presumably male audience isn’t expected to accept a violent woman, by the end of the film they are expected to be screaming for her to pick up the chainsaw and kill the fuck out of the bad guy.

Because The Final Girl is special, damn it.

What sets her apart? Well, a lot of it is to do with what The Final Girl symbolizes and how it contrasts with the symbology of the killer. Of all the characters, she is the most suited to survive and combat the villain, which is why she outlives her friends. We can start with the most obvious difference: [“She’s a virgin”].

Virginity means a lot of things in the movies. Purity: If the killer represents all we consider evil about the world, the antidote to that is someone who is, metaphorically, “unsullied.” Youth: If sex is considered a rite of passage into adulthood, then a virgin is, in some ways, still a child, and we’ve already discussed how relating to a child is considered a smaller ask than relating to an adult woman. Desirability: As a society, we haven’t fully escaped the puritanical narrative of “bringing a virgin to the altar,” at least not in our movie symbolism, and codifying a woman as “untainted goods” invites the male audience to, well, crush on her. There also tends to be this subtext of sexual violation to the murders, which lends the whole thing a Chaucerian concern for preserving a young woman’s maidenhead.

There are other ways The Final Girl, even if not explicitly a virgin, is virginal. She doesn’t drink, or, if she does, she’s a lightweight. She doesn’t smoke pot, or, if she does, she’s inexperienced. She doesn’t flirt, or, if she does, she’s comparatively demure. She’s also usually a bit brighter than her friends: The one who first senses something is wrong, the one who makes a plan of action, the one who figures out the killer’s identity. She may not be “one of the guys,” but she’s “not like other girls.”

This emerges slowly over the course of the film. The more characters die, the more The Final Girl appears to individuate from the rest. It is the ways in which they are not like her that get the other girls killed. They’re too dim, too horny, too oblivious. The empathy you build for The Final Girl - in part by having every other potential point of empathy systematically removed - you are not asked to extend to the other girls. You empathize with a woman, not with women. If she is special, they are unspecial. Their deaths are scary, but titillating. You’re not expected to root for them the way you root for her. You’re here to watch them die.

Then there’s the killer himself. In the early going, the camera is more closely aligned with him than any of his victims, often showing the murders literally through his eyes. It’s only as The Final Girl grows more active in the story - and, eventually, becomes violent - that we gradually come to see the killer from the victim’s perspective.

Each slasher villain is a snapshot of what society thought an image of evil incarnate would look like at that time. The things they have in common are telling.

The killer is almost always a man - Friday the 13th Part I notwithstanding - but is commonly, by societal standards, an insufficient man: Physically deformed (The Hills Have Eyes), gender-nonconforming (Psycho), or just really, really hating sex (Jason X). This is often blamed on being too close with his mommy. Meanwhile, The Final Girl’s disinterest in the activities of other women makes her a little tomboyish, and it’s really common for her to have a boy’s name: Stevie, Marti, Terry, Stretch, Ripley, Taylor, Sidney. Couple this with her tendency to kill the villain with his own intimate, penetrating weapon - and I’m not going to go down the rabbit hole of phallic imagery in slasher movies because, frankly, I think most writers make too much of it, but it’s there - and you can read The Final Girl’s assault on the killer as becoming a better man than him.

We still haven’t escaped the fixation with violence and masculinity. This isn’t to say The Final Girl is another Vasquez - even if she is ruggedized, it’s not by forsaking femininity. Instead, the distinctions between masculinity and femininity are more permeable; the killer kills what is feminine, and then fails to kill what is, in some ways, less feminine than himself. And that failure leads to the reversal of who commits violence against whom.

Fury Road borrows a lot of imagery from horror films, most especially in imagining Joe as huge, misshapen, and masc’d. But Joe’s monstrosity is not a lack but an overabundance of masculinity, by no means the ideal male body but a body that idealizes maleness. If masculinity is a performance then he’s Kenneth fuckin’ Branagh. He hides his welts under fake abs, war medals, and - ahem - whiteness, and hangs a gear from a muscle car from highly symbolic places. [It’s drivin’ me nuts!] And he’s defeated not by appropriation of these signifiers but by rejection of everything they stand for.

But if the core of The Final Girl is a specialness that does not extend to other characters, can we talk about how not one person on Furiosa’s side of the battle is special? Not a one of them.

If we wanted to argue Furiosa is “not like other girls,” which other girls would we even be referring to? The femmes in white or the granny biker gang? The elderly matron, the full-bodied milk mothers, or the suffering proles? Furiosa has commonalities and differences with all of them. They all have commonalities and differences with each other. There is no “normal” from which to deviate. Even within a single type, there is variation: the wives alone have the leader, the nurturer, the weird one, the scared one, and the tough one (or: Gobo, Mokey, Wembley, Boober, and Red). No one is interchangeable.

