#i experienced so much during those eight years and you can see it reflected in the characters

[friendofthecrows]

TW extremely triggering dark topic but with a positive message, I promise. I just needed to get this out somewhere.

It's not about whether you deserve to be happy. "You deserve to be happy" type messages never rung true to me, because sure, other people do. But me, I've been told I'm a monster, that I deserve to die. But very recently, as in today, I've realized it isn't about that. It's about whether you can be happy. If you can manage it. If you can scrape together moments of joy, then you should. Whether you deserve it or not, you can be happy, and you will, and that is worth it. All that matters is that it is possible.

You have to be alive to see if you can.

[spencerreidswhore187]

Checkmate (Part One)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

TW: Death, violence, brief mentions of kidnapping, rape, alcohol/substance abuse and guns.

A/N: Hi! This is my first Spencer Reid fanfic and I’ve also not proof read it so please don’t judge if it’s not very good. It’s inspired/named after the song Checkmate by Conan Gray and influenced a little by the film Mr and Mrs Smith.

“I’m sorry Reid,” Emily whispered. When the team found out, they had to draw straws in order to decide who’d be the one to tell Spencer. Penelope had tears in her eyes and Emily chewed her nails down to the finger. None of them wanted to be the one to break his heart, not after Meave.

Spencer had experienced heartbreak before but not like this. Whereas before, when he watched the girl he loved get shot, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It hurt him so much, like a physical wound. But now? His heart was fine and, yet, it were as if the rest of his organs had shut down. He couldn’t feel anything. He was floating. He could see Emily’s lips moving but all he could hear was your voice, playing over and over and over again in his head.

Spencer remembered the day he told you that he loved you as though it was yesterday. It was late at night, stars splattered across the midnight sky; your legs were draped over his as you lay stretched across Spencer’s sofa. You both had spent the day binging the Star Wars franchise for what was probably the a hundredth (in release order, much to Spencer’s dismay.) You’d looked so beautiful with the crimson and azure lights reflected from the lightsabers on the TV dancing across your skin.

Your mouth was full of pistachio ice cream when the words slipped out, “I love you.” Spencer recalled the way your eyes widened - as if no one had ever said those words to you before. “I love you y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Your lips stretched into a soft smile.

“I love you, too, Spence. More than anything, never forget that.”

Spencer would have sacrificed anything to go back to that moment: every IQ point, every novel in his possession, his role in the FBI. But no matter what happened, Spencer could not turn back time. He could not return to a time before he knew you were a killer.

—————————————————————

“He’s a fucking FBI agent.” Ben spat.

“No he’s not,” you protested, “he’s a surgeon.”

It’s why he had so many spontaneous shifts, why he’d suddenly have to leave in the middle of the night or during a date, it’s why he’d sometimes be gone for long periods of time.

You hated the way Ben laughed at you. You hated Ben. Full stop.

“How can you be so ignorant y/n. You are so god damn naive.”

“He’s a doctor. I swear.” Spencer wouldn’t lie to you. He’d promised you, the night he said he loved you, that he would never lie to you.

Ben slung an arm around your neck and pulled you into him, overwhelming you with the vile scent of alcohol and piss.

“Then fucking explain this,” he grinned, showing you a photo of your boyfriend. You lurched forward as you read the headline of the article: ‘Dr Spencer Reid of Quantico’s Behaviour Analysis Unit’.

It hurt. So much. This betrayal consumed you. You shoved your boss off of you and vomited. You could hear Ben’s laugh reverberating off the grim walls of the basement you were in as he stumbled away.

You scrubbed at your lips, trying to rid yourself of taste.

Your boyfriend, your best friend, worked for the FBI. And you were a killer.

You were eight years old when it happened, they’d grabbed you off the street as you were walking home from school. The police would have found you if they’d looked. Then men go took you did not wear masks, nor did they bother disguising themselves or the van they tied you up in the back of. It had taken your parents four days to realise you were gone. It had taken the police two hours before they gave up searching. No one had cared enough to find the little lost child. No one had ever cared about you, until Spencer.

You learnt quickly that the only way to survive was to do what they say. Deal drugs, steal, you didn’t care. You would do anything to live. And these men exploited that. They manipulated you. They corrupted you. They were the first people you killed. You slept better than ever that night, in an abandoned alley. Alone. Free.

That’s where Ben had found you. Ben, the leader of a minor gang, paid you to go after those who’d wronged him. The people who broke his rules - rapists, pedophiles, murderers. You enjoyed being a vigilante at first. But soon you learnt you could hurt them in way worse than death…Ben agreed with you.

You would frame them for crimes, rob them, plant drugs in their possession. You would stand from the sidelines at watch their lives collapse.

And now it was your turn. This was a strange sense of Karma.

You and Spencer played a game of Chess every night before you went to sleep. You were waiting for him to come home as you slipped a vail of hemlock into his drink and placed the glass next to the board. Staring at pieces, you heard the front door open.

“Checkmate,” you whispered.

—————————————————————

Spencer pressed his loaded gun firmly behind his back, breathing heavily as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. He knew what would be waiting for him, the same thing that awaits him every evening when he returns from work.

You were sat crossed legged in your chair, leaning over the chess board analysing the pieces. You’d been playing this game for the last three weeks - both of you always managed to escape being checked.

You had a glass of water in hand and there was a glass for him next to his seat. Neither of you drank alcohol. Spencer had been sober since his drug addiction and you refused to drink after he told you that he was ten years sober. It was things like that, the small things you did, that made Spencer believe you were gentle and kind. He chided himself for being so stupid.

You looked up grinning at Spencer who was leaning against the doorway. He loved that smile. He hated himself for still loving it.

“Hey Spence.”

How could you be so glib when your hands are covered in the blood of innocents?

“Hi y/n,” he said, fist tightening around the gun.

“How was work? I saw or the news there was crash near the hospital. Did many people get-” you were interrupted by the sound of a gun cocking.

You abruptly stood up and stumbled away from Spencer.

“W-what are you doing.” You tried your best to sound scared when he pointed the gun at you.

“What do you think I’m doing? You are a criminal. You are a fucking murder!” Spencer did not feel guilty when you flinched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Baby, please, I’ve never heart anyone. Please put the gun down and we can talk.”

Spencer had never noticed your tell before but it was clearer than ever, now. You chewed on the corner of your lip. This was all the confirmation he needed.

He would not be played like a pawn.

“Cut the act, y/n.” You searched his eyes but they were void of any emotion. Her loving Spencer was gone. Dead.

“What act?”

“You know what bloody act. No more games.”

Fine. You couldn’t help but think that things were finally getting fun.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Spencer, you’re an FBI agent. You have a code of conduct. You have morals.” You mocked, disdain evident in your words. “That’s right, isn’t it? You have doctorates but you are not an actual doctor. What you are is a fucking liar.”

That was the first time you’d ever called him Spencer. It had always been ‘Spence’. The facade was truly gone and he felt wretched.

How could you use him like that?

He walked towards you, pressing the barrel of his gun against your temple, forcing you to walk backwards until you hit the wall.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you repeated.

And you were right. Despite Emily telling him to shoot if necessary, Spencer could not bring himself to do it. He was better than you. He had to be better than you.

“Yes I am,” he whispered.

He was not surprised when he felt the cold metal of a blade kiss his neck. Spencer had walked into your trap.

He was surprised, however, when a lone tear slipped down your cheek. His fingers itched to brush it away.

You looked up at him, “did it mean nothing to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This. All of it. You knew who I was…what I was the whole time and still you made me love you. You made me believe that you actually loved me.”

This was perhaps the first time Dr Spencer Reid had ever been confused.

“I-what?”

“Why did you have to make me love you?” You breathed.

“Y/N. I don’t understand.”

“You lied about being a doctor. You were undercover. You orchestrated this entire relationship just so you could arrest me. I want to, no, I need to know why.”

“That’s not true. I lied to protect you. My job gets people hurt, it gets people killed!” Spencer cried, “I lied to protect you!”

You pulled your knife away from his neck.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You have a gun aimed at my fucking head!”

Spencer dropped the gun and kicked it away from the two of you. You were so close that your noses kept brushing with every movement.

He inhaled sharply, “how many people have you killed?”

“I-none.”

“Margaret Sheppard, Claire Daugherty, Travis Smith, Lance Chen and Aidan Keith. Do those names ring any bells?” Spencer pressed into you, his long fingers curled around your upper arms.

Spencer tried not to think of the nights of the murders, the ones you spent as a knot of limbs - not knowing where one of you began and the other ended. He tried not to think of the way you would gasp or how, afterwards, you would pull him to you, leaning your forehead against his, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The betrayal was the most painful thing Spencer had ever experienced.

“I did not kill any of them. I didn’t,” you protested.

“So explain to me how they all ended up dead within days of each other. Their necks slit and an ‘x’ cut into their wrists?”

“Spencer, I promise you, I did not kill any of those people.”

“It’s your MO y/n. We know it was you.” Or, he thought he did. You weren’t chewing your lip. “You’re telling me that you have never killed anyone?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me!” He shouted, slamming his hand against the wall. “Please. Please just tell me the truth.”

“I have killed people before. I have killed to survive. I have killed because I had to. I have killed because I wanted to. I have killed for fun. But I have not murdered anyone in the last three years. I have not taken a single life since the day I met you!”

Spencer couldn’t breathe.

You continued, “Margaret Sheppard drowned her newborn baby because it was crying too loud. Daugherty ran a sex trafficking ring, Smith and Chen took turns raping their 15 year old daughters. Aidan Keith beat his wife black and blue. They are…were…rich. They were going to get away with it. I did what I was told to, I made them stop.

“I stole millions of dollars from Sheppard. She had no choice but to claim bankruptcy. I helped every single girl escape Claire Daugherty before I put her in a coma. I planted very incriminating evidence on Travis Smith and Lance Chen - evidence that landed them both a life sentence in a high security prison. And Keith? I wanted to kill him. He was one of the men who kidnapped me when I was a child, but I didn’t. I saved him for last. I destroyed what mattered most to him: his reputation.

“I lied and I stole and I hurt but I did not kill any of them. I would not have done anything that would have risked my relationship with you, Spencer.”

He pulled away from you and started pacing around the room. You stood frozen as he reached for his drink.

I have killed to survive. Those words were replaying in his head (curse his eidetic memory). He wanted to know what you meant. He needed to know. What did you mean by one of the men who kidnapped me? Neither Emily or Rossi had told Spencer any of this. None of the BAU had. He mentally went through all of the cold case kidnappings from around eighteen years ago in the area but none stuck out. Were you lying? Was this some elaborate trick? A trap? His head was spinning.

Spencer reached for the untouched glass of water next to the chess board and took a sip.

You lurched foreword and pulled the cup out of his hand, throwing it against the wall. Tiny fragments of glass flew around the room as it shattered, water staining the wall.

It all made sense to Spencer, in that moment, as his eyelids grew heavy, you had poisoned the drink. That was why you had kept glancing at the glass. But, if you wanted to kill him, why did you stop him from drinking more? Why did you break the glass? The last thing he did before the world went dark was whisper “I love you.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Part two soon ◡̈

[kataraslove]

katara: “do you hear that?”

aang: “sounds like it’s coming from over there...”

for kataang week day 3: post canon @kataang-week​

newly wedded aang and katara (now sporting a cute little bob) were travelling across the world for their honeymoon. on their way to the kingdom of omashu, the two decided to stop and revisit the cave of two lovers. as aang and katara leaned in for a quick kiss by the entrance of the cave, they heard a blood-curling scream come from inside. immediately pulling away, the couple shared a suspicious look with each other before deciding to investigate.

katara cautiously grabbed her pouch as aang drew out a small flame to lead the way. however, the waterbender stopped her husband to remind him that the tunnels were filled with fluorescent crystals that glowed in the dark. 

“oh yeah,” aang recalled. he looked down at the flame dwindling in his palm. “i’ll put it out when we get further in there. if we hear screaming again, we’ll be able to find out where it came from.” 

“you can also use your earth bending this time around.” 

aang nodded. “that i can.” the gentle lines of his face - reserved especially for his wife - quickly switched up to the avatar look, the signature look that he bore whenever there was danger and people in need of his help. 

“let’s go.”

(continued under the cut, 2.4k words)

the broad sunlight of the summer day was reduced to a small crevice against their backs, as the two lovers made their way into the shadows of the labyrinth. their primary light source came from aang’s flame, which had grown brighter the farther they travelled. the avatar could not help but become a little bit mesmerized with the vivid red and orange hues that danced in his left palm, the warmth that occupied his hand having stretched out to his entire body. the flame synchronized so perfectly well with his heartbeat. fire is life, he recalled the words of the sun warrior chief. not just destruction. 

aang nearly chuckled out loud. firebending came so naturally to him now - almost as natural as his airbending. to think that there was ever a time that he had outright hated the element and vowed to never learn it, even if it had meant jeopardizing his avatarhood.

however, a small voice crept to the back of his mind, uncomfortably reminding of the exact reason as to why he initially refused to learn the element at the age of twelve. it was the same reason that brought shame and guilt inside his gut - even eight years later - whenever the memory unexpectedly crossed his mind. what he had done to katara on that day, how he had refused to listen to jeong jeong’s advice and lost control of his fire, the image of her fresh burns - it was all there, forever smeared across his brain and heart as a painful reminder. no matter how many times katara had insisted that good had come from that day through the discovery of her healing abilities, aang could never wash away the trauma associated with that event.

he inhaled sharply. it won’t happen again. he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he had full control over all the elements now. fire was energy, he had learned, and life.

sparing a glance at katara, who had been awfully quiet since they got into the cave, he noticed that his wife was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. the trouble in her beautiful features was easily detectable by the bright flames within his hand. he moved closer to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers in an attempt to comfort her. “you okay?”

she met his eyes, and he could see the hint of fear reflected in them. “aang, i’m worried.”

“you have nothing to be worried about,” aang reassured her with a small smile. “whatever it is, or whoever it is, we can take ‘em.”

katara shook her head. “i’m not worried about the who. we’ve probably dealt with far worse than whatever is lingering in this cave. but i - aang, what if it’s bad?”

he frowned, confused. “what if what’s bad, then?”

she studied her hands carefully. her hands were the hands of a fighter, of a healer. the same hands who had resurrected an avatar back to life and saved a firelord from near death, while dismantling another firelord from the throne. he felt the sudden urge to draw her hands in his own, to hold her tight enough to ease away her fears.

“what if there’s a bunch of dead bodies stashed away in this tunnel, rotting away for days or even weeks?” she answered in alarm, eyes widening at the dark path ahead of them. “or, what if there’s a bunch of people lying around in pain, on the brink of death, and I don’t have enough water to save them all?”

his eyes turned to the road ahead. he saw nothing, except for earth and more earth. but he knew better than to dismiss those kind of fears. 

“that wouldn’t be your fault.” he responded gently. “we’ll do our best to help, to make sure that whoever is out there is safe and unharmed. but if they do happen to be harmed - or worse, dead - and we’ve tried everything that we could,” he shuttered out a breath at the imagery. “i don’t want you to blame yourself for whoever you can’t save, katara.”

“and i don’t want you to blame yourself, aang.” she placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked on. he tried to ignore the immediate sweep of panic churning in his stomach at her proximity to the fire. if he envisioned a future with both katara and firebending, he would have to get used to accepting that she would be around the times when he required the element. 

“i know you feel a sense of responsibility, as the avatar, to ensure that the world is kept safe,” she continued on. her voice softened, a sad tone. “i know it upsets you when it isn’t.”

“wasn’t i the one consoling you just a second ago?” aang joked, deflecting. 

“we’re consoling each other.” katara insisted with a small smile. the corners of her mouth dropped at her next statement: “i know you don’t like to talk about it, aang, the stress and pressure that you feel. but i also know how it keeps you up at night. why you choose to sometimes spend long periods of time meditating.”

just like that, she had flipped the switch on him in the way that only she knew how. katara was undoubtedly right. of course he had seen and experienced his fair amount of injustice and morbidity; they all had. but the guilt of not being able to do anything about it - to know that people all over the world were counting on him to end their suffering and plight and despair, while there were many days when all he could do was sit in lavish cushions arguing endlessly with politicians who could not relate to the earth kingdom boy who had nothing to eat, or to the water tribe girl who had lost her parents, or to the air nomad who was the sole survivor of an entire culture - ate away at his heart and mind at every minute of every hour. even now, when he was supposed to be enjoying his blissful vacation with his wife.

“aang.” he felt katara lightly pull his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her before his mind could wander down the same dangerous road that it had so many days and nights before. she stopped the two in their tracks, the light from his palm illuminating their darkened features.

the fire reflected back in the indigo of her eyes, embodying the energy and intensity and life that was katara, his best friend, his saviour. suddenly, he was transported back to a time during the war, when he had just been a fidgety twelve year-old boy staring up at his fourteen year-old best friend. his heart thumped furiously against his chest the closer he inched to her face. when their lips met, he felt electricity course through his veins and wondered if the warmth that pooled in his stomach was what love felt like. 

as he caught her lips in his own again, this time at the age of twenty, he could confirm - a memoir to his twelve year old self - that the warmth was indeed love. but love was also so much more, he came to realize over the years. love was the cautious hands of a fourteen year-old girl spending weeks at his side, healing him from his coma, sobbing in despair and frustration when he would not wake up. love was the way that he had thrown his arms around her waist, and she around his neck, relief flooding each other’s veins at the knowledge that they were both alive and safe and together after his defeat of ozai and her defeat of azula. love was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his, palm pressed to palm and fingers intertwined, as the two watched the early formations of republic city from their home, vowing to leave a lasting legacy on a world where benders and non-benders of all types could live together in safety and harmony.

love was also the brief kiss in an abandoned cave that said a million more things than he could ever say in words. 

when the two pulled back, he noted the way that her eyes twinkled up at him under the fluorescent light. the crystals shone overhead, leading them down a familiar path, just as how it had done when he was twelve. aang checked his left palm and realized that he had extinguished his flame during the kiss. 

katara’s smile reached her eyes when she grabbed for his hand, pulling him along. “funny,” she said, bemused. “that thing you said when we were kids. guess it held up all these years, didn’t it?”

“what thing?”

“oh, you know,” she replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. “you choosing to kiss me over dying - ”

he groaned. she was never going to let him live that one, was she?

“did i say that?” aang feigned innocence. “i can’t quite recall. maybe what my awkward twelve-year old self had meant to say, instead, was that the thought of not being able to kiss you is just so unbearable that i would rather have chosen death.”

“mmhmmm. sure you had.” a blush slowly crept up her cheeks, betraying her sarcastic tone. success.

“good thing that hasn’t happened yet, though. the not being able to kiss you anymore part.” he paused, adding as an afterthought: “the death part, too, if we’re being honest.”

“don’t speak so soon. what if there’s a serial killer in here?” she hushed him, looking around conspiratorially. 

“you’d rather a serial killer kiss you instead of your own husband? ouch.” 

she smacked his arm. “aang! i’m serious. with the recent bender supremacy uprisings going on in major cities of the earth kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. what’s stopping a bender supremacist from kidnapping a bunch of non-benders in omashu and dumping their bodies in this cave right now?”

“well, for starters, we would’ve heard by now if that were the case, wouldn’t we have? there’d be rumours, like with what happened with hama. so far, there hasn’t been any reports of mysterious non-bender disappearances in the cities where the uprisings are taking place. definitely not any in omashu.”

a dark look settled across katara’s face at the mention of the estranged bloodbender. “an earth bender supremacist could be dragging bodies from the city and burying them in the rubble of the tunnels. no one would even think to look because the legend says that the cave is cursed.”

aang scratched his head, suddenly very wary about his surroundings. his eyes scanned everywhere around him, from the plethora of crystals that provided them light on top to the solid stone that held the cave in place, trying to spot any semblance of a decomposing body. just as before, he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

while he knew that katara’s suspicions had merit to them, his mind still hesitated over the idea of a bender supremacist trapping people in caves. he would have heard something by now, if that were the case. besides, they were drawing all of these inferences from a scream that he wasn’t even sure came from a human. the high-pitched sound could have belonged to a species of wolfbats, for all they knew. and even if it were to emerge out of a person, who was to say that it was connected to the victim of a bender supremacist murderer? it could have been from a lost and hungry traveler stuck in the cave for days, unsure of their way out. or perhaps it was from someone whose foot was trapped under rubble, screaming out in sheer pain. maybe it even belonged to a villager being chased by an angry spirit.

he walked over to one of the walls, running his hand over the sharp rocks that pricked at his skin. or perhaps, he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth, it was his own refusal to accept that he was failing the world again that led him to dismiss such possibilities. given the political climate, it was entirely possible that bender supremacists were using their bending to hide bodies within the cave. he just wasn’t aware of any of it because it was all taking place underneath his nose, while he remained in blissful ignorance with the women he loved on what was supposed to be his vacation.

aang closed his eyes. he focused on the vibrations emitting from the ground, trying to detect if there was anything that could give him a clue, like a direction to the source of the scream. he was even searching for the large footsteps of badger moles or the fluttering wings of wolfbats. while he was no toph, his earthbending had vastly improved over the years to the point where he had gotten very good at perceiving the world around and underneath him through vibrations. but this time around, he was sensing absolutely nothing. 

well, not entirely nothing. aang noted that some parts of the earth below his hand felt kind of fresh. and quite warm. it didn’t take an earth bender to realize that their texture and temperature were evidently different from the rocks comprising the rest of the cave. this new formation of rock - whatever it was - also felt very familiar to him, almost like he had dealt with this type before. 

his eyes widened in recognition. it was rock that had hardened after the eruption of a volcano. and not just any ordinary eruption; a special kind of eruption that didn’t require any volcano whatsoever.

lavabending.

“hey, katara. would you be able to come over here? i think i found something.”

aang’s words were interrupted by the sudden howl of a blood-curling scream. this time, he had felt the vibrations perfectly through the earth, and spirits did they hurt. he winced in pain, his ears ringing, reflexively removing his hand off the ground.

the screaming did not seem to stop the longer the seconds passed. multiple more emitted from the path ahead in unison, echoing off the chambers of the cave. his heart pounded. there was no denying that the cries had unmistakably belonged to humans. 

katara already had a stream of water out from her pouch. she had sprang into action, pointing in the precise direction that the noise was coming from. 

“this way,” she shouted, running ahead. 

be careful, he couldn’t help think as he trailed after her.

--

this art was adapted from the following comic panel in imbalance part 2:

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

     BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 1 / 4

» pt. 2

Introduction

BTS Universe Story, a mobile game published by Netmarble, was released on September 24, 2020. While the majority of the app is essentially a sandbox and engine for users to create their own interactive stories, it also includes official and canon BU content. The first eight segments were introduced between the release date and December 2020, gathered under the title The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>.

“I’m Fine” is half of the I’m Fine/Save Me ambigram introduced in the Love Yourself era. Notably, all of the BU content available in the game so far falls between events of the webtoon Save Me (also called HYYH0 in its logo) and The Notes 1—chronologically, that is, while bearing in mind that time resets to the morning of 11 April Year 22 whenever SeokJin fails to avert a tragedy among his six friends. I want to assure anyone who is unable to play the game that you are not missing any new, major plot beats from the overall BU narrative. Instead, the stories provide more insight into the motivations and consequences of SeokJin’s decisions in the earlier time loops, as well as more depth to individual characters and their circumstances.

The goal of this guide is to summarize each of the eight stories and highlight noteworthy details, especially if they are not yet present in other BU media. Within each story (which I often refer to as an arc, due to their character-focused nature), episodes must be played successively, but the stories themselves can be played in any order. I will present them over a series of posts in the order they are listed under the <I’M FINE> heading. The Prologue and NamJoon’s arc are free to play; the rest are paid content. Please note that due to the app’s Terms & Conditions, I will not include in-game footage here. The images in this guide are sourced from the official trailers/videos and the live action MVs as appropriate.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Game Mechanic

Before diving into the summaries, I would like to address the primary mechanic of the game: the user’s control of character choices at designated moments in the stories. It’s a primary marketing point that the player can influence the progression of the narrative, with a frequent in-app tip also declaring, “stories’ endings can vary depending on your choices.” The latter is not strictly true—and it cannot be true due to the structure of the game. Choices are presented within most (not all) episodes, but each episode is an isolated unit: episode 2 provides the same content regardless of what you choose in episode 1. Since the consequences of your decisions are not cumulative, each episode reaches the same ending, and each decision inevitably rejoins the “main” story path (effectively reducing the script size).

So what is the point of this mechanic? While the system is not nearly as complex as what major platform titles are capable of nowadays (I suspect due in large part to the story creation portion of the game), it does foster a sense of interaction with the narrative that isn’t present in static visual media like comics or film. The episodes with choices also have incentive for replay to discover the impact of changing a character’s dialogue or action. Sometimes the differences between the outcomes are inconsequential, but other times you unearth new details, interactions, or memories that are missing in the other path.

I say this partially in reaction to all of the comments and tweets I read for the game trailers and even Smeraldo Book twitter’s choose-your-own-adventure style teasers with The Notes 2 excerpts released last summer. Many users expressed excitement, through words or memes, about finally being able to give the boys the happy ending they deserved. I don’t fault anyone for wanting that happy ending—I wish for it, too. But no matter what the rather overzealous marketing has claimed, I don’t believe that the canon ending of BU is ever meant to be in the audience’s control. But I do feel that this mechanism fits the BU narrative. It echoes the “countless loops” SeokJin has experienced in an effort to save his friends, the choices he must make at every crossroad, and the butterfly effect those actions have on all of their lives. I think it is reasonable to interpret the simple branching paths in the game as alternatives SeokJin has explored across multiple loops in his struggle to find the “right” way forward. I’d love to hear if you have theories of your own!

Prologue

The prologue is a brief episode introducing SeokJin’s repeated struggle and failure to save his friends. He wakes up yet again in his bed on 11 April Year 22, the beginning of the time loop. After reflecting on the tragedies that keep befalling the others, SeokJin realizes that he has only tried to fix the problems he can see. He wonders: “Have I tried to understand the root of my friends’ misfortunes? How much do I really know about my friends? Maybe I was never brave enough to confront their real scars and the worlds they’ve been living in. But I need to do it. Because it may be the key to saving them all.”

How to Offer a Hand

In this story, SeokJin attempts to prevent NamJoon’s arrest after he gets in a fight with a rude customer at Naeri Gas Station, his place of work. The first episode opens on the night of 11 April Year 22 with NamJoon curling his fists, glaring as crumpled bills lie untouched on the pavement. (The money looks similar to the shot from the I Need U MV.) SeokJin reaches for his shoulder, but NamJoon shrugs him off and strides away to punch the customer who deliberately dropped the bills for him to pick up. The gas station owner runs over at the customer’s furious shouts and orders NamJoon to apologize. He refuses, and police officers soon arrive and charge him with assault. No one listens to SeokJin’s protests that the customer started it first. The man sneers as NamJoon enters the police car. “Do you even have money for a settlement? Hey, you’re done for.” NamJoon is sentenced to prison again, and SeokJin hears glass shattering before the loop resets.

Rising from his bed on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin reflects on his failed efforts so far. He has hit the customer’s car, called for NamJoon in the middle of the incident, and stopped the fight himself, the latter of which caused his friends to avoid him later. The fight has even escalated; the details are unspecified, but the audience is provided an ominous shot of SeokJin speaking to a police officer alone at the scene. NamJoon is not the kind of person who would normally respond to that kind of provocation with his fists. SeokJin realizes that he cannot merely stop the fight but must discover and fix the true cause of it.

With this in mind, SeokJin heads to Naeri Gas Station during the day and tries to engage NamJoon. This is their first time meeting since they both returned to Songju, although SeokJin has experienced it in many loops already. “It’s been a while,” he greets (as he does at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV). Before SeokJin can dig deeper in their conversation, NamJoon is called away by his boss. SeokJin enters the small employee break room which serves as NamJoon’s living space when he’s not at the container, hoping to find some clues about his friend’s life. SeokJin locates something bundled in newspapers. If the player chooses to open it, he sees a strange shard of glass inside that may belong to a car or motorcycle headlight. He continues on, finding the book Cosmos by Carl Sagan and a notebook. SeokJin hesitates over the invasion of privacy but decides to read it since he needs all the information that he can gather. The journal entries detail NamJoon’s daily life since returning to Songju: his work at the gas station isn’t too bad despite the occasional rude customer; he purchased a book and hopes to get more in the future; he picked up a second job at a wedding hall to help catch up on bills; his brother NamHyeon got in trouble again, leading to more expenses; and his dad’s health has worsened, with hospital bills after an emergency surgery rising to levels that the family cannot afford. SeokJin knew that NamJoon was the de facto head of household due to his father’s illness but was unaware that it was to this degree. He feels sorry for NamJoon yet is also impressed by his maturity, for NamJoon never writes how difficult his situation is.

NamJoon arrives and asks what SeokJin is doing in the room. If the player chooses to answer “reading” instead of “just sitting there,” SeokJin privately observes that the conversation flows more easily when they talk about books. NamJoon says he must leave and declines when SeokJin offers to wait for him there. SeokJin knocks over a pile of books along with money and receipts as he stands. He thinks it is unusual that NamJoon picks up the books before the money. The books seem to be more than a hobby to NamJoon, holding special meaning. Walking to his car, SeokJin wonders if it is pride or determination not to falter that keeps NamJoon from journaling his grievances. He realizes that money is a constant source of frustration and misery to NamJoon, and that’s why he can’t stomach being insulted over the customer’s dropped money. SeokJin’s new plan is to prevent NamJoon from picking up the money. He also calls Palgok County Hospital and offers to pay the patient bill for NamJoon’s father. Anticipating that NamJoon will be angry if he finds out, SeokJin says the payer is Songho Foundation.

That night, SeokJin returns to the gas station with the excuse that he forgot to fill up earlier. The luxury car arrives with a honk, and NamJoon hurries over to assist. He shakes with anger when the customer drops the money on the ground. “Why aren’t you picking it up? You don’t want it? What’s with that look? Pretty arrogant for a part-timer, aren’t you?” goads the customer. SeokJin intervenes. Whether the player chooses to have him advise NamJoon not to pick it up or to order the customer to pick it up himself, the end result is the same. SeokJin asks the customer, “Why are you harassing a pitiful part-timer?” The customer drives away, and something about NamJoon seems off. His face is expressionless, not mad or humiliated. “SeokJin, you…” He stops. “Never mind. Thank you for your help.” The words sound difficult for him to speak.

SeokJin believes that he has saved NamJoon, although this ending feels sloppy. He continues on in the loop to rescue JungKook and later YoonGi, but uneasiness plagues him. Though he meant to help NamJoon with his actions, SeokJin wonders if he hurt him instead. On 5 May Year 22, he returns to the gas station and follows NamJoon when he leaves work early. NamJoon enters a bookstore, and SeokJin sneaks in after him to watch from afar. He overhears employees talking about NamJoon, worrying that he might dirty the pages of the book he’s perusing. NamJoon is too absorbed in the book to notice one of them calling for his attention. SeokJin recalls a memory from their school days when he found NamJoon reading alone in their classroom hideout: he asked why NamJoon read so diligently, and his friend explained that he found it comforting to empty his thoughts of everything else while focused on the book. In the present, SeokJin wonders how he forgot how much books mean to NamJoon. He sacrifices some of his food and transportation budget to afford them, but they enable him “to endure the weight of the world he’s forced to bear on his shoulders.” After realizing this, SeokJin wants to apologize for carelessly sympathizing with the reality that NamJoon has weathered alone.

The next episode is from NamJoon’s perspective, revealing his excitement over being able to purchase a book for the first time in two months. He wants to buy two but can only afford one. The employee at the register sighs and asks why he leafed through a book he wasn’t going to buy. NamJoon apologizes, and she mutters, “So dirty.” He notices his reflection, clothes worn and smelling of gasoline, and realizes she’s talking about him, not the book. He tries to shake off these depressing thoughts, but he is still not accustomed to this treatment despite experiencing it regularly at work. As NamJoon begins to exit the store, the security alarm goes off. The employees demand to check his bag despite his insistence that he didn’t steal anything. Their certainty of his theft angers him. NamJoon allows them to look through his bag, and they are suspicious of the like-new book in it which he brought from home. One begins to call the police until SeokJin appears, vouching for NamJoon by saying he saw everything. The employees accept that the alarm malfunctioned and excuse their suspicions as a mistake.

Outside, SeokJin asks NamJoon if he is all right. NamJoon is thankful but wonders how SeokJin materialized right when he needed him. “How’d you find me here?” he asks aloud. SeokJin explains that he happened to notice him while walking through the neighborhood. NamJoon wonders if it’s because they said goodbye on a weird note last time. He thanks him and turns to leave. SeokJin calls after him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you that day at the gas station. It was a mistake to have called you pitiful. If my rash actions hurt you, I’m really sorry.” NamJoon accepts his apology, believing it to be sincere, and says that things would have turned out a lot worse if SeokJin had not intervened. Thunder rolls overhead, and NamJoon uses the impending rain as his excuse to depart. He declines SeokJin’s offer of a ride and runs home, feeling his friend’s eyes on him.

Before he can settle down to read at home, NamJoon receives a call from his cheerful mother. She thanks him for paying off the entire hospital bill. NamJoon is perplexed and asks what’s on the receipt, since he didn’t pay it. His mother wants to leave it be, but he insists that they investigate so they don’t get in trouble or sued. She reads that the Songho Foundation is credited as the payer. NamJoon calls the hospital, introducing himself as the guardian for Kim YoungMin, but they can’t transfer him to the administrative department at this time. Disappointed, he looks up the foundation’s website, unable to recall why it sounds familiar. He wonders why a scholarship foundation in the city would get involved with him. Spotting photos of a recent launch ceremony on the site, he recognizes a few people: Songju High School’s principal, the familiar-looking face of the foundation’s chairman, and SeokJin. First, NamJoon forces a laugh, and then it’s difficult for him to breathe. He thinks that SeokJin really had pitied him at that moment. The only thing keeping NamJoon going is the idea of getting through life on his own strength. Why does he have to live like this?

The last episode opens on 5 May back in SeokJin’s perspective. He is confident now that he has saved NamJoon, although it occurs to him that a better alternative may have been to simply pick up the money himself instead of stepping forward. (This decision is enacted in a later loop and depicted in the Euphoria MV.) While reflecting on what comes next to save his other friends, he receives a text from NamJoon. “What’s your account number? I’ll pay you back for the hospital bills. I don’t need your help. I’ll handle my concerns on my own.” Heart sinking, SeokJin wonders how he found out. With a sense of foreboding, he tries calling NamJoon, but no one answers. SeokJin texts him back, pretending that he doesn’t understand, and tells NamJoon to call him. SeokJin’s second attempt connects while he’s gathering his car keys to visit the container. “That’s enough. Just send the account number over text,” NamJoon instructs. SeokJin coaxes him to talk for a moment, and NamJoon asks flatly, “Are you going to apologize again?” SeokJin attempts to salvage the situation, but his friend turns cold when he insists that NamJoon is misunderstanding and that he just wanted to help. “So, why? Why are you helping me?! Yeah, you’re always a good person. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m the one misunderstanding.” SeokJin apologizes again. NamJoon refuses his request to meet in person. “No, I thought maybe there was a reason for everything you did… But I guess I misconstrued it. I’ll pay you back, so I’d prefer if you stopped contacting me.” Long after the call ends, SeokJin stands holding his phone, feeling that the glass is going to break at any moment. He wants to believe that it’s not over, but hope is slipping through his fingertips.