At the same time, no one is special. The war rig is chock full of redundancies: Multiple people who can drive, multiple people who can shoot, multiple people who can fix what’s broken. Which is, again, necessary, because there’s too much to do not to have backup. [“I’m going to need you to drive the rig.”]

We don’t know a lot about Joe’s society, but we can infer it’s a caste system that stratifies everyone by specialness, here defined by their usefulness to Joe. At the bottom are possessions: wives, blood bags, and milk producers. Above them are the masses, and then the war boys, who believe they will be awaited in Valhalla if they perform their duties well. Next is Furiosa as a leader in Joe’s army, and then Joe’s immediate family, and, finally, Joe himself, singular and all-powerful. [“He grabs the sun.”]

Furiosa’s alliance counters this verticality with a lateral power structure - I mean, it’s literally the difference between a tower and a convoy - where specialness is not a prerequisite to rights, privilege, or empathy. A cooperative, where no one is fungible or disposable, and on one is special or elite. People form interdependencies with each other of their own free will, and may leave at any time if they wish. No one earns a place in society, or the empathy of the audience, by proving themselves unique. It is simply assumed that everyone is deserving of both.

Also, remember when I said this scene mostly kept the camera away from the wives’ breasts and hips? Here’s one of the only exceptions: [not a virgin clip]

The Rape Revenger: Suffering

I’m going to spare you the explicit footage in this section.

The rape revenge film is the subtext of the slasher movie made literal, the kick-the-dog moment if it took up an entire reel, what would happen if The Mama Bear fought as passionately for herself as for her kids. A number of men target a particularly vulnerable woman - usually isolated, sometimes even deaf or mute - and rape her. And then, one by one, they meet their fate at the hands of The Rape Revenger.

Most commonly, The Rape Revenger and the victim are the same person, though, sometimes, she is avenging a loved one, or even a member of her immediate community. (Yes, among other things, Alien is a movie about rape. The rape is metaphorical.) Her often sadistic killing spree is female-against-male in response to the most quintessentially male-against-female act of violence, and not only is the male viewer supposed to find this violence acceptable, he is supposed to find it righteous. He is supposed to clamor for the deaths of the transgressors. In these films, there is no retribution too cruel for a rapist.

The genre was most popular around the same time as the slasher, and carries much of the same coding: There’s the same lurid fascination with female bodies as objects of beauty and sites of extreme pain, the same earning of sympathy over the course of an entire movie rather than it being assumed, and the same implication that men are the source of a violence that women can become imbued with by being the victims of it.

The biggest difference is just how much the woman suffers in these movies. She suffers a lot.

There’s no collective of dipshit teens to spread the violence across; everything the villains do, they do to one woman. The genre banks hard on the idea that one can’t help caring for a person as one watches her go through hell. Often, what makes the villains monstrous isn’t their cruelty but that they lack this compassion, that they hardly even notice the pain they’re causing. To them, sexual violence is rarely even about the woman, but jockeying for status with one another. It’s performative, men proving they’re alphas. And the movies treat this apathy towards female suffering as among the most heinous acts a man can commit.

If your heart does not go out to a woman in pain, you are implicated in her suffering.

Not that the male-fronted rape revenge film doesn’t exist, but this is another of the rare violent genres where the protagonist is a woman by default. It is deeply rooted in the (at least, presumed) experience of being a woman. And, for all the genre’s trashiness and exploitation - and they are very trashy, and very exploitative, and usually written by men - the most ambitious of them point fingers not just at the male villains but at masculinity itself.

So if a rape revenge film is seen as a workable way to get a male audience member to not only align with a violent woman but against the worst aspects of maleness itself, the question is: Does the woman have to be nude, filthy, beaten, and degraded for him to get there?

Fury Road assumes otherwise. Female suffering is conspicuously absent from the movie.

Make no mistake, the wives have all been raped by Joe. That’s why he kept them. At least two are pregnant with his children. But there are no scenes of them inside the cell, no flashbacks, no tearful descriptions of what was done to them. Even over the course of a very violent movie, it is surprisingly merciful when it comes to violence inflicted on women: When Angharad dies, the camera doesn’t show it [“she went under the wheels”]; when Organic performs an emergency C-section on her body, the camera tilts away; a scene where Joe leaves her and Miss Giddy in the swamp to be eaten by crows was wisely cut from the film. Even the worst beatings Furiosa suffers are not dwelt upon.

It is crucial that the only person we see suffer Joe’s indignities is Max.