The episode finishes in NamJoon’s perspective. On 8 May and 9 May, he accepts part-time delivery work and reflects on his three jobs. Whenever he thinks he’s at his breaking point, he focuses on his new goal of returning SeokJin’s money. On 10 May, NamJoon wakes up to his buzzing phone and is called in to work. On a scooter, he passes by a bus stop and notices graffiti. (This is the same bus stop, with matching graffiti, that appears in the Highlight Reel.) Mesmerized, he wonders if it’s TaeHyung’s. As soon as NamJoon looks up, the scooter’s brake fails, and he crashes. The shattered glass on the cold pavement reminds him of the headlight shard and the kid who looked like TaeHyung. (So the piece of glass SeokJin saw in April was really a memento NamJoon retrieved from the scene of the crash in the mountain town, where the delivery boy whom he privately called TaeHyung died. This event is described in NamJoon’s 17 December Year 21 entry in The Notes 1.) NamJoon’s vision grows blurry, and the distant sound of an ambulance doesn’t come any closer.

The arc concludes there, but it obviously marks another reset for SeokJin. It is interesting to note that in this failed loop, NamJoon suffers the same fate that he narrowly avoided in the snowy mountain town before returning to Songju.

Please stay tuned for the next Highlights post featuring JungKook and YoonGi!

[neokad]

Phantasy Star II - The 1989 JRPG that could

(This post is dedicated to @kuukigajan, my best friend, whom motivated me to post here again, so... I hope you'll enjoy this!)

This game. This freaking game.

I'm gonna say it right now: this post will contain massive spoilers about pretty much everything in Phantasy Star 2's story, so if you do plan on experiencing this game fresh, I strongly advise you to not read this post at all beyond the first paragraph, but... here's the gist of it: Phantasy Star II is one of the most important and groundbreaking JRPGs of its time, and I just did not believe this game was from 1989, at ALL. For that and a few other reasons, it has become one of my new favourite games of all time <3 

In fact, I do want to start with the one big flaw of this adventure so that I can just gush about everything else that's brilliant about PSII. I have to be honest: the dungeon design in this game is horrible. Now to be fair, it does make the many places you visit more memorable, but well... there's a rumor floating around that an actual trainee made the layouts for the dungeons - and since this game was a bit rushed for the Genesis's launch, the devs just didn't have time to replace the... stuff he submitted. And let me tell you, this rumor makes sense: PSII's dungeons are too big, too maze-like, too confusing and also FILLED with strong enemies. And in a game where you don't get a way to save anywhere until the midway point, it can make your adventure very frustrating and potentially grindy because of that... Now I wouldn't say that PSII's nearly as bad in this area as say, the original version of Dragon Warrior or ironically the first Phantasy Star, but the dungeons can totally make you feel like the game's harder than it actually is, at least without a map.

Thankfully, you should never feel bad for using any maps or guides with this game! The execs at SEGA at the time made the very smart decision to include a walkthrough with each copy of the game, including maps, tips, secrets and more! Said guide does encourage youto not look at it as much as possible but... it's totally fair to just use this, without any shame!

And that is a great thing, because... with you armed with this piece of paper, Phantasy Star II can finally show you its actual brilliance.

The game's plot starts off a thousand years after the events of the first Phantasy Star game. Since Alis and her party defeated Dark Force, the inhabitants of the Algol solar system - and its three planets of Palma, Motavia and Dezolis - have enjoyed relative peace. However, at a (to my knowledge) unknown point in time, a computer entity known as Mother Brain has started imposing itself onto mostly Motavia. This, over time, has actually given many benefits to the region: the once deserted wasteland was given rain, water and crops, so that it could finally host viable, comfortable civilizations. The citizens that lived here could finally ditch their (arguably) nomadic, harsh lives in favor of comfort, pleasant weather and more. And most importantly, Mother Brain allowed its citizens, save for a few, to ditch their current jobs and live a life of laziness, without any obligations or pressure to do anything other than well, existence. This is reflected many times during the game through NPC dialogue, too!

It is on such a setting that our protagonist, Rolf, wakes up from a strange nightmare. In it, we see Alis batting Dark Force and struggling in doing so, but as soon as he realizes this, Rolf wakes up in cold sweat. He then proceeds to calm his nerves, realizing that no such dramatic events could possible happen to him - after all, he and many others have been under the universal protection and care of Mother Brain, whom at this point, has provided all of their needs for centuries. He then gets out of bed and goes to the central tower, where we works as an agent in case some things do go wrong.

And gone wrong things have! His superior informs him that biological monsters, which had been created and bred in the Mota biosystems laboratory, have gone rogue and infected the regions of Motavia at a rapid rate. Because of this, Rolf is asked to investigate the cause of this phenomenon. Once he gets home to prepare for his journey, he is ambushed by best girl Nei, who has been rescued by him many months ago from the clutches of a serial killer. She does not want to be left alone anymore, and since she is also worried for Rolf's sefety, asks him to accompany him on the mission. Naturally, Rolf accepts.

Here, I do want to bring up Nei in more detail! She's in fact, the first of PSII's brilliant story-gameplay interactions, and here's why! Nei is in fact, a crossbreed experiment between a human and an unknown animal with cat-like features, but here's the thing: this said experiment was a failure. Because of this, Nei is only one years old, and yet her physical and mental age are progressing way more rapidly than they should. And you can feel this effect on the game itself: she needs way less EXP than any other party member in the game to level up, and because of this she will skyrocket in levels way beyond the rest of your crew... with a catch. Because of the nature of the experiment, the genetic code inside of her is slowly being messed up and corrupted, which not only causes her level ups to be less valuable than anyone else's, but it also becomes an important plot point later...  Unfortunately, despite her absolute cuteness, her status as a half-half made her a victim of bullying, racism and so much more, which is... pretty messed up to bring up at the time not gonna lie o_o

Starting up the journey, the party discovers that rogues have destroyed a neighboring city, and it just so happens that their base is situed at Shure, the first dungeon of the game . One assumption I like to make from this scene is that life has become so easy and careless on Motavia that people just went and did crime out of pure boredom, because life just wasn't thrilling enough anymore with Mother Brain doing everything it could for its inhabitants...

However, upon climbing said tower, Rolf and Nei find out multiple dead rogue bodies, whom have been presumably murdered by the many biomonsters roaming the place. They do, however, manage to find some dynamite and most importantly, a letter. This piece of paper informs our heroes that the daughter of a Darum, the very same person that tried to murder Nei months ago, is held captive in another tower, which explains why he turned to crime in the first place. They then decide to do the obvious, which is to rescue daughter Teim in her captivity location. Once they meet up with her, she explains her desire to talk to her father to set things straight and sway him from the life he's been getting into, as well as hide her from the surviving rogue members with the help of a veil. Our group manages to meet up with Darum, but... her daughter asks the party to stay put, as she does not want them to interfere with her as she explains things to her father. However, in the heat of the moment, she forgets to remove her veil, which causes Darum to not recognize her. In his confusion, he murders her own flesh and blood and sits there, stunned, as he watches the reason he caused many untold atrocities... wither away below him. Shocked and going insane by this situation, he sees no other way out... but to commit suicide with the help of a bomb.

It gets worse.

While this scene was tragic and brutal to say the least, it does allow Rolf to cross the previously guarded bridge where Darum was always located, which allows him to investigate his mission further.

I do want to make a sidenote here actually! Phantasy Star II does include eight playable characters, but unlike Rolf and Nei they do not join you at fixed intervals - instead, they will become available in your home town of Paseo once conditions are met. Sadly while they do have a recruitment quote, a few lines and a backstory, they do not have an impact on the main story in any way. This does blow as this means PSII does not have much in character development and interaction, but I did want to mention that there’s more to this game than just Rolf and Nei :P 

Upon exploring the regions of Motavia, the party manages to make its way to the Biosystems lab, and what they find here is horrifying to say the least. The lab is in horrible shape, with cracked floors everywhere. On top of that, there is no one inside the lab anymore, it being completely deserted, save for some horrible-looking creatures being kept insides tubes, decorating the now sinister looking building... Because of this, Rolf deems it safe to pick up the recorder inside the lab, to analyze it and try to find out just what exactly went wrong - if anything at all - to hopefully figure out why the world has been sacked by biomonsters. And sure enough, the gang make its way back to Paseo.  After handing over the recorder to the library located in Paseo’s Central Tower, it is now made clear: the biomonsters were caused by a large amount of energy used in a very short amount of time in those labs, causing them to mutate extremely rapidly. This had the predictable but unfortunate effect of ruining the natural order of the ecosystem, which is why these species are wrecking havoc without control. The librarian giving this information also makes the following connection: this outpour of energy must have come from Climatrol - another lab which regulates the weather of the terraformed planet so that it can sustain its new shape. Following this, Rolf and co. take a few steps to reach Climatrol - and I want to highlight a specific one!

The story somewhat pauses until then, but one of the dungeons you’ll go through is a garbage dump... and one of the treasures is a jet scooter you can use! Sounds cool, right? Well it is, but even such a cool object has been abandoned by the lazy society, since teleportation is much more convenient to them. I just thought it was a really neat detail, that’s all ^_^

Once making their way through the relatively normal Climatrol, something does wait for them at the top of the building... something... unsettling...

This is Neifirst. She was another failed experiment just like Nei, sharing the same biological data as her. However, unlike her sister, her creators tried to kill her on the spot due to her status. This made her enraged against the species that gave her life, and as an act of revenge, decided to unleash this bio catastrophy to slowly wipe us out. This is where another truth is revealed: Nei did not come with Rolf just to protect him, she actually wanted to put a stop to her sister, because while she did dislike being treated like a freak or a monster, she never wanted to hate her species as a whole... It remains that she still wants to stop her sister’s plans, and despite Rolf’s protests, the two engages in a fight. However, due to Neifirst being much stronger, Nei sustains heavy damage and is incapacitated. But, this is where the rest of the party comes in, and thus they finish the job and kill off Neifirst dead in her tracks, Rolf then quickly rushes in to his dear friend’s side, but as he does... it’s too late... Nei is dead.

This is yet another reason why Phantasy Star II is such an important game: it is, to my knowledge, the very first JRPG in which a major playable character dies permanently. Heck, Rolf even tries to bring her back through the local Clone Lab - because yes, citizens have access to eternal life by cloning their bodies until the end of time - but... since Nei’s genetic code was degenerating rapidly, they could not clone her body anymore. And, since Neifirst was also defeated, it is also impossible to get a fresh code back from anywhere in the world. Nei is dead. And you cannot do anything about it.

But don’t worry! It still gets worse!

But just as you’re about to find a way to fix this, it turns out that Climatrol has collapsed, which caused an immense flood all over the world. Since the government - and by extension, Mother Brain - isn’t happy about this, you are now considered a fugitive, a criminal. You are now the bad guy, and you are wanted for treason. 1989, anyone??

This is where the second brilliant story-gameplay integration of Phantasy Star II happens. Where until now you’ve only fought mutated monsters due to the outbreak, the government has now sent thousands of carious cyborgs and robots against you - and lo and behold, this is now the only thing you are fighting in both the overworld and dungeons, and the previous creatures are now nowhere to be seen. THAT’S REALLY SMART. Now sure, even if you are considered evil to many, you still task yourself with the task of unflooding the planet, and to do so you simply reactivate all four colored dams in the continent. However, upon reactivating the fourth one, your party is suddenly ambushed by a trio of robots sent by the cops, and this time? They succeed in capturing you. Your party is now sent in chains on a hovering satellite, as you are sentenced to slowly wither away and die in there without any trial of any sort, simply because you went against Mother Brain’s dear wishes...

But, something goes amiss. The sattelite starts to malfunction, and is now set to crash on one of the three planets of the Algol system. And despite you all trying to alter its course, it is too late. The satellite crashes onto Palma - the planet of the first Phantasy Star game - and it is gone.

That’s right! The planet in which many players took the time to save with Alis’s gang, to have a huge dungeon crawling adventure, the planet where you defeated Lassic in a glorious fashion. GONE. In only a few seconds. But... what about yourself? Well, you actually died! But a space pirate wandering close to the crash site pulled out your remains and cloned everyone’s body back to life... which makes you technically not yourself, and also dead, for the remainder of the game! ...May I remind you this game was developed in 1989?

Tyler the space pirate then escorts the zombie party back to Paseo, but not for long - you see, your commander, who hasn’t truly approved of Mother Brain’s actions against your group, allows you access to a spaceship. This is a big deal, because space travel as a whole has been banned ten years ago due to a major accident in which Rolf had lost his parents, and thus, the one stationed in Paseo is the last one remaining on the planet. But sure enough, Rolf takes the opportunity and travels to the ice planet of Dezolis, or Dezo.

And honestly? Even though this next part has nothing to do with the main story, it’s probably one of my favourites in the entire game. In this section, you simply must make your way through an abandoned space station, which has not seen use in years. At first, you’d think it was somewhat related to the spaceship incident, but as you explore this space station, you find a bunch of animals and newspapers lying around. You not only find some irrelevant ads about various products, but also news flash about a horrible gas spreading throughout the station, begging every inhabitant to evacuate immediately, which... definitively implies a very bleak fate to the place and its inhabitants o_o 

And on top of this unsettling setting, this is the first time you get to hear “Silent Zone”, my favourite track in the game. While the rest of the soundtrack is very upbeat, catchy and all around excellent, this track in particular is very... sad, desolate, lonely, in spite of it being just as catchy! It all combines for a brilliant example of “show, don’t tell” that really sets the mood perfectly to me <3

Either way, upon exploring more of Dezo - a frigid wasteland with few inhabitants - the party gets to meet up with Noah, a party member from Phantasy Star I! After reawakening from a cryogenic sleep, he then reveals that unlike Paseo and Motavia, Dezo basically never submitted with Mother Brain’s control and benefits simply because they did not want to live a life without any struggles. Unfortunately, this is also where you learn that Paseo came to terms with this *after* being to MB’s whims and as such, you can connect the dots and realize that the satellite crash was no accident after all... it was all planned.

Noah, however, knows about how deeply MB has ruined everything for the inhabitants of Motavia and thus tasks Rolf with collecting eight legendary ancient weapons all throughout Dezo, located within some ruinous, empty, cold dungeons which make for stunning atmosphere and presence, believe me!

Once that’s done, he then entrusts Rolf with the ultimate Sword and, thanks to kinetic abilities, sends him and his troupe to the space station housing Mother Brain. And once there, for the first time in centuries, a human being has met with Mother Brain.

And of course, the computer scoffs at those rebelling against her. She laughs at how they think they’d want a life with struggles, wtihout comfort, without anyone providing their needs, when work and hardship seems so uninviting on a desert wasteland like Motavia, or a frigid hell like Dezo. And yet, after a (pretty difficult!) battle, you emerge victorious! Or do you?

After the victorious outcome, Noah senses some additional presences beyond Mother Brain’s spot, and urges the party to investigate. And then... I don’t think I’ll even explain it in words. Please watch what happens. It is disturbing.

Yeah. We, the humans, were destroying our planet, Earth. Thus, we escaped through this spaceship to avoid extinction, and found the Algo system. It then, to our species, only seemed logical with so few numbers, to instead slowly weaken the population of all three planets with Mother Brain, making it then easy (although a very long process) to get rid of the population and start anew, even if it meant genocide. What I love about this twist ending is not only how it’s presented: the creepy music, the way you did *not* expect it at all, the number of humans on the screen at once, and so on... but also, how you don’t even know for sure how it ends. You don’t know if Rolf, Rudo, Amy, Kain, Hugh, Shir, Anna... if any of them survived. But it looks grim. It looks like we lost. And it looks like everyone we fought and tried to save... will rot until the final days anyway... Phantasy Star II... is important. Sure, I could talk about how the game is challenging due to how both your party members AND the enemies are very capable in battle or the stellar, catchy, memorable soundtrack...   but its story... is stunning. In 1989, we were still used to princesses being saved by armored heroes from dark dragons. We were used to things going all well in the end. But in 1989, Phantasy Star II taught us many things that would become staples in the future of JRPGs:  Yes, your cherished ones may die with you not being able to do anything about it No, you may not be able to save everyone you’d like to. Yes, your actions might make things worse for yourself and everyone else. No, things aren’t quite as black or white as they seem. And no, you might not always win. Phantasy Star II is a masterpiece. It’s a bit hard to approach this game today, but with a guide, this game is a must play. It’s unique. It’s ambitious. It’s chilling. And I adore this game to pieces. Thank you for reading, somehow <3

[trophywifejimgordon]

It’s over. 

Just as soon as it started, almost, except for the part where it took an eternity. Except for the part where, though Daniel actually has experienced being pitted in a fight to the death before, and this was nothing like that, he just relived the past 35 years of his life, not “flashing before his eyes” so much as being jogged into his memory in chunks, hit by overwhelming hit. Every decision he ever made, and every one that was made for him, brought Daniel here, to this moment, to… victory?

Daniel LaRusso has won every most important fight in his life, and this one is no different; Johnny Lawrence now lies on his back, pinned there by the weight of Daniel’s foot resting on his chest. He’s not struggling anymore, just breathing hard and looking, really looking, at Daniel. Daniel’s not really so sure that he likes it.

He’d been face down, last time. Something like that. Daniel’d hardly had attention to spare on the disarmed bomb, not when his whole world was relief and agony and celebration and Miyagi and the sweeping crowd roaring his name and Ali. He had only even been distantly aware of Johnny handing him the trophy, and had, at the time, actually just assumed that he had been forced to by the bounds of tradition--after all, what did Daniel know, then, about the way of things at tournaments like these? It was only after Mike Barnes neglected to be the graceful loser that Daniel had even started to wonder… but Johnny had been long gone by then.

He’s here now, though. And there’s none of the rest; no roaring crowds, no debilitating pain in his knee, no Ali, no excitement, no relief. No Miyagi, either, but that’s kind of been the problem. It’s all over, and here, in the aftermath, there is only Johnny and Daniel, as there ever was, and looking down at Johnny’s wide eyes, Daniel is hit for the first time by the notion that, for you to win, someone else has to lose.

And of course, that should be no great surprise, no world shattering revelation--that is, after all, the business he’s in. Both karate and cars; it’s cutthroat, and it’s a competition, no matter how much he might preach otherwise (lie) to his class at Miyagi-do. But it is. A revelation. Daniel has spent the past year learning about Johnny Lawrence as a human being, more human than it ever felt comfortable to consider him, seeing him struggle and reach out and lash out and, admittedly, grow. There were times when Daniel had hated him, times when he almost thought they could be friends. But it is only now, staring defeat down into the waiting--not angry, not guilty, just… expectant--expression of his opponent, that it hits Daniel: there is a side to their story, and maybe there always was, where Daniel is the villain.

This breaks the man. That’s not him; he’s never been that. Daniel, growing up, had been friends with action comics and superheroes more than actual people--he tried, of course, but could never quite get anyone to stay. (Anyone but Mr. Miyagi, that is, but Daniel is old enough by now to suspect that he might have had his issues, too.) His mother--always a Daniel fan, as a rule--had encouraged him, told him he was too good for those other kids, anyhow, and he sort of believed her. Then he got older, and there was Kreese and Johnny and Chozen and Silver and Barnes, and the world was black and white, just like in the pages of his comics--there was a lesson in Daniel’s final two years of high school, and it was that his childish worldview had essentially been correct, that there was a good guy, and there was a bad guy, and most of the time, the role of the “good guy” fell to him. Growing up, if it could be called that, had done him no favors; while Daniel as a child had been (okay, he could admit it) a bit obnoxious, he had also been fresh and impressionable and wide eyed, ready to learn, always. Ready to shift his viewpoint. Age, as it does with all, or at least most, had made the walls around his worldview a little more stiff, while trauma (for that’s what it was, he realizes now, Trauma, with a capital T) had cemented them in place. The final, glancing blow to Daniel’s ability to bend before he broke was the death of the man who had taught him to do so in the first place; after he lost Mr. Miyagi, that had been it for him, the nail in the coffin. He was stuck. Unalterable, unchangeable. Bitter, and stiff, and unyielding, and more than any of that, completely unable to see it.

Because, who had time for self-contemplation when you were successful? Who had space for introspection when you were busy and moving up and, by all rights, happy? Daniel didn’t need to look inside or better himself; he was the good guy. He was a g-d damn heroic archetype, baby, and he helped people see the light, not the other way around. 

And that mindset had lasted, it had served him, for the better part of eight whole years, or maybe a lifetime. It kept him going, affirmed his choices and supported his self-righteous streak, for all this time, and it was maybe going to keep powering on forever, through the very end of Daniel LaRusso until

       suddenly

                       it didn’t.

And so he gaped down at Johnny Lawrence (old hat, by now, at being typecast as the villain in Daniel’s personal morality plays) and met his sad, blue eyes with sad, brown ones showing--though he did not know or altogether intend it--pure, abject terror right there on his face.

For the first time since Mr. Miyagi died, Daniel feels a shift, uncomfortable and alien and wild, and so all he can say, deer in the headlights wishing the car would come sooner, is, “My knee.”

He thinks about letting Johnny up, or at least removing his own personal peine forte et dure and making it an option. Daniel thinks about it, he hesitates, but he doesn’t move in the end.

Can’t.

“What,” Johnny says cautiously, expression still indecipherable, or maybe that’s Daniel. Despite the weight on his chest, he pushes himself up a little, halfway into a sitting position and resting on his elbows, and Daniel lets him. Can’t do anything about that, either. 

“You didn’t go for my knee, you never did, even though you knew it was my weak spot. I must’ve left it open about a hundred times, I was stupid--but you didn’t take advantage. Why not, Johnny, huh? What did you get out of that?”

Johnny, like, licks his lips a little, probably (probably?) in contemplation, and his gaze flits between Daniel’s face and his leg, the one that’s still pinning him, the one that he and Bobby Brown but John Kreese most of all had done irreparable damage to 35 years back. He almost seems to challenge Daniel (though it’s probably just his keyed-up confrontation brain talking)--like, oh, you mean this knee?

Daniel isn’t sure what the look in Johnny’s eye means--he’s starting to figure out that he doesn’t understand Johnny Lawrence half as well as he’d prided himself on knowing him before--and there’s a second when half of him thinks Johnny’s about to lick a stripe up the surgery scars he caused and the other half thinks that Johnny’s about to strike first, strike hard, strike one last time and show no mercy as he shreds the tendon with his teeth, finishing what he started 35 years ago and ruining the leg for good. 

Of course, he does neither of these things. All he does eventually is bring his gaze back up to Daniel’s eye--expression steel, more sober than Daniel has ever seen him--and say, “I keep telling you, man, and you don’t listen--that’s not who I want to be. I want to be better than I was taught. And you’re never gonna hear it.”

The truth of Johnny’s statement strikes him--in that moment, Daniel knows that Johnny’s strides toward redemption, his constant game of two steps forward, one step back, have not been petty or self-serving or convenient in the least for him; they’ve been genuine. Johnny has been struggling since their childhood, since he fell in with Kreese, and he’s still struggling right now; struggling to unlearn all the bad, three decades of toxic crap dumped on him and into him, because Johnny sees his faults and sees his failures and he wants to be more than the sum of them. It might mean (and just watch, this revelation is earth shattering) that Johnny is a better man than Daniel, who has never once looked in a mirror to do anything more than adjust his too-expensive tie before heading out on the sales floor. Who would Johnny be if he’d had someone like Mr. Miyagi for a mentor? Who would Daniel be if he hadn’t?

His breath, finally calmed down from the physical exertion, starts to speed up again, heart pounding in his chest, and oh, sure, why not, Daniel thinks he’s going to have a panic attack. The least he can do is free Johnny from the pin before he does so; things will probably get really, really strange, if not.

Shaky, trying to control his limbs and remember--well, pretty much anything about the simplest breathing techniques, Daniel lets him go. 

After another second’s deliberation, he reaches down a hand.

“You’re wrong, Johnny,” he says (because nothing between them can be without petty disagreements, not even this), eyes focused on something he couldn’t name if his life depended on it, a spot on the floor just behind Johnny’s shoulder. The floor, the hardwood floor he’d installed himself, even after Amanda had dropped several hints that she wanted it done professionally, because he could handle it, and he had; his floor, in his house, because--oh, right--they’re in his house, his house in Encino, and this whole thing should reek of normalcy, and yet. “I hear you.”

The fight drains out of him entirely, and all of a sudden, Daniel is nothing so much as he is tired. Johnny takes his hand and lets himself be pulled up, and they’re both left standing, shells of men, hollow. Nothing inside. They look at one another and the reflection of their nothingness, and Daniel….

Well. Daniel, is broken.

And then, in a perspective shift like an earthquake, like a typhoon off the coast of Okinawa, like a crane kick in the fucking head, he just may be reforged.

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E7: Day Forty-Seven

Season 8 Episode 7: Day Forty-Seven

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Kinkade and Rizavi film a vlog that follows a relatively normal day on the IGF-Atlas with its humorous moments and the stress of battle.

[Google Doc]

Kinkade: Hello. This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 0600 hours. It’s day forty-seven. And this is a glimpse at day-to-day life aboard the IGF-Atlas.

[Cut to Kinkade brushing his teeth as the camera floats over his shoulder.]

Kinkade: Last night, I unpacked my video gear and decided to document the crew. I know it seems strange, but before Earth was attacked, I didn’t go anywhere without my camera.

[Cut to Kinkade running on a treadmill.]

Kinkade: Back home, people asked me why I liked recording things. They also asked me why I didn’t talk that much. To both of those things, I’d always say… [grunts]

[Cut to Kinkade doing pull-ups.]

Kinkade: Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Romelle: You’re recording? Why?

Griffin: Kinkade has always been, uh… an individual who’s most comfortable observing and reflecting on life. Being a fighter pilot was actually his backup plan.

[Cut to Kinkade wearing a blindfold as he works on his blaster rifle.]

Kinkade: It’s true. I learned how to shoot with a camera before I learned how to shoot with a rifle. I guess filming is just a small piece of the larger puzzle that makes up the picture of who I am. Hm.

[Cut to Kinkade turning the camera on once more and walking to a fighter jet.]

Rizavi: So you’re really shooting another documentary? Please tell me this is going to be more exciting than that project you did for Mr. Pollard’s biology class about yeast.

Kinkade: That was actually about the process of fermentation. Yeast converts carbohydrates into carbon diox--

Rizavi: Boring! Okay, look, if this little documentary is how history will remember us, I’m gonna help you spruce it up! How many cameras do you have? What’s your visual effects budget? Do you have any smoke bombs?

[Cut to Keith and Pidge facing the camera as it focuses on Pidge directly.]

Kinkade: Okay. We’re set.

Rizavi: So, uh, catch us up on what’s going on.

Pidge: Right. Well, the Atlas is headed to the Grei-Aye system where we’ve identified the remains of a disabled robeast.

Rizavi: Oh! Those things are pretty dangerous, right?

Pidge: Do I need to explain that the robeast was one of the ones used in Honerva’s intergalactic ritual?

Rizavi: No, it’s fine.

Pidge: Okay. Um, so, once the Atlas arrives in orbit around the planet, the other Paladins and I will head down to the surface to secure the robeast and hopefully find its Altean pilot.

Rizavi: Ugh, okay. Keith! Why don’t you tell us about the dangers of this mission?

Keith: Well, every mission has some inherent dangers. For this one, we have to be especially diligent about the robeast. Even if it’s not fully functional, it can still pose an extreme threat. Combine that with the hostile Altean that’s probably still in the vicinity, and you’ve potentially got threats on multiple fronts.

Hunk: Hey, guys. What’s up? You making a movie? Cool. Can I be in it? Now, wait, if this is an action movie… is it? I don’t wanna be in it.

Rizavi: Hunk, we’re trying to do an interview here.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Yeah, my bad. I just came by to see if you wanted to try this new recipe I’ve been experimenting with. This is just the first pass. The final version of it will be coming soon. No, Bae Bae! Not for you! I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ll make you some doggy treats later.

Kinkade: What’s the recipe? Can we watch you work?

Hunk: Well, yeah! Yeah, this’ll be great! I’ve secretly always wanted my own cooking show.

Rizavi: What? No! Keith was just telling us about the mission and all the dangers! We’re not losing that to document cooking.

Kinkade: But, I like cooking.

Rizavi: It’s like you’re trying to make this boring.

Hunk: Whoa, first of all, cooking is not boring, okay? And it can bring people together. Some of the best times of my life were spent breaking bread with loved ones.

Keith: So, is this interview over?

Rizavi: No! Great, now the talent’s getting restless!

Iverson: Everyone, report to your battle stations immediately! I repeat… battle stations immediately! This is not a drill!

Rizavi: The camera!

Kinkade: Leave it! We need to go!

Rizavi: But this is gold!

Kinkade: Come o--

Iverson: MFE pilots, report to hangars alpha-bravo! Scrambling fighters in five! Paladins, stand by for launch.

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the fallen camera and carries it around.]

Shiro: Where did it come from? Veronica, get me eyes on it!

Coran: That thing just appeared out of nowhere!

Shiro: Iverson, fire when ready!

Iverson: Target acquired! We’ve got lock! Wait. No… we lost it! Target has gone dark!

Veronica: Electromagnetic radiation from that planet is overloading our radars.

Shiro: Voltron, do you have a visual? I repeat, Voltron, do you have a visual?

Keith: Not yet. We’re going in now! Stand by! We can’t see a thing in here!

Griffin: Copy that. We have zero visibility as well. We need a visual.

Curtis: Roger. Trying another avenue. Scanning for biometrics. Visual acquired!

Coran: Incoming!

Iverson: Recharging all starboard cannons!

Curtis: Sensors are offline!

Iverson: What is that thing?

Coran: It’s massive!

Shiro: Iverson, open fire!

Coran: Direct hit! It’s coming back around for another shot!

Shiro: Veronica, prep shields!

[Scene change as the camera falls down a vent into Sam and Slav’s workstation.]

Sam: Whatever hit us just knocked loose the gravity generator! Grab the flaxum assembly!

Slav: I can’t do that! It’s red!

Sam: Is this one of your crazy probability, reality things?

[Scene change to a hallway as soldiers float through to their stations.]

Shiro: All crew, report to stations and prepare for Atlas transformation--

Atlas Crewmember: Go, go, go!

Shiro: --in T-minus thirty seconds!

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the camera again and carries it.]

Colleen: Bae Bae, what are you doing out here? And what’s this in your mouth? A camera? Come on, girl.

Shiro: All crew, prepare for Atlas transformation sequence in five… four… three… two… one!

[Scene change as the camera dies, then powers on again facing Kinkade once more.]

Kinkade: Camera’s fully charged. We’re good to go. The time is now 0900 hours. We just experienced a minor mishap aboard the IGF-Atlas, but we’re back on track. In the future, we’ll hopefully be avoiding creature-occupied gas planets.

[Cut to Kinkade floating through a hallway.]

Kinkade: Hey, Seok Jin, where you headed?

Seok Jin: I’m transporting these samples back to Earth. Commander Holt thinks it can help with the recovery efforts there.

Kinkade: Well, they couldn’t have picked a better man for the job. Take care, man. Hey, Seok Jin… we’ll miss you, buddy.

[Scene change to the camera looking into the mess hall, where Vrepit Sal is cleaning tables and then rotates to face the hallway.]

Rizavi: There you are! Tell me this thing was recording during the attack! That was so intense! Oh, this documentary’s gonna be awesome!

[Cut to Kolivan sitting in a small office facing the camera.]

Kolivan: I believe our heading readout en route was 92254739.275. Wait, no. It was 9.265. Yes. That was our heading per our readout just prior to our deployment.

Rizavi: [mock snoring]

Kolivan: Our teams vary in size. Often we use the three-person unit, but it’s not unusual to have a four- or a five- or perhaps even a six-person unit. Seven seems rare, but... it could happen.

Rizavi: Okay, I like everything you’re telling me, but let’s just try it a little less like you’re reporting the facts to your commanding officer and a little more like you’re telling your friend an exciting story in the gym. You understand?

Kolivan: Yes, understood.

Rizavi: Okay, good. Why don’t you tell us about your last mission?

Kolivan: Our last mission took place on planet K-V Exus. The Blades divided into three four-person teams and we escorted approximately twelve rescue crafts to the surface. I believe our heading readout was 359.222--

Rizavi: Thank! Thank you! Okay, I think we got it!

Kolivan: But I wasn’t done.

Rizavi: Yeah, you nailed it. Yeah. We need to get someone more exciting in here.

[Cut to Coran leaning into the camera as it slowly attempts to focus on him.]

Coran: Then the Atlas started firing with everything it had! And don’t forget the white hole is swirling right next to us the entire time! Oh, no, it’s about to close! Meanwhile, not one, but two, yes, two, robeasts are attacking! Shiro’s shouting out orders. “Coran, get closer! Iverson, open fire!” Beams of quintessence energy are converging from all over the galaxy! Ah! You know, you could just imagine it.

[Scene change to Rizavi turning the camera on in Slav and Sam’s workspace.]

Sam: Welcome to the engine room. What you see here is just a tiny part of what keeps the ship functioning.

Rizavi: Slav, you’ve created some incredible technology. What do you think of the Atlas?

Slav: I can respect any engineering that extrapolates for transmutation, but I wish the writing was in Altean.

Sam: He’s mentioned that a few times.

Rizavi: So what are you doing now?

Slav: Right now we’re about to adjust the gravity generator, which was fractionally increased during our last battle.

Sam: Yes, our gravity generator is actually a fluid system, ever-changing depending on the specific needs of the location, so it requires recalibrating from time to time. Okay, adjust gravity generator back down to .12.

Slav: Copy. Adjusting now.

Sam: What did you press?

Slav: I don’t know! Which one is the two again? I can’t read these weird symbols you call numbers! Hey, big guy, toss me over! Oh, no. Directly on a crack!

Kinkade: Weird.

[Cut to the camera focusing on some juniberry shoots in a pot.]

Colleen: Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s an Altean juniberry. The first one to bloom in nearly ten thousand years. I managed to get it to grow by resequencing the genetic code of a similar plant. I wanna give it to Allura. These are our fertilizers. We have fish emulsion, worm castings, Kaltenecker manure. Just so much great recycled poop! And this is our lighting station. I like to say our lighting array is literally out of this world! You know, because we’re, you know, on a space ship.

Rizavi: Can I take a shot at this?

[Cut to the camera panning across the crops in the grow room.]

Rizavi: Welcome to extreme space harvesting! Where we have plants and crops and super fertilizers all under one roof! Meet Colleen Holt, the botanical genius behind it all.

[Cut to Colleen sitting in a chair in the grow room.]

Colleen: I guess I just liked plants all my life. I’ve done a lot of research, but I know I have much to learn. I guess… I like… the challenge. I’m sorry, where am I supposed to be looking?

Rizavi: Without Colleen, all life aboard the ship could perish. One bad crop, the introduction of one foreign pest, and it’s all over.

Colleen: I just like plants.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something again? I just--I just came in to see if Colleen had a very specific type of yeast.

Kinkade: Yeast? What for?

Rizavi: Oh, no.

Hunk: It’s that recipe I’ve been working on. I think I got the topping down, but I’m still trying to figure out the sweet bread.