Male-on-male violence carries neither the social baggage of what real-life domestic violence usually looks like nor the grindhouse edginess of watching women get hurt. It’s allowed to just be violence. We see Max stripped of his autonomy, his car and his blood put into service in somebody else’s war. We see him captured, sheared, and branded, and then we’re shown Furiosa, with all evidence of the same, and it’s clear whatever empathy we’ve built for him in the safe space of male-on-male violence, we owe to her. We’re never asked to pity the wives, and we’re never given a cheap thrill at the sight of their suffering. We’re asked to respect them, and to take them at their word. We’ve seen their cell, their pregnant bellies, the scars on Angharad’s face. We don’t need to see them suffer to know it happened.

Cruelty is the hack writer’s shorthand for evil. That’s what all those Kick the Dog moments are for. But a man can be evil without being cruel. [Cheedo scene, “he was kind.”] Joe withholds plentiful resources to keep his subjects in line. He keeps young men as battle fodder for his wars. He keeps slaves for blood and breeding. Would it matter if, in person, he was sweet, gentle, soft? The system he’s built to benefit himself is inherently cruel. The wives don’t write “you treated us like shit” on the walls when they escape, they write “we are not things.” We don’t need to see, or even know, how Joe treated them to know he’s a tyrant.

The Avenging Feminine

Before the comments fill up with taxonomical debates over whether this or that character truly fits the definition of a Mama Bear, the way folks still argue over what is or isn’t a MacGuffin, let me disclaim: The study of tropes is the study of patterns. The Mama Bear is not a character, she’s what a host of different characters all have in common with each other. We note a trend, and we give the trend a name so it can be discussed. Not every character will have all the traits we associate with the pattern; arguably most won’t. But the reason we give the pattern a name is because, if there’s a trend, it must be serving a purpose. The assumption is that men won’t like the image of a woman with a gun. The purpose of the trope is to say, “It’s OK, this time, because she’s a mom.” And it’s a lot less relevant that Charlie Baltimore doesn’t perfectly fit the definition of a Mama Bear because she’s also kind of a Vasquez than that her motherhood serves that same purpose.

The assumption is men will accept that any male character, no matter how soft, if stripped to his essence, will become violent, but, with women, they need to be convinced. These are six different ways of contending with that assumption. Though, you will, I hope, have noticed, that almost every woman I’ve discussed here has been white. This is because, if filmmakers assume a male audience needs to be convinced that a woman will become violent, a countervailing assumption is that a white audience doesn’t need to be convinced that a person of color will. POC have their own set of tropes to contend with, tropes that have far less influence on the action movie as a whole, because violent Black women are even rarer than violent white ones. Because the codification of movie violence is deeply informed by the presumed whims of straight white men.

It’s an open question whether many straight white men actually need these reassurances to enjoy a violent film, though it’s clear a lot have come to expect them.

Action movie violence isn’t just violence, it’s power, and power in the hands of the disadvantaged is very threatening to those with privilege. Fury Road’s very interested in the flow of power. In it, women may possess violence, but lacking it does not make them helpless. It does not insist that masculinity is the only way to wield power and vilifies those who do. It refuses to objectify its female characters but doesn’t strip them of all sexuality in the process. It valorizes motherhood without pretending what makes a woman powerful is her ability to provide men with babies. It offers many models of femininity without treating any one as more normal or valid than the others. And it engages the way women suffer under patriarchy without using that suffering as cheap pathos or easy thrills.

In short, the assumption baked into all the tropes we’ve discussed, that violence - power - is the domain of men that women can only enter in exceptional cases is flatly ignored. Feminine presence in this masculine space is not treated as a transgression, men who would consider it one are personified in the villain, and no attempt is made to soothe the male ego at the sight of women holding guns and crossbows.

This alone would make a movie remarkable. But I don’t think we can stake a movie’s greatness on what it doesn’t do, so, if you’ll permit me, I’ll get to the goddamn point.

No matter how many women are in it, the core of an action movie is about solving your problems with violence. That an appropriate show of force will put things right again. Fury Road is no different in this respect. And, in our society, this is understood to be the male power fantasy, one that has been enforced by thousands of repetitions. So what, then, does it mean to portray a woman living out that fantasy? Does her presence decouple the association between violence and manliness, or is living out a male power fantasy a kind of drag? Is performing that fantasy performing masculinity? Is every action heroine, in a functional sense, a Vasquez? Is the action film too thoroughly encoded male to be reclaimed?

Can movie violence ever truly be feminine?

I don’t think I, or any single movie, can answer that question. However, if you said, “Let’s just assume the answer is ‘yes’ and imagine what that movie would look like,” you might imagine Fury Road. And I’m going to explain why without using the phrase “Deleuzian corporeality.” Let’s talk about the two bags.