Colleen: Well, I have so many strains of yeast, it’ll make your head spin. I got AB972, S288C. I even have O unilateralis. Don’t mess with that one.

Kinkade: Are you getting this?

Rizavi: Unfortunately, yes.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through a hallway.]

Rizavi: The time is 1200 hours. We just got word that we are in the Grei-Aye star system. The Paladins will be heading down to the surface of the planet any second now.

[Cut to the camera facing Allura, Lance, and Keith in the hangar for Black Lion.]

Rizavi: Lance, how are you feeling about the mission you’re about to go on?

Lance: Oh, hey. I’m feeling good, I guess. Maybe a little tense. Maybe a lot tense. I don’t know. Why’d you have to ask me that question?

Allura: I think what Lance is trying to say is he’ll be fine. We all will.

Keith: Let’s move out.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi standing a ways away from Blue Lion as it launches.]

Rizavi: Right now, we’re headed to the situation room where we’ll be monitoring the Paladins in real-time.

Kinkade: By the way, you know we’re not gonna be able to bring our camera into that meeting, right?

Rizavi: Says who?

[Scene change to the situation room where Veronica, Coran, Sam, and Shiro are all facing a screen showing a no-signal symbol.]

Sam: Come in, Pidge. Are you reading us?

Pidge: Okay, we’ve just touched down on the surface.

Keith: We’re at the crash site now.

Pidge: That’s the robeast. It looks disabled, just like our intel reported. The Altean should be nearby.

Shiro: Paladins, brace for incoming!

Hunk: I didn’t know it could do that!

Keith: Take cover!

Shiro: Paladins, report! We’ve lost visual. Bridge, lock onto that ship now!

Curtis: Yes, Captain. Adjusting to long-range parameters. Locked on!

Shiro: Light it up!

Curtis: Direct hit!

Lance: Nice shot, Atlas!

Hunk: Yeah, thanks for the cover!

Shiro: Bridge, stay on alert.

[Cut to the Altean viewscreen of Pidge’s point of view through her helmet.]

Allura: Stand by, Atlas. We’re approaching the ship.

Hunk: Guys, there doesn’t seem to be a pilot inside.

Keith: Hey, guys. Over here.

Pidge: Keith’s found something. Let’s go! Give me a second. Just reconfiguring to this barrier’s isometric frequency. There! That should do it.

Keith: Atlas, our target is acquired.

Overlapping voices: Yippee! Alright! Yeah!

Shiro: Great job, everyone!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through another hallway.]

Rizavi: We just got word that the Paladins have returned from their mission. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of this new Altean.

Kinkade: This’ll be the sixth Altean pilot we’ve recovered from the powered-down robeasts left behind after Honerva escaped Oriande. Allura keeps trying, but she hasn’t been able to get any information from them as of yet.

[Camera cuts to Rizavi standing outside a room marked “Authorized Personnel Only”.]

Rizavi: Commander Shirogane said you two were needed on the bridge. We’ll cover your station.

Woman: Yes, Lieutenant.

Rizavi: There! Oh, man, I think we missed the beginning.

Romelle: Tavo, please. You and I grew up alongside one another. You must trust me. We’re here to help.

Tavo: We were told you are a traitor, and I can see now that it is true.

Allura: I’m done talking with him. I’m done with all of them.

Kinkade: Uh, what are you doing?

Rizavi: Sh! I got an idea.

Lance: Anything?

Allura: No. He was just like the others. A true believer in Honerva, and there’s nothing I can say that would make him think otherwise.

Lance: I’m sorry.

Allura: No, I am. These Alteans are the key to unlocking Honerva’s plan. They’re my people, but they won’t speak with me. You have no idea what it’s like to find out after ten thousand years that you’re not the last of your kind… only to be rejected by them.

Lance: I don’t. But I wish every day there were something I could do to change it all for you. You’ve suffered more than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. But still you persist. Through the pain, you inspire. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.

Kinkade: No, that’s private.

Rizavi: Kinkade, what are you doing? That was our love angle!

[Camera cuts out, then focuses in on Romelle’s face.]

Kinkade: Please don’t touch that.

Romelle: Oh, sorry.

Rizavi: So, Romelle, you know these Alteans from your time on the colony?

Romelle: Yes, I lived alongside them for many decaphoebs. They are good people.

Kinkade: What do you think would make them join forces with Honerva?

Romelle: I don’t know. But you must understand, my people were hunted nearly to extinction. They’re afraid. And this Honerva… she’s turned that fear to aggression. If there was just some way to get through to them.

[Cut to the mess hall.]

Griffin: I’ve never seen anything like it. All those tentacles… so nasty.

[Cut to the kitchen where Hunk is stirring something purple in a pan.]

Hunk: Oh, hey. You’re just in time. I was just about to add the yeast Colleen gave me. No, Bae Bae! Bad dog!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi sitting at a table with Allura.]

Kinkade: First off, thanks for doing this, Allura.

Allura: You’re welcome.

Rizavi: Maybe we can start with the Alteans we have aboard.

Allura: What about them? They’re on the wrong side of this war and they refuse to speak with me. There’s nothing else to say.

Rizavi: So, you’re frustrated?

Allura: Yes, I am. Oriande was destroyed, Lotor is back, and we aren’t any closer to tracking down Honerva. She’s out there, right now, planning something, preparing, and growing stronger. And we’re here flying around in circles, searching for Fraunhofer lines that don’t appear and scanning for wormhole signatures that don’t exist!

Rizavi: Do you think we’ll ever find Honerva?

Allura: No. I think she’ll find us.

[Camera cuts back to Hunk in the kitchen, this time wearing oven mitts.]

Hunk: Okay, it’s been a long day, but I’m finally done.

Kinkade: What is it?

Hunk: It’s an authentic Altean dessert! I’m gonna give it to the Alteans. Coran helped me with the recipe, but I think his memory was, like, a little bit fuzzy, so, you know, I did some improvising. No big whoop.

Kinkade: You did this for them? Why?

Hunk: Well, I don’t know. Because food has a way of reminding people of moments in time. That’s why I made a dessert. Usually, when you eat dessert, you’re pretty happy, right? Who knows? Maybe this’ll help those Alteans remember some moment that made them smile. Something before all this madness. That could go a long way in building a relationship. Well, that’s just what I think.

[Cut to the Alteans in a holding cell as the camera zooms out and pans to face Hunk.]

Hunk: Please, eat. Look, it’s good! Mm, really!

Tavo: You made this? It reminds me of home.

Hunk: Well, I had a little help from someone born and raised on Altea. A-and I know you don’t wanna talk with them, but Allura and Coran know more about your homeland than anyone alive. They were on Altea until its final day. They both would’ve stayed and died to protect it if Alfor hadn’t sent them away. That’s how much they loved it.

Tavo: I heard Altea was one of the most beautiful places in the universe. Did your Alteans ever tell you about the zyo crystal springs outside of the capital? The stories say those cliffs were more beautiful than all of the stars combined.

Hunk: They never told me about them. But I’m sure they’d love to tell you themselves.

[Scene change to Kinkade sitting in casual clothes facing the camera.]

Kinkade: This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 2300 hours. Day forty-seven aboard the IGF-Atlas is officially done.

End.

[bulletballet-arch]

The Revised [ Full ] History of Eve in Picture Perfect

( until I decide to tweak and edit it some more )

In this verse, Eve’s mother Linda would reside in Brooklyn for three years after the death of her husband, William Littlejohn, his brother Malcolm, and Malcolm’s wife Yvette. Initially, she stays in Brooklyn simply because she feels she is supposed to. Her in-laws, Amos and Liza, want to observe her. Similarly, Linda’s parents want to ensure she is fine after narrowly facing death. Haunted by the massacre, Linda suffers from survivor’s syndrome, but she is never allowed to vocalize the pain felt. In the midst of secretly attending therapy sessions ( while Eve is taken care of by her Grandma Evelyn and Papa Giuseppe ) Linda finds that her lifestyle is stagnant. She feels as though she is a woman who does whatever someone else wants. Therefore, Linda decides to move to Manhattan with the five-year-old Eve in tow. They live in a luxurious apartment and Linda makes her living as a secretary on Wall Street while Eve attends ballet classes.

Linda didn’t have to be a secretary, as the Littlejohns (and her father) provided her with money, but she liked working. It kept her mind off things. Sometimes things would feel great until people asked her was her husband the late William Littlejohn. In time, Linda gets a boyfriend who is a stockbroker. He’s white, he’s a recent divorcee and because she worked so closely with him, Linda knew it would be unprofessional to date him. But she thought to herself, ‘this is my decision. It’s okay because I have some control.’ The idea of control was a myth, though. She became his arm candy, similar to what happened within the Littlejohn Family when she initially became linked with William.

Linda could not complain too much, though. Because her new lover was good to Eve. The overall excellent dynamic caused them to get married. Their marriage lasts for four years. Eve is eight years old when they divorce. It’s a divorce that’s long. Messy. He was going to jail for a pyramid scheme was a part of and Linda didn’t want to stand by him. After the divorce - and the trial - Linda decides she could use a break. She decides that she and Eve should leave the country for a little while. Because why not? She has the money. The first country they go to is England, staying in London.

It was supposed to be a month-long vacation, but she kept putting off returning home. She didn’t want to house hunt back in New York, she didn’t want to be identified with a scandal, she didn’t want to see any family. So they began living in London. When Eve is nine years old, Linda would decide to go to South Africa. Eve experienced cities such as Durban, Ghana, Cape Town. While Linda was really in Africa to become more connected to her ancestors, all and all, she thought the experience would be good for Eve. Her baby girl could have a lot of memories of different buildings, landscapes, cultures. And, this exposure did make Eve happy, however, she had no stable school life or friendships. So on a social level, Eve was miserable. She also tried having pen pals, but that only worked for so long before both parties ceased writing one another.  Eve did feel at home when she was in New York with her extended family during holidays like Christmas. Eve’s maternal grandparents wanted her to live with them, but her mother refused it. Eve has a vivid memory seated in the back of a taxi, crying because she didn’t want to go to the airport. And as for Linda - well, she would never notice this, but whenever she was deeply distressed, her mental desire was to just keep moving.

When Eve was fifteen years old, her mother fell in love with a highly esteemed professor from the University of Cape Town. This would be her mother’s third significant relationship. They all began living together and he begins an inappropriate relationship with Eve. It’s all an act of grooming that Eve isn’t aware of. Linda catches on to it and calls out her boyfriend for his behavior. However, he is offended by the accusations. He moves out, but he still contacts Eve through phone calls and  even picks her up from school at one point without her mother’s consent. Eve remembers her mother always asking her questions, ‘did he touch you?’ ‘What did he do to you?’ Eve was overwhelmed, as she felt her mother didn’t believe her. It caused Eve to give her the silent treatment, which in turn caused Linda to decide to move again. This time, they would leave Africa to live in Europe - France, specifically.

In France, the two moved twice. First to Paris then to Lyon. Eve liked Lyon more than Paris, but was much too stubborn to admit it. Part of Eve was worried that if she was open about her love, then her mother would want to move somewhere else. She attended college with a focus on art conservation. Ultimately, she did not fully complete her apprenticeship because she would meet Alexandre DuBois, a con artist she fell in love with.

He did not expose his true nature to her at first, but she began questioning the source of the jewelry he was continuously giving her. When she reached the conclusion that he was a criminal of some sort, Alexandre kept insisting that it wasn’t as much of an issue that she was making it out to be. To prove this he wanted Eve to come with him to a job wanting Eve to participate as well. Eve declined, she wasn’t trying to get in any legal trouble. However, Alexandre said he didn’t like boring women. Offended, she agreed.  He slicked down his hair so it could appear straight. Wore his best suit. Meanwhile, he instructed Eve to dress as though she was going to attend the most extravagant party. When they stood side by side, Alexandre was looking like a wealthy white man with a young, black mistress. The trick, Alexandre told her, was to always act as though you belong. For days Eve waited for consequences. For the police to knock at her door. Something. It didn’t happen. She told herself never again, but she got addicted to stealing with Alexandre, as it became an adrenaline rush.

Eventually, Eve and Alexandre were apprehended by law enforcement. Linda bailed Eve out and told her that if she was not going to continue reaching for her career goals then she would send her to America. Eve would fight back, insisting that she was an adult, so she doesn’t have to go to America just because she said so. Linda then has enough and states that since Eve is a young adult, she can live with Alexandre.  The relationship that would progress between Eve and Alexandre was not without its faults. Even when Eve moved in with him, Alexandre was cheating on her discreetly. He had his alternate hookups and one-night stands, with Eve simply being his main girlfriend. When women smugly confronted Eve of how Alexandre was nothing but a womanizer and she was his latest victim, she fought for the sheer integrity of his name. Behind closed doors, when Eve confronted Alexandre about his inability to be monogamous: he blackened her eye.

The relationship comes to an end when Alexandre gains access to an elite party. During their fumbled job, they would be acknowledged by someone who would be very influential in Eve’s future, Gisella Agostini of the Corsican Mafia. The two would leave the scene in shame, fiercely arguing in the car about who messed up. Eve brings up how he’s a liar and manipulator, only for Alexandre  to rip the pearls from her neck and kick her out his car. She had to find her way back to safety in the dark of the night.

While Alexandre and Eve are separated, the Agostini family does research on the two. They see that Alexandre has a long history of theft, and even a previous murder charge, while Eve just seems to be a college student who got caught up in the thrill of crime. First, Alexandre is snatched off the street by Agostini goons. In what he deemed as an act of self-preservation, he sells Eve out, claiming it was her idea.

When Eve is abducted by the crime family, Gisella confronts her directly. The old woman states that she could fix everything and spare her from her ‘husband’s wrath.’ But the truth is, Gisella’s husband doesn’t do anything in the crime family any longer due to his age and illnesses, but Gisella uses him as a ‘front’ to reign.  Eve ends up working for the crime family,  and in little moments, she ever so gradually speculates she is in the midst of a female mob boss. As the months go along, Eve’s mother wants to make amends but Eve doesn’t want her mother to know she is now gang-affiliated. Eve is very afraid for her life. This leads to more mother-daughter tension due to the lack of communication.  

As the years pass on, Gisella is progressively attached to Eve. This is reflective of how she has her own passion for the world and the diverse people who live in it (especially those of the African diaspora.) In turn, Eve initially grows to feel like she’s a part of some sort of stable family. Ultimately, their relationship gradually becomes overbearing and toxic. Eve is literally feeling like she’s owned and controlled by an old white woman. Therefore, Eve distances herself from dealing with Gisella personally because it was too much. However, Eve continued working for the crime family in regards to assassinations and heists, but she was not eating at Gisella’s home for dinner or talking over tea. Eve decides to make amends with Gisella by the time she is 31. Little did she know, the woman was on her death bed at this point. They were kind to one another and Gisella lets Eve know she can do whatever she wants now. Later that week, the old woman would die. While Gisella’s death comes as a shock - Eve was also feeling relieved. Afterward, Eve has mild conflict with Gisella’s nephew who feels like she should not be leaving the crime family, but Eve insists Gisella harbored no ill will towards her and wanted her to do whatever she wanted. So, she’s leaving.

Eve relocates to New York to begin a new, stable life. It’s what she wants. It’s what she needs. Or so she thinks. She thought New York would have her feel at home and content as it did when she was a child, but she didn't feel this way at all. She felt like a stranger among her family, like a guest or something.  Eve proceeds to sell the art she makes for a living and gains recognition from it. Admittedly, she’s bored with a quiet life. It is entering a relationship with Salvatore Scozzari that sparks her passion for crime, although he would much rather her marry him and live a quiet but glamorous life. But in the end? Eve can’t do it. Breaking up with Sal by claiming she’ll be working at a gallery in California, she travels to another state. Her life as a thief starting up a second time.

[moondustaeil]

𝐫𝐞:𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

↳ Ambrosia's not-so-happy life update.

trigger warning, this post includes: weight loss, food, calorie counting, disordered eating habits, suicide, insecurities, fears.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭?

As I contemplate whether I should make an earnest post look as aesthetic as possible, my eyes are tearing up to Lee Chansub's "Gone". Therefore, this chapter gets named after his lyrics.

Since when was it? It's a question that crosses my mind after deciding on the chapter name, even though I'm well aware of the number of days that have passed. Each day I write that significant number in my journal, but there must be more than the pen can write. Beyond my awareness: there must have been a certain amount of time spent on a prologue to pen down the event that ultimately led to this chapter.

Since where was it? There could be multiple meanings behind the question, but I can only formulate a limited answer despite the openness. As far as I'm in charge of this story, there is no why or where. Yes, I quite literally woke up one day and decided to go on a diet, simple as that. Before that day, dieting never crossed my mind: I never saw my body as too much or myself as too little compared to others. Can you understand now why I think a prologue was written for me and not by me?

Anyhow, let's have a look at how I think I experienced my life before the diet. Sometimes I think I don't even remember how I experienced the last moments of it, but that doesn't mean I don't know how it went. My life before the diet was pretty plain: I didn't engage in any social or physical activities and spent most of my time behind my laptop to write or lurk around on YouTube. Eating-habit-wise, I never ate much: three meals a day with occasional snacks, those snacks probably covering more calories than my meals did. Despite eating calorie-covering snacks, I would have given my all for fruit and vegetables, especially frozen fruit. Back then, I already had significant eating habits: I'd eat nuts when I was stressed, drink smoothies while studying for exams, eat sour sweets when I was bored. My body before the diet wasn't that noteworthy: I maintained the same weight for around three years and only ditched my tight jeans because covid had me feeling too lazy to wear them. A youth like this might sound boring to you, but I gladly lived my life like this and, I don't regret the way I spent it.

I can still recall up to two days before it began: I can tell the contents of those days like I was the supporting cast instead of the main character, simply because I can't remember the emotions. The two last days were spent behind my laptop, waiting for the exam results while eating spicy nuts (to keep the stress level low). When the exam results came, and I realised I passed them all, I must have felt relieved. But in my memory, I didn't and don't feel anything at all concerning my exams. And that's where it stops. I don't even know where it starts again.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

It quite literally feels like I woke up with no memories of the first days of the diet: I can recall what I ate, but not what I did or felt.

On the first day, I drank a strawberry oat smoothie for breakfast. It was my first self-made smoothie which was convincingly delicious compared to the bought smoothies I used to have. That same day, I stopped eating snacks: unknowingly, I restricted them and wouldn't allow them for the months after.

That paragraph is all I remember from the first day, and if I were to write one about every day of that week, it would be less each day. Maybe those days just weren't memory-worthy enough as I don't want to search for a reason behind every single thing.

For approximately twenty-eight days after the first one, I have no recollections. The only way I can reflect on those days is by checking my calorie intake and physical activity. Though, it doesn't feel like I was the one who tracked it.

The first proper recollection I have is of a day I ate 180 calories for the first time: a number I can only wonder about now. Though it was my first time having such a low intake, it wasn't the last or lowest. The number 180 seemed to attract me as in the days that followed, 180 would be the maximum amount of calories I'd consume. Back then, I had no idea what TDEE or BMR (of any of the other terms) were, so I can't tell you what my deficit was. But I would burn around 1200 calories a day by exercising, and that should be enough to raise red flags.

From that point on, even though I was probably slowly killing myself, I felt alive. A growing obsession with food, weight loss and exercise was fueling my mind. While my body was left behind, trying to catch up with the pace. If I didn't lose more than 1 gram overnight, I'd starve myself the next day. If I felt too lazy to exercise, I'd punish myself for being lazy by doing more. My weight dropped a lot, up to the point where the scale sometimes seemed to skip numbers.

Then a parent swap came: I would be staying with my dad for two weeks. In advance, I had already figured out everything I thought I needed to know: how I would skip meals without him finding out, at what times I could exercise without him knowing, where I could throw away the food he thought I would eat. The day I packed my bag and left for his house, my plans turned into action.

The two weeks there went as smooth as I planned them to go. Even with bonuses: he worked up to three days a week and did not question it when I didn't eat. In those two weeks, I would replace kpop videos with programs I used to despise: supersize versus superskinny and mukbangs. The videos would satisfy my hunger in some way, even though they caused me to start nailbiting. I wouldn't eat: I would only watch as others fed themselves.

Since I lost the initial subject I wanted to discuss in this chapter (I'm so sorry), I shall be moving on to the next chapter.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭?

It was at this point that people were starting to notice things that I hadn't. Sometimes those things were appearance-related and, other times it was personality-related or even habit-related.

It started with a compliment from my aunt, and I felt like I was glowing when she mentioned my visible jawline and thin face. Maybe I was slightly disappointed that she noticed the facial changes before my body but, at the same time, she noticed a difference!

After her, people started commenting on my body, and I worked more to achieve those comments. I saw them as comments rather than compliments: I didn't tire myself out starting from 5:20 am every day just to receive a meaningless compliment. I wanted people to take notice.

And, they did. People that directly surrounded me were starting to notice things that I failed to see. Mostly stuff that changed about my personality while my body was changing. My mother told me that I became the opposite of easy-going and friendly when others were around. My sister told me that my facial expressions had gone even further than my usual resting bitch face. My nephew said that all I would do was try to end up in arguments with others and that he didn't like being around me anymore. It hurt to have all of those things said, but at the same time, I was too in denial to care. The only thing I cared about was food, exercise and losing weight.

On rare occasions, I became aware of the person I became. Mostly when others would try to reach me by calling or coming over but I was too busy to talk to them, and if I did, I would talk about food-related things only. So, I shut everyone out.

I no longer talked to my friends daily, wouldn't reply to my parents sending me messages, didn't go on social media unless it was to look at food or triggering images.

The world consisted of me and was ruled by my obsession.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

There is an unknown amount of time that settles itself between the previous chapter and this chapter. During this time, I once again feel like I'm just a supporting character: my habits develop and my obsession rules over everything I do.

Many of the things I did (which already wasn't a lot, to begin with), were based on stuff I said already. Though even more refined and obsessive.

When I closed my eyes, sleep would take me to dreams about food and weight loss. Approximately three times a night, I would open my eyes, assume it was morning and get ready for another day of exhaustion and starvation. Those nightly hours are still engraved in my mind and current habits: 12:00 am, 3:20 am, 5:28 am.

It is in this chapter that a slow awareness creeps up on me. The side effects are what wakens me when everything else consumes me: constant thoughts about food, the inability to sleep, not being able to think or focus, drifting from reality, always feeling cold, tingling headaches, not leaving the house for days unless it's for shopping (because I would look at food I couldn't eat).

"I need to stop," I told myself while I wrote in my journal how much better I would be if I lost some more weight because the scale is tempting me.

I didn't want to stop. I just wanted it to stop.

Though in reality, I had no control to stop myself or it. I had lost control long ago, and to this day, I still have no idea at which chapter I left it behind. Some days I thought of how to stop, but the exit sign was more like a full-stop as it led me to think of killing myself: it would make my family stop commenting on my condition and could give me a sense of freedom even though I would be dead.

It surely wasn't the first time I passed that exit sign in life, but it was the first time I felt determined to pass it by. All I wanted was to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking of food. *Snort*, such high standards.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Unexpectedly, a good dream did cloud over my bedroom. Even though it was simple, it's one of the dreams that I hope to keep in my memory forever. And for laughs, I'll share it.

TO1-member Donggeon was standing near my garage but, my mother's car wasn't in the driveway because she wasn't home. I was standing outside with him while he talked with Wei's Donghan (who was invisible to me). They were having a casual conversation in Korean. Then, he wanted to lean against the car that wasn't in the driveway, causing him to fall on all fours. He laughed at his stupidity and, at the same time, his ears were getting red from embarrassment.

That pretty much sums up the first not-food-related dream I had during my entire journey. And I still remember waking up at 3:20 am, laughing: it was stupid and silly but left such a big impression on me. And that's when I told myself: "I need to recover".

It sounds silly but I still, to this day, think that this dream set me off into recovery mode. Even though I felt like I had no control, I tried to take control: calculated a number of calories that I surely had to eat each day, planned Thursday to be my active rest-day, found less intense workouts to do in the morning, tried to replace the mukbangs in my watch later list by relaxing videos or recovery videos, scheduled to journal every day. Though I told myself I would do those things, it wasn't easy to put my words into action.

Yet, I fucking did it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Not going to lie: I spent all night wondering how I was going to write this and all morning putting it into proper words. Hence, the reason why I'm feeling exhausted: too exhausted to continue writing it even though the blooming period is so close. So instead of giving a lecture on recovery: I will try to give my opinion on recovering and how I'm doing these days.

Each day, I still question whether I'm truly in a recovery of something. I never went to see a professional or verbally admitted to my problems, so I never learned whether I'm recovering from something or just making progress after a downfall. I might be familiar with the use of DSM-4 and DSM-5 but, that doesn't mean I'm qualified to judge on whether I had/have a disorder or not. Yet, I opt to use the terms disordered eating and recovery until I'm sure of what it was that I went through.

Some days it feels like I was faking all of it, but then I realise, how was I faking it while I was going through it and experiencing it? Perhaps some of you reading even think I am faking all of the above, but that's your opinion. I don't need to defend myself for feeling things.

Now, I'll update you on where I'm standing today because I guess I wrote six chapters in order to get to this point. We all know I like to write more than necessary.

⋅ My disordered eating habits and calorie intake: I have made quite some progress (even if I say so myself). Each week, I challenge myself to increase my calorie intake by 100 until I reach my maintenance calories. It isn't as easy as it sounds because by the time I actually dared to increase by ten calories, the week is over, and I have to adjust my goal because I wasn't even able to reach close to where I planned to be. This week my goal is to eat 800 calories a day: a number that unexpectedly is paired with a lot of guilt and fear, so I haven't been able to eat that amount yet. The maximum I've eaten is 641 calories a day. Together with that, I also promised myself to eat one fear food or not-eaten food a week: that way, I hope to stop restricting myself and learn to enjoy them again. Some lasting habits I developed: I fear eating too early and will try to push back eating as late as I can because it gives me the feeling that I can enjoy it for longer but I do have strict hours, I cut everything into mini pieces because it gives me the feeling that I have more to nibble on and more to enjoy, I read every single nutrition label multiple times (in the store and at home) because I fear that it might include too many calories or fat, I don't eat anything that I didn't plan and nothing that I can't track calorie-wise, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day because I feel like it's the only food I can trust. The urge to skip meals or lie about them is getting smaller, but the thought always remains in the back of my mind.

⋅ My weight: I'm at a weight that is still considered healthy according to whoever feels qualified to judge. However, I fear gaining weight every single day, which stops me from eating my weekly allowance. Despite eating more than at the start of this: I still lose weight. The weight loss fuels the bad habits once more, but I try to tell myself that my weight is only to indicate whether I'm close to my maintenance calories or not.

⋅ My body: my body kept most of its side effects inside until I started to recover aside from the ones that I've stated before. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't feel cold despite wearing a shirt only, so that was a win for my body. However, I do have constant headaches, get blackouts often and, I easily feel my energy draining whenever I do a little bit too much (which I didn't always feel when I was actively doing it). That being said, my abilities have definitely decreased: you can read what kind of exercise I do in the next paragraph, but it has decreased a lot because I will feel weak sooner than before.

⋅ Exercise: I am between struggling and not struggling with it. The reason why I started to exercise was to burn more calories than I ate. But back then, I had no knowledge of BMR and whatnot. These days I do a lot less impactful exercise than I did before, but I still exercise each day: I do 96 minutes of stationary cycling a day, go on daily walks and have the obsession to take steps whenever I'm standing still. As you might be able to tell, I feel like I'm on the line of having control here.

⋅ My personality/social life/hobbies: even though I was in denial about my changing personality for a long while, I eventually realised that people were right when they said I changed. The realisation came during recovery, mostly because I noticed how I was in a better mood than when I was at my lowest point. My social life is building up slowly and doesn't always include me having to talk about my weight loss or food, though people always mention it so, I do always end up having to talk about it without wanting to. As for hobbies, I found my interest in kpop and writing again but, it's still at a somewhat moderate level. I still find myself lurking at food-related posts or triggering things, but I can control myself better and watch some positive videos instead. Aside from that, I journal every day: I write down what I ate, my physical activity, what I saw as memorable in my day, and more.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

That's pretty much all for the life update. I still left out a lot that I failed to remember while writing or felt too tired to write about, and I bet not a lot of you are interested in any of this anyway. I just felt like I owed everyone an explanation of where I've been and why I haven't been reblogging much or writing.

As I've stated a few times before, I don't know yet when I will get back into writing or posting content. And the past months made me realise that it might be good for myself if I take some time away from Tumblr: I won't be able to look for triggering content, won't be able to trigger anyone else on accident and can focus on working towards my goals.

I hate the word hiatus but I think this means that I will be going on semi-hiatus. On good days, I might still come here to talk to my mutuals or reblog some kpop content that I enjoy. But other times, I probably won't respond or interact much as I'm logged out.

For now, my semi-hiatus will continue until mid to end September. This might be shortened or extended depending on my progress and my personal needs.

Have a lovely day, moonflowers! 💌

[thekillerssluts]

WILL BUTLER – Interview 

How are you? How have you experienced the pandemic so far? I’m in Brooklyn and New York is remarkably chipper at the moment. I’m still aware that things might go south and we might have a second great depression, but it doesn’t feel as dire as I feared it would. It’s been a wild six months.

The work on your second solo album Generations has been directly affected. I read that some of the songs were worked out live and some were recorded during lockdown. I actually finished it right before lockdown. Coincidentally, I raced to finish it mid-March and finished it literally on the day New York closed everything down. We knew it was coming though.

How did you spend the time after then? I was still mixing the album. Time has no meaning anymore. I’ve been at home; we have young kids here and the online teaching has been intense [laughs]. We have a yard and could go outside. Nearby, there is a beautiful cemetery, so we could go for walks there. We were quite lucky and comfortable. It was strange, it was like being in a hurricane, but it was completely silent.

Talking about being a parent: You said that Generations is about your place in American history. Did having children start your thought process about that? When did you start researching the trail of your family and put it into the greater picture? For an American family, we have always been quite conscious about our history. My dad’s family has been in New England since the 17th century. They have been on the same three islands in Maine for 250 years. My mum is a harpist, a rock’n’roll pianist and jazz musician, her parents were jazz musicians, my great grandfather was a musician. I think it is very beautiful and pure to be children of musicians, of musicians, of musicians, etc. But America likes to pretend that how you are born doesn’t matter. But it is clearly not a coincidence that I’m in a musical family. It’s also not a coincidence that I own my home instead of renting, it’s not a coincidence that I’ve never been to jail… There are all these other heritages that are poisonous. People have always been unpacking, but in the last decade or so we have started to unpack collectively as a society. This has definitely been part of the way. There is a whole section of America that asks, “Where do we come from, where is this going?”

There are two sides to that, your personal family history linked to music and a more political approach thinking about social status and how your family background influences your position today. The video for your single Surrender sees you discuss the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the Black Lives Matter movement. Did you consider your political engagement and your status as a white artist in the US during your research of your family history? I never thought that critically about race until I was a grown-up.  I was aware of history; I was a smart person, and I knew about the civil rights movements etc. But for the last 15 years now, Arcade Fire has been working with Partners in Health. They started as a health clinic in Haiti. Their original mission was to believe in a preferential option for the poor, they believed that poor people should have better services. As a doctor, you must see where the disease comes from in order to treat it. And in Haiti it became clear that the reasons people were dying were very much rooted in the history of slavery and the American occupation. In that context it becomes very clear how important history is in people living or dying. That was when I started really thinking about that how long you are going to live highly depends on the last 400 years. I don’t want it to be “the future is written”-pessimist, but to be aware that where we come from and where we are going is literally a matter of life and death.

Your album Generations raises many general questions in that respect and gives conversations for answers. Do you think that important questions often don’t have an ultimate answer? I believe so. I believe that answers – to the extent that we’re talking about problems we can fix in America – are rooted in collective political action. The only way to do that is conversation and compromise and moving forward together. Moving forward individually – at least in America – has always been our thing, but we are realizing that you have to move forward collectively. I think there are some concrete answers to technical questions, but even applying those has to be a discussion.

With your music you not only dive into history but also compare it to literature – with Policy being short stories and Generations being more of a novel. How is that reflected sonically? Sonically, I care a lot about bass. There is something very powerful and mystical about how the body reacts to bass. There is a dark current of bass through the record that feels like a character. It feels sometimes menacing, sometimes supportive. With the backing vocals, there is always a conversation. Sometimes, I’m conversing with a distorted version of myself and sometimes there is a room full of people. Sometimes I’m right and they are wrong, sometimes I’m right and they are wrong. There are characters that develop. To me, there are some through lines in the piece. I was happy about that because you never know until you make the actual thing.

There are different lines of moods, too. Many songs, like your single Surrender, have a very joyous sound. Still, that’s mixed with parts of desperation and honest critical reflection. Did you plan to include these contrasts or was it a natural progression while you were working on the stories of the record? I feel the lines when I close my eyes. There is an old Smokey Robinson song called “I Gotta Dance to Keep from Crying” and it’s about a breakup. But still, particularly in the last decade, where it felt like things are spinning of control and you can really get lost in that spin and chaos, that emotion is just naturally present. But you have to take a breath and focus. One thing that has always stuck with me from history is that during the Detroit Riots in 1967, within a couple of weeks and within a 20 minutes’ walk from where the riots started, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell recorded Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing, which is one the most pure and joyous songs. There’s space for both transcendence and beauty and a harsh political reality. They just naturally inhabit the same space.

Let’s talk about the recording process: Even though Generations is a solo record, it doesn’t mean you were playing or working solo, you have band members with you. This is very much a band record. I have this band since I toured Policy. My drummer is Miles Francis and my wife’s sister July Shore plays bass on a lot of things. One of their childhood friends, Sara Dobbs, used to be on Broadway and hated it and quit and I said, “You’re very talented, do you want to be in my band?”. My wife can also sing and so the five of us have played a lot of music together over the last five years. I set up a session in my basement and wanted to record some demos and see how far we could get. After a week of recording we had eight songs that weren’t done, but that were real. After that, I was like, “Oh, we have the base of a record here, we can do this!”. When we play together, there is a real communication between everyone. Probably more than half of the songs were played over the shows last summer before we recorded them to feel some energy from it.

Because of Covid-19 we might have some more months, some think even years, until everything might be back to normal for the event industry and touring. With your solo record out: was the plan to also tour it internationally and how are your plans now for the closer future? I was really devasted to not tour this fall. I was very much interested to drive around America a month before the presidential election. We were also going to Europe, maybe even Mexico and South America. I’m very sad to not do that. I don’t know when that’s going to be possible.

Thank you for the interview!

https://www.bedroomdisco.de/2020/09/will-butler-interview/

[purplesurveys]

1286

MULTIMEDIA

What did you think was the worst movie of all time?  Me Before You was a waste of my time, and my bitterness is also fueled by the fact that I paid to see it in the cinema because my friends had wanted to see it back then haha. It’s not even a movie I’d typically check out, so yeah the idea of having paid for it still irks me to ths day lmao.

If you could be any celebrity, who would you be and why?  Hayley Williams. I just wanna experience being as cool and talented as her and have her wardrobe and have her sweet personality and funky vibe for a day.

Ever buy a bootlegged VHS or DVD? If so, of what?  Yes. When my parents got me hooked to the sitcom Perfect Strangers, my dad bought me a bootlegged box set of all eight seasons because at the time they had only officially released DVDs for the first two. I think they’ve since released the entire series on DVD now but to my knowledge it’s only available in the States or in that part of the world, so. Boo.