When Max lets Furiosa and the wives into the war rig, he does not yet trust them, so, for safety, he collects all the weapons in the cab and puts them in a bag that he keeps with him. A satchel full of Chekhov’s guns, and you will see every one of them fired. Later, after Angharad’s death, the wives take stock of its contents. [“anti-seed” clip]

When the wives stay the night with the Vuvalini, a woman called The Keeper of the Seeds has this exchange with The Dag: [bag of seeds clip]. She shows this to The Dag after a conversation about murder: [“thought you girls were above all that”]. And here’s what the bag means to her: [“there was no need to snap anybody then”]. This bag symbolizes an idealized vision of the past, when the savagery of the post-apocalypse wasn’t necessary. When peace was, at least, possible. This is the bag that is pointedly taken with them when they go to overthrow Joe’s society, being the only place around that could actually sustain plant life and abundance.

So there you have it, a bag of seed and a bag of anti-seed, one full of weapons from the Citadel and one full of sprouts from the Green Place of Many Mothers, one representing the toxic masculine warmongering directly implicated in the fall of civilization, and one representing a potential rebirth of society spearheaded by a pack of moms and highly symbolic pregnancies. Fury Road ain’t good because it’s subtle.

So, yeah, Joe fights to maintain the savagery of the post-apocalypse, because it’s where he’s amassed his power, and the Vuvalini fight to bring and end to it. That’s the difference between toxic masculinity and egalitarian feminism, right? Women represent peace, so we should put them in charge, and a little blood must be shed along the way. That is a reading fully supported by the text. And you might well respond, “Hey, most every action movie insists that The Good Guys’ violence is justified and will lead to peace and only The Bad Guys’ violence leads to continuing violence. There’s nothing particularly subversive about that.” And you’d be right.

But let me give a different reading.

Joe’s power derives from controlling the water supply and arable land and, thereby, agriculture. His power dissolves if someone else can provide his people with resources. So a bag of seeds can represent a feminine rebirth, or it can represent liberation at the hands of women from the existing power structure. Not an end to violence, but an end to unjust violence. Not an end to scarcity, but an end to false scarcity. And end to subjugation. And end to autocracy. Violence as a tilling of the soil, destructive of what was but generative for what will be.

It’s not about “violence good” vs. “violence bad,” but “what is your violence in service of?” I don’t think anyone’s under the impression that violence will not exist in their new world, because, in Fury Road, violence is often justified. As in the real world, people rarely earn their freedom without getting a little bit rowdy.

It’s about who gets to wield violence and to what end. Is your violence about consolidating power or distributing it? Is it possessive or protective? Does it enforce a vertical power structure or a lateral one? This is why I feel saying women represent peace is too simplistic. This is where I feel the movie crosses from ignoring the “violence = masculinity, peace = femininity” coding at the root of so many female characters to countering it:

Furiosa was born to a clan of warrior women, kidnapped, enslaved, and put into service of a warlord. And the wives she fights to liberate have been kept in a cell to keep them from revolting against their captor. Violence - power - is not a thing Joe possess that women learn, or absorb through contact. It’s something he’s expended considerable effort to keep them from. Something he controls their access to the same way he controls the water.

Violence is something he stole from them.

In Fury Road, violence is egalitarian, and any imbalance between who is its owner it and who is subject to it is an unnatural state imposed from without. Joe, patriarchy itself, forces women into subservient roles to dissuade them from reclaiming what is theirs by rights. Violence is human, the vicarious thrill of watching violence is human, and empathy with those who enact violence in service of a righteous cause is human. The idea that any of these things are male is a product of men - warlords, movie producers, audiences - overly-invested in a narrative, because the narrative benefits them.

I would like to dub Furiosa The Avenging Feminine, a new trope: The woman who takes back what’s hers. The woman who fights because it’s her right to fight and against men who tell her it’s not. The woman who makes no affordances to men in the audience and implicates them in her struggle if they don’t like it. The woman who fights to bring the same freedom to other women. I would like to dub this a new archetype, because I think it’s one the action film sorely needs, and I selfishly want another Fury Road. That’s what I would like to do, but wishing doesn’t make it so.

I can, if I try, point to a few characters who have some of the necessary qualities, but it’s not enough to make a pattern. Tropes aren’t tropes just because I say they are. The Avenging Feminine remains, not unprecedented, but all too rare.

Fury Road cannot, on its own, reclaim the action movie… but all it takes to make a trend is volume. If people keep asking, “What if the answer to this question is ‘yes?’” and keep imagining what that movie would look like, maybe folks can get their heads around the idea that violence is not masculine by nature, only by custom.

And, with enough time, enough guns, enough cars, enough explosions, customs can change.