Would you rather watch movies at home or in the theater? At home. Theaters are too cold for me, and I hate that tickets are pricey. I will only watch at the cinema if it’s a movie I’ve been really really REALLY looking forward to seeing. What kind of food do you buy at the theater?  I get a bucket of French fries from this local brand. They have really good powdered fries and I’ve never gotten any other food from any other place in like the last 15 years I’ve been going to the cinemas haha.

What artist do you love to sing along with?  Adele, Hayley Williams, BTS but only the singing parts because I find it impossible to rap in Korean.

What artist do you think has no right to be as popular as they are?  This is probably just my age speaking but uh I’m gonna go with those who got their fame from viral videos doing nothing impressive...like the Bhad Bhabie girl.

What’s a song that makes you cry? (come on, there has to be one)  I avoid those these days, but some songs that have historically made me cry are Reflection by RM; Life Goes On by BTS; 26 by Paramore; or Why We Ever by Hayley Williams.

What movie makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts?  I doubt it could ever make me laugh as much as it did the first time, but I howled at the scene in The Proposal where Sandra Bullock and Betty White chanted to Get Low.

Are there any dance/action/fighting scenes from a movie you can perform?  The dance number of We’re All In This Together from High School Musical is forever embedded in my brain; that was THE dance to memorize for like 7 year olds in 2005 lmao. I also have Audrey Hepburn’s Bohemian dance scene from Funny Face completely memorized, but just in my head. I’d never dance it on my own.

Is there any movie you can quote word for word?  Titanic would be one of them.

LOVE AND DATING.

What do you think of kissing on the first date?  I dunno. I’ve never tried it and I don’t think I’d go for this.

Have you ever experienced unrequited love?  Mhm, for a time when my ex moved on from me.

Have you ever dreamt about your crush/significant other?  I’ve dreamt about a past partner both during and after our relationship, but for the latter case they’ve all been nightmares.

Was it a good dream, or a nightmare?  They have been both.

Do the words “I Love You” scare you?  I don’t think it ever did. Saying it has always felt natural to me.

Have you ever wanted to ask someone out but didn’t? Why?  Nope. In the two times I got the urge to do this, I did it both times; I don’t like missing out on things that would potentially make me happy.

Have you ever been on a blind date?  No, not interested.

THE PAST.

What was your favorite childhood toy?  Plastic soldiers, clay, or cash registers.

Did you play with kids in your neighborhood when you were little?  Yup. I stopped talking to them when our family moved out of our duplex, though. I’ll occasionally stumble upon them on Facebook since my cousin continues to be friends with them, but I don’t act upon it.

How many times have you moved?  Three that I had the consciousness to remember, but I know my parents moved quite a bit when I was a few months old.

What were your “awkward years”?  Aren’t our teen years generally understood as the awkward years, though? Anyway, mine were from age 11 to probably around 15. I started loosening up and finding my groove by junior year of high school.

Did you have a security blanket/stuffed animal you always slept with?  No. I’ve always just preferred an extra pillow that I could hug.

What was your favorite childhood TV show?  I grew up obsessed with Hi-5 and Spongebob.

Movie?  Still from childhood? Toy Story. I also probably watched Rapunzel a hundred times.

Did you have lots of new toys or hand-me-downs?  My parents bought me toys but were never excessive. They knew I had the tendency to lose interest in toys like 10 minutes after buying it for me lmao, so they made sure I only had just enough.

Is there anything you would change about your childhood if you could? I wish I was raised somewhere other than a dysfunctional home with relatives who regularly drank or smoked in front of me.

THE FUTURE.

Do you want to live in the same town for the rest of your life?  No. It would be great to move to a more urban city, but I think I’d find most happiness in a different country altogether.

Do you worry about the future a lot?  It makes feel wistful and lonely more than giving me worry.

What’s the next big event you’re counting down to?  An online concert on the 24th.

What kind of technology advances are you expecting?  A completely cashless country plz. I know this is already the case in many advanced countries, but I live in the Philippines...so.

Do you believe in a date for the end of the world?  Sure, but there would literally be no one left by the time that happens.

How do you think it will come about, anyway?  I dunno. I don’t really think about it.

YOUR THOUGHTS.

Do you believe in all the teachings of your religion?  I don’t have a religion. I was raised in one but I fucking hated its teachings so much I disowned it as soon as I felt brave enough to.

If you could go back in time for 1 week, what date would you return to?  Mmm probably from that week I saw Paramore in 2018. I had SO MUCH fun and I don’t regret having literally 0 photos from that night.

What do you feel is the best source of venting sorrow or anger?  I think it differs for everyone, but for me I like turning to YouTube videos to calm down. Surveys are a good outlet too.

Do you believe in magic?  No.

Are computers annoying or helpful?  Helpful but invasive.

Does laundry really need to be separated into colors and whites?  Yeah, at least that’s what my parents tell me.

What’s the best place to meet new people?  That’s not really my thing as I like sticking to my circle, but the best place to meet temporary friends, at least, are bars. Everyone gets friendlier there and it’s all a bunch of fun.

Can the future be predicted? To an extent. Sometimes we can just see things coming. < Yeah, just in this sense. But I don’t believe in fortune telling or anything else people practice that make them claim they can tell the future.

Why do you fill out these surveys?  It lets me talk about things I would otherwise never talk about with anyone. It’s also a safe space that lets me process my feelings or vent.

FAVORITES.

Attraction at a zoo/carnival:  Pass.

Brand of peanut butter:  I don’t have a preference. I love peanut butter so any brand will do for me haha, as long as it’s not too dry that it sticks to my teeth or the roof of my mouth.

Planet: Saturn. < Hey, same!

Foreign food:  Indian, Singaporean, Thai, Korean.

Way to torture someone:  Kindness.

Flavor of muffin:  Chocolate.

Toothpaste brand:  I don’t have a favorite.

Piece of memorabilia in your room:  I don’t really have a single favorite piece of memorabilia, but I do have a BTS corner with all my merch (so far) neatly lined up and displayed. :) I’d say that’s my favorite part about my room. Writing utensil:  I’m into Pilot pens.

Extracurricular activity:  Table tennis!

Person to pick on:  Angela, probs.

[celtics534]

Hi! I just saw a set of pics of Rosalie Leslie and Kit Harington, him kissing her with his hands cradling her face while they were in a pub, i suppose (idk how to send them to you tho). I was wondering if you like the idea, obviously, could you use those pics as inspiration for a hinny fic? Something about the press finding out that they are, in fact, together after a year or two of speculations, maybe? Thank you either way! Can’t wait for more of your works! Stay safe!

Without Fear

Such a fun prompt! I just couldn’t deny the cuteness of this photo when I Googled it! I hope you like my hinny take on the cuteness :) It’s a Muggle, Actor AU and the title is based on the song Without Fear by Dermot Kennedy 

Also read on: FF.net and AO3

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He hadn't ever considered how easy it would be to fall in love with Ginny Weasley. But of course, Harry was more of a jump in feet first kind of bloke. When he'd seen her at that war memorial, the only thought that went through his head was how gorgeous she was. Then when she had come up to the same placard and started talking to him… well, needless to say, he was enamored by her. Her hair, eyes, voice, the words she said. It was safe to say Ginny Weasley had his heart the minute they met.

At first, she didn't tell him her name (later, she explained it was because she didn't want him to get washed up by the fact that she was the main actress on a sports TV drama). To be fair, Harry hadn't exactly been forthcoming with his name (he hated dealing with the press when they recognized him for his role as the infamous serial killer hunter of the movies). Even without names, they chatted like they'd known each other since birth.

Ginny had explained how her brother had died fighting to save a young boy who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Harry had pointed to the name of the godfather he'd barely gotten the chance to know. He'd comforted her and she had started to soothe a bone-deep pain in him that he hadn't even known was there. Which was why they had decided to go and get coffee. Neither wanted to leave the other.

The little coffee shop had allowed them seclusion and solitude. They'd talked for hours and only separated when the shop was closing. As they were standing up to leave, Harry helped Ginny into her coat, and when she turned around with that adorable smile Harry, couldn't help but press his lips to hers. It wasn't a long kiss, maybe two seconds at most, but the moment their lips touched a buzz spread through Harry's body from the top of his head down to his toes. What made it that much better was when he pulled back, Ginny's fingers slid into his hair and pulled him back to her.

That night started the happiest time of his life. Ginny brought out a side of life that Harry hadn't experienced before. Normally, things were complicated in his life. Between losing his parents and godfather before turning eighteen, dodging the press, fangirls, and family members that never gave a damn about him until he earned some money, Harry had never expected much out of life or people. Then Ginny Weasley changed everything.

She made love seem so… easy. He was able to be himself near her. She laughed at his horrible puns, teased him for his inability to say cinnamon, and held him close every time he needed her. It was simple and it was them. They spent every night they could together. Luckily both their jobs were situated in London so meeting at his or her flat was easy.

The only mark against their relationship was the paparazzi. Early on in their relationship, they'd agreed that they didn't want the whole world to know about their relationship. But of course, it was impossible to completely dodge the leeches that the rest of the world called the press. They were spotted on their way to an England versus Wales rugby match. To be fair, their low riding caps weren't the best disguise, but they'd hoped to at least make it to the field before being noticed. From that day on the Harry and Ginny watch became a crowd favorite. It became nearly impossible for them to go anywhere together without making the news, and that was when the reporters only knew about their platonic relationship! He feared the day they found out the two of them were dating… and now dating for over a year, in fact.

He could remember the way Ginny had laughed the time they had been spotted going to the zoo. While eating breakfast, Ginny had been flicking through her tablet at the different new sites she frequented when she had nearly choked on her toast. Harry had looked up from his bowl of Shreddies instantly concerned, to only be greeted by her laughter "Look at this title!" Ginny had said through her cackles. "Potter Bananas For Weasley."

The accompanying photo of them watching a group of monkeys was expertly taken. Somehow they'd caught Harry watching Ginny as she watched the monkeys. She read the article out loud to him, teasing him for the title the paper had given him, "Heart-eyed Harry is rather adorable."

"There is no way they can see that from that angle." Harry had rolled his eyes, his words coming out in a huff of air. "I mean sure, you and I both know that I'm pathetically... besotted with you, but that interloper can't tell —"

When Ginny's palms came around to cup his cheeks his tangent ended, his words being swallowed by her mouth. Ginny had kissed him like the world was ending, a reckless abandonment that left his kitchen chair on only three legs. When she pulled back, her hands held his face firmly in place. "I'm besotted with you too, you know that right?"

Harry's mind had been wiped clean by her hypnotizing kiss, but he's managed a little nod. "I know, love."

"So don't let this get under your skin." She'd pressed a final kiss to the tip of his nose before going back to her reading.

That had been four months ago and sometimes it still popped into Harry's mind. It had been so easy for her to bring him out of the brooding tyrant. No one else in his life had ever been able to do that. Not his heinous aunt that raised him, not his godfather who was there briefly in his teen years, none of his teachers or friends during his school year. No, it was the one and only Ginny Weasley that was able to pull Harry from one of his moods.

Harry never thought he was capable of love. Between his parents being murdered by a psychopath before his second birthday, an abusive aunt and uncle, losing his godfather to war only three years after meeting him… Harry had always thought he was stunted. His first relationship had ended before it had even started and the next five attempts weren't much better. But with Ginny, his normal anxieties and fears vanished. He became a better man while with her. She was the best part of him and he loved her with every fiber of his being

And because he loved her, Harry was willing to put on this damn monkey suit and go to a blasted party. His reflection in the mirror showed his disdain for the confining suit and dark green noose he tied around his neck. If he had it his way, Harry would never change out of his ratty old jeans and soft t-shirts. But for Ginny, he was willing to sacrifice a night. Tonight was about her and the unforgettable season they had just finished recording.

"Looking rather dashing there, Potter."

Harry used the mirror to look at the doorway where Ginny leaned against the jamb. She had changed into a simple, yet elegant knee-length black dress with a light white jacket covering her freckled shoulders The little make-up she'd used highlighted her natural beauty perfectly. And then there was the wide-brimmed hat she used to complete the ensemble. She was bloody gorgeous.

She was smirking at him as if she knew exactly how just the sight of her made him lose all conscious thought. "Cat got your tongue?"

He shook his head, before doing a one-eighty to see more than just the reflection of her. Somehow she was even more stunning like this. From the high heeled boots she wore to the top of the hat perched on her head… His legs moved on their own accord. Before he even realized it, he was standing in front of her.

"You look… too good for words," Harry murmured into her ear as he leaned down. His fingers slid across the silky material covering her salacious curves as his lips traveled down her jaw line. Before he reached his destination (her mouth), Ginny put a hand on his chest pushing him back.

"Whoa now, partner." She smiled at him, her eyes blazing with the same intensity of a smoldering fire. "No getting distracted. We can't be late. Everyone is expecting me and my best friend there for eight."

Harry let out a long breath through his nose. Best friend. That's what Ginny's co-stars had dubbed him. It irked him that they were right, but yet so far from the truth. Of course, most thought they were best friends with benefits, which again wasn't wrong but he and Ginny were so much more!

Sometimes, Harry wanted to scream how much he loved her from the rooftops. He wanted everyone within the United Kingdom to know how he was in love with the most witty, sexy, creative, intelligent woman in the world. But then he thought of how the press already followed them around everywhere they went. Harry could only imagine how insane they would be if they knew about their relationship, and the idea of people digging into their personal lives… Harry honestly was afraid of it.

He hardly handled the fame he had now, if there was more focus on them… Sure, they already dealt with reporters implying about their relationship, but it was easy to ignore because they were typically outlandish rumors. Like the idea Ginny was sleeping with Harry so she could slyly learn to cover up a murder based on the information he learned in his movies (which was Ginny's favorite scandal theory). But if the paparazzi knew about their love life… if things became real… it was odd to say, but the idea of it weighed heavy on his chest. He feared the loss of privacy. He feared the loss of them.

"Harry?" Ginny was staring at him, her brow scrunched in concern. "Everything alright?"

He nodded, trying to dig his mind out of the what-if chasm. "Yeah. Yeah."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, you know." Harry forced a smile onto his face. "How you're going to be the talk of the party in this outfit."

Ginny snorted, as she gave her hair an exaggerated flip "Please, I'm all these people ever seem to talk about." A sly grin formed on her lips. "Me and who my boo might be."

Harry groaned, letting his head fall onto her shoulder. "It's been three months and they are still on that?"

Ginny chuckled as her hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Please, they heard us shagging in a locked closet, they aren't bound to forget it. We're just lucky I didn't say your name while those nosy Nellies were listening in on us." Her hand stopped and Harry looked up to see that mischievous smile that always made his belly flutter. "Really, you only have yourself to blame."

Harry's brow furrowed. "And how exactly is it my fault?"

"Wellllll," Ginny dragged out the last syllable. "If you hadn't come to my set looking so… fit and sexy after that workout, I wouldn't have had to drag you to that closet." She rose to the tips of her toes, placing her lips right outside of her ear. "Remember?"

The shiver that ran down Harry's spine spread a tingling sensation from his toes up to the tips of his fingers. He licked his lips, inhaling her scent with every breath he took. "Hmmm." The words came out as a soft groan. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "Maybe I could use a little refresher. Care to help give me a little reminder?"

Ginny practically purred in his ear. "I think that can be arranged." She ran her tongue lightly along his jaw before placing a kiss just under his ear. Then before Harry knew what happened she was out of his arms, standing just out of his grasp. "After the party."

Harry's jaw fell open as he stared at his girlfriend. "You're sadistic, that's what you are!"

She laughed. "And you adore me for it."

"I never said that." But the smile spreading across his face removed all the bite from his words.

"Your eyes speak volumes."

"Oh, and what are they saying right now?"

Ginny's grin became coquettish. "How you need a little extra time to get ready because something needs tending too." Her eyes raked down his body, lingering around his hips. "Then again it might not be your eyes displaying this information."

Harry made a face at her. "Well really, you only have yourself to blame for this."

She snorted. "Is that so?" She took a step back into his bubble, her hands running along his sides. "Well if that's the case I should give you a hand, shouldn't I?"

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Harry glared from his sentry at the corner of the bar. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes crafting a list on why he hated parties. Currently, he was on number twenty: drunk people were the worst.

Maybe his disapproving opinion was due to the numerous drunk men (and women) who had gone up to his girlfriend to make moves on her. His jaw clenched painfully as he watched yet another co-star approach Ginny. Sure she was denying their advances with ease, but that didn't mean Harry liked it. But they'd agreed a long time ago that when they went to events they would try to mingle with others so as to not raise suspicions about their relationship.

But everytime Harry was faced with watching hoards of people flirt with his girlfriend… Why the fuck did he care if people knew about their relationship? Sure paparazzi would follow them around, but they all ready fucking did that. And they would ask personal questions about their relationship, but half the time they just threw out wild accusations as it was.

Harry took another sip from his whiskey tumblr, the cold liquid going hot down his throat. His foot started tapping to the rhythm of the classic rock song blaring on the radio. As he stood their listening to overplayed tune, sipping his drink, and watching his girlfriend be hit on for the sixth time in twenty minutes, Harry concluded they had been stupid. Their fear of the press was unwarranted. They had feared things that weren't truly scary. They dealt with most of it already (just in rumor format), so what would the truth truly do to them? What had been cons just hours before suddenly took a new light.

As he brooded, Ginny chatted with her co-star. This particular star had been the biggest perpetrator of the flirt with Ginny squad. Every party or gathering he would shoot his shot. Ginny had assured Harry numerous times that Glenn was just a flirty bloke, and there had never been a spark between the two of them. Harry trusted Ginny completely, but Glenn was always on his shit list—and was now currently at the top as he pulled Ginny out into the middle of the pub to start dancing.

Ginny made eye contact with Harry as she followed her friend onto the makeshift dance floor, her smile reassuring and happy as she and Glenn began to dance. The wink she sent him made butterflies erupt in his gut, like it was the first time. Harry couldn't take his eyes of them… off Ginny. She truly was gorgeous when she was having fun. Her bright smile, the gleam in her eyes, and how could he ignore the way her hips moved.

Harry could never remember ever having an urge to dance, but as he saw Ginny and Glenn… It wasn't an urge to dance, he realized. It was the urge to be with her. The desire to have his hands on her waist while she smiled at him.

He let out a long breath, before downing the rest of his drink. He couldn't care anymore. The fears that had held him back for so long became nullified. Now all he cared about was making sure she knew how much he loved her, and that he would be there with her through anything and everything. Harry refused to acknowledge the fear that had formed in the pit of his stomach as he marched up towards his dancing girlfriend and her co-star.

Ginny's eyes met his. When he was about halfway to her, her head quirked to the side and she stopped moving. Glenn spun around, his expression going from confused to annoyed. Harry could muster up a single fuck over Glenn's disappointment.

"What's up, Potter?" Glenn asked, his fake smile sliding to counter his irked tone.

Harry didn't even bother to dignify the actor with a response. Instead all his focus was on Ginny. Her eyebrows were scrunched together as if she were trying to read his mind. He cupped her face, his large hands seeming to swallow her face.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny whispered as she stared up at him. Her hand came up to lift the brim of her hat, giving him full access to study her expression. The light flush that darkened her cheeks in the faint pub light complimented the wide smile that crinkled the corner of her eyes. She looked… overwhelmingly happy.

"I — I just." He leaned down and kissed her, not truly noticing/ caring about the crowds of people around them or flashes of smartphone cameras. All that mattered at that moment was her and the way her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned into him.

When he pulled away Ginny's mouth remained slightly apart as she slowly opened her eyes. "So." Her voice was deep and husky. "I think you may have just blown our cover."

Harry laughed, leaning down so his forehead rested on hers. "I don't care."

Ginny's fingers caressed his jaw. "And what, pray tell, has made you so without fear? What changed?"

He happily leaned into her touch. "All I care about is being with you. Who cares what all these people think."

A mischievous smirk curled her lips as her eyes twinkled delightfully. "Well then, what would you say about putting on a little show for our first public outing?"

Harry slid his hands up her jaw to twist in her hair, before leaning down. He smiled against her lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[howdytherepardner]

a tale of two fountains or maybe tributes to "great men"

spires of caverns and pits and spikes; all in aggregate seem to suggest that it could not all have been constructed with care yet each one constructed with too much care for one to bear. cascading semi-chlorinated water separated and dispersed through multitude arteries abruptly exposed to the world around it, standing alone in a vernal pool tucked between decadence and the machines driving legacies of wealth and influence. despite the drapings of grandeur and the mythos surrounding it, it is not unknowable. any outside perspective would give you something to remember it by, but the spears are not a strong enough defense to hides its insides. this unrelenting, static chaos holds an eye of stability; not precise to guarantee protection, but enough to assure that anyone brave enough to venture within will know some measure of relief from the world that surrounds it and the world that it is.

~

i wander down an exposed stairwell with my prox and a towel, wearing only a linting mask and old swim shorts. the paved surfaces that my journey follows range from smoother cement to asphalt jagged with berries from trees that would never realize their evolutionary purpose. it is not the first time i have decided to sit under the fountain of freedom ahead of me arriving at it, but it is the first in memory that i have been so prepared. normally, a pair of briefs would get soaked while too many things sat on the stairs anticipating the emergence of my dripping form, which would continue until i made it back to my room. but there i was. i have never been particularly good at meditation, and would only claim to have “achieved” a meditative state a few moments in my life, but media depictions of water falls as a particular source for finding some form of releasing outer thoughts; it seems to work well enough, but perhaps i just enjoy the spectacle. this night, there were only a few pairs that sat along the side of water, so not too much of an audience, but enough for me to wonder what they thought as i hung my towel and mask on “Double Sights” and sloshed my way to the tower. normally i might set myself directly under a narrow cascade or in the eye, but this session i remained at a static point in orbit: my legs soaked and my arms quickly coated by innumerable droplets, but my hair only catching the most divergent skydivers, the back of my neck losing its dryness only to sweat and humidity.

it’s a place of security, your conversations drowned out by incessant waters, and in close enough proximity, your own thoughts as well. that was the aim of my venture up campus. i’ve been struggling to fall asleep lately. my body will be exhausted from interactions and activities (walking to class? inconceivable) enough that i give up on work earlier in the night and pray that an earlier sleep will restore some greater stamina. the mind however is plagued with sensations of the time that i’m wasting THERE ARE ONLY 22 WEEKS OF SCHOOL LEFT AND YOU’RE SITTING IN YOUR FUCKING ROOM WHAT HAPPENED TO THE YOU THIS SUMMER WHO WAS READY TO SEE PEOPLE AND LIVE AGAIN, the regrets i am well beyond amending THIS IS JUST HOW YOU WERE FRESHMAN AND SOPHOMORE YEAR HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING WITH YOUR IVY LEAGUE TRANSCRIPT, and other anxieties I AM FAILING ALREADY. I AM INDEED TAKING IT ALL FOR GRANTED, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT PRINCETON OPINION PERSON? I AM DISAPPOINTING MY FRIENDS AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER INVESTED CAUSE OR CONCERN IN MY SUCCESS AND WELL-BEING. of course, the mind is of body as well, and these permeate through the rest of me. i haven’t felt health for a while THOUGH I’M SURE THAT’S JUST THE COVID THAT I’VE DEFINITELY CONTRACTED AND SPREAD TO MY LOVED ONES or the scattered eating and sleeping schedule compounding into no full restoration. most of the time, this leads to a shirtless run on the towpath (if i’m not doing school work, i might as well perfect this bag of bones), but Ida has eroded many segments to the bottom of the canal, so darker nights may not be the best for it AND MY VISION SEEMS TO BE GETTING WORSE EVERY DAY, SO IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME UNTIL THE BODY SURRENDERS ANY SHRED OF WORTH ENTIRELY.

but that night was not humid, and chilly waters woke me to ensure i was fully experiencing my slate slowly being washed away. worries seem to just slip away from me, like a patagonia in any of the clubs’ coat rooms. i feel the effortless mind of my body switch on the ignition, turning all engines to ensure that i freezen’t in the water, and i can stretch each muscle individually as i am asked to confront the prospect of how this form is treated. and i can breathe again, full and deep, and i feel like i am able to get up and face the world as it comes once more.

~

Scudder Plaza may be the most relaxing spot on campus: you can catch the cooling spray from James FitzGerald’s monumental sculpture, Fountain of Freedom, or be soothed by the sounds of its cascading water. At twenty-three feet high, Fountain of Freedom is one of the largest cast bronze sculptures in the U.S. Inspired by the rugged beauty of the artist’s native Pacific Northwest, the grooves, channels, and spires of the six-ton sculpture—reminiscent of naturally eroded forms—are meant to symbolize Woodrow Wilson’s aspirations and frustrations. … Seven hundred gallons of water are recirculated through the fountain each minute and are sprayed through an intricate system of fifty major pressure valves and more than 1,000 pin-hold jets. (x)

~

but tower 4 is some distance from those 4 towers. and without jets pushing them back, many things come crawling back. i am looking down to the basement cafe with its lights out, wondering if the people coming my way were laughing at my relative under-dress, when i decide that i cannot go home yet. i complete another barefoot walk across campus, and lay my towel down as a seat at my penultimate resting place.

~

its silhouette a vague enough [cardioid of sorts] to prevent any association based on shape alone, your expectations may be higher than what you need. it is a piece of furniture in name and in relativity to form, something regarded briefly in the minds’ eye and then passed by just as quickly. its flows ooze at a steady rate, in synch such that it never appears to be moving at all; the only proof that it is, really, is the shading below coming from beyond the light and the drippings at its bottom hidden from view. those surface shimmers make a soft sound, but on touch simply flow between the fingertips. a single indentation on the surface has received a few stones of the many that live below its form, placed there by hands other than its creator; certainly, they gave their vision the precise amount of care and intent required to manifest it. an illusion that what it emits has eroded it over many years to a smooth shape, but with the truth that it is still very young and remains solid within.

~

it would not feel quite right to sit atop einstein’s table, so i sit on the concrete next to the square of rocks. even with consistent eye contact, its subtle streaming does little to shield spectators from the world outside. a car driving by listening to top hits from summers past, a few pedestrians making their pilgrimage for late night snacks; every little itch on the surface of my skin, and of course, bare exposure to every THIS and THAT in a state of overwhelming stillness. but in all, it comes to pass, and my brain is left backtracking to the overwhelming stillness i have known in recent months. i am nostalgic for my University Mandated Quarantine Walks, particularly one alone in the mountain lakes preserve after my first snow back. i am nostalgic for early autumn days looking at the sun reflected off a pond. i am nostalgic for the waiting to find out where i’d spend my junior year, the waiting to receive messages and letters from friends. restless simplicity, anticipation for better things that, well, i guess are supposed to be the present. it doesn’t really feel that way now. as SENTIMENTS have alluded to, i am struggling to make it through right now. instead of a senior year that serves as the culmination of all that came before, i feel instead trapped in shitty replays of the past 3 years. like a script composed of false cognates, it feels like i understand what is happening right now and it makes no sense.

~

Near the earthwork is “Einstein’s Table,” made of jet mist granite and inspired by Albert Einstein’s theory on black holes. Lin noted that the theory was validated last year during the creation of the table. Outer space and constellations were a source of inspiration for both projects, she said.

During the hourlong conversation, Lin shared details of her process from start to finish, which included many adjustments along the way. “With every artwork there might be six to eight models,” she said. “I’m always teaching myself about the site, so that I’m preparing myself for what it’s going to be like to be on site.” (x)

~

but i think i am mostly wondering about how similarly others are feeling. it appears to me that my peers are sliding right back into the chaos of the now, festive in the face of it all and doing everything i tell myself i should be doing right now. do i come off that way to them? does anyone really know how to express these feelings 100 leagues below the surface, or is it just me? what feels true to me, and what leads me to rise from my seat next to the table and return home, is that i must continue. there is little option now but to follow through on this all until the end of the line, whenever it may come; maybe that comes easier for some people now, but i think i’ll make it eventually. i am not entirely sad and i am not entirely happy, but i am here. i think i want to help people despite not being perfect at it, and i am here. all things for granted or not, i am here. i will continue to get cold under one monument and never deny the temptation to touch another passing by, because i know those are things i like to think. i hope you know you can talk to me always.

[becomewings]

Hi! What do you think is the significance of the umbrella/Jimin? It's being mentioned again. We recently saw it again in bbc live for Boy With Luv. We saw it before when he received an umbrella in exchange at the magic shop, and when Hoseok took the girl to hospital.

CW: contains mentions of trauma, blood, & drowning

Hello dear anon and thank you for your question! I will do my best to explain my interpretation and also provide a little more context for those who may be less familiar with the references you made.

I’m guessing that when you say it’s being “mentioned again,” you’re referring to the new third story of the Smeraldo Blog posted on July 15th, in which the florist Testesso witnesses a young man with an umbrella standing outside his unfinished shop during a typhoon. (If that wasn’t what you meant, please let me know!) The identity of the young man is unconfirmed, but plausible options include JiMin, due to the umbrella connection, and SeokJin, who is the only character so far who has definitely interacted with the florist in previous timelines. (Side note: if anyone would like to learn more about the contents of the Smeraldo Blog and the different versions of the stories, this post is a wonderful resource and is currently being updated for the 2020 revisions.) Second, I admit that due to the time difference I was unable to watch BangBangCon Live, so I had to search for some footage of the Boy With Luv performance. It looks like they all dance with umbrellas, though it’s perhaps a little striking that TaeHyung tosses his umbrella to JiMin at the beginning of the song. Regardless of the young man’s identity in the Smeraldo post and whether the BWL umbrella prop is a coincidence or a loose reference to BU (it certainly wouldn’t be the first time they incorporated such elements in their live shows and VCRs!), yes, JiMin’s connection to the umbrella is significant.

As you mentioned, in the Fake Love Teaser 1 we see JiMin exchange a photo of the arboretum for an umbrella in the video’s imagining of the Magic Shop. According to the teaser, “‘Magic Shop is a psychodramatic technique that exchanges fear for a positive attitude.” Psychodrama is a form of psychotherapy that engages clients’ self-reflections and insights with dramatizations and role-playing. Some Googling reveals that the real Magic Shop technique is broader than what is defined in the teaser, but it suffices for our purposes right now in considering BU.

JiMin’s fear is rooted in the truth of what happened in Grass Flower Arboretum on the day of his school picnic in Year 11. There are two forces that led him to witness/experience this traumatic event in the arboretum warehouse: first, the absence of his parents because they “were too busy to make it.” The mothers of JiMin’s friends praise him for being “mature and gentle.” JiMin seems determined to live up to this impression of maturity, rather than revealing how “down” he felt as the only unaccompanied student. So rather than waiting for his teacher, he sets off for home alone, confident that he can find the way on his own. The second force that leads him to the warehouse is the weather’s turn to rain. It is this element in particular, rather than the neglect of his parents, that stays with him for years to come.

“I began to run, holding my backpack over my head with both hands. The rain kept falling harder and harder. My pants got soaked in the rain after only a few steps. No shop, house, or bus stop came into sight. In the far distance, I could see a gate. I ran towards it without thinking. My hands felt numb from gripping the backpack. I was soaking wet, and my teeth were chattering. On top of the gate was a sign that read Grass Flower Arboretum. It was the back gate. There was a small warehouse just inside the gate.”

— JiMin, 6 April Year 11. The Notes 1.

Young JiMin does not have an umbrella and is forced to seek shelter at the first opportunity, which happens to be the warehouse. Later, he is found unconscious at the arboretum and taken to the hospital. When JiMin reflects on this in the May 11 Year 22 entry of Notes 1, he adds that his parents “didn’t ask any questions” about that or when he eventually developed seizures. There are many “what ifs” surrounding the event of April 6 Year 11. What if JiMin’s parents had accompanied him to the picnic? What if they had paid more attention and provided him an umbrella? What if they had been more present in his life, so that he did not feel the need to mask the disappointment of their absence from his peers and attempt the journey home alone?

But they didn’t, and they weren’t—and young JiMin sets off without an umbrella that day and lives with the consequences. We essentially experience the absence of the umbrella in some of the water imagery connected with JiMin in the MVs. The rest is connected with drowning and cleansing, both literally and metaphorically. As I note in my post Harboring Waters, “throughout the MVs and the Notes, we see that water, the element he uses to cleanse himself, is also the visual metaphor for his trauma. JiMin attempts to wash away his past rather than acknowledging his pain, only to drown again when his memories resurface.” In the years following the incident, he also conflates blood and mud: blood from what he witnessed/experienced in the warehouse and mud from the rain and his lack of umbrella.

“I closed my eyes and wished that this was all a dream and that, when I awoke again, I wouldn’t be able to recall anything.

That wish was just a wish. Instead, a cycle of seizures, injections, and injection-induced sleep that felt like falling off a cliff continued. After I awoke from that sleep, my whole body felt like it was covered with mud. Mud that looked like blood. No matter how hard I tried to wash it off, that warehouse smell lingered. I scrubbed until I bled, but it still felt dirty.”

— JiMin, 11 May Year 22. The Notes 1.

Even though JiMin presumably follows through with his plan on May 19 Year 22 of returning to the arboretum to face his fear (accompanied by YoonGi), he is still vulnerable to the triggers that recall the trauma of his past. On July 4 Year 22, JiMin collides with his dancing partner (HoSeok’s friend) and both are injured. The sight of his own blood nearly shuts him down as he desperately tries to wash it off. This leads to the scene you referenced, which is depicted in the Highlight Reel: JiMin chases after HoSeok and the unconscious girl with an umbrella but soon stops and turns around, realizing he won’t be of any help.

“Every time I took a step, rain splattered onto my sneakers. The headlights of cars swished by me. It’d rained on that picnic day a long time ago, just like today. On that day, I’d run away from the Grass Flower Arboretum. My body was covered with mud that looked like blood. I hadn’t grown up one bit from that little eight-year-old kid.”

— JiMin, 4 July Year 22. The Notes 1.

Now, back to the Magic Shop. JiMin exchanges a photograph representing the source of his fear for an object of protection that might bring him a more “positive attitude.” I think it is worth noting that all of the objects the characters receive from the masked seller are far from representations of lasting joy, and I believe that this was carefully calculated. They are temporary fixes or reassurances in much the same way that SeokJin’s manipulations of the timelines are largely reactive and short-sighted in his efforts to save his friends. An umbrella is only a temporary shelter until the stormy weather has passed; it does not banish the storm itself.

As I have mentioned in my recent JiMin-focused posts, his journey of healing is portrayed, realistically, as a complex one. It is not as simple as facing one’s fears and carrying an umbrella. There are progressions and setbacks, twists and turns on a road that might never truly end. Sometimes the umbrella may shield him from the storm, and sometimes it won’t. When that umbrella takes the shape of friends who accept and love him for who he is, then perhaps they will help guide him one step closer to accepting and loving himself.

I’ll end with one of SeokJin’s narrated quotes in the Highlight Reel, as it feels appropriate and is quite lovely:

“Though many seasons pass, there are places that cannot be reached. Yet another storm to be faced and to be weathered head-on. Loving without fear, hesitating and parting, merely living as the person I am.”

— SeokJin, Love Yourself Highlight Reel '起承轉結'

I hope that gave you some food for thought and wasn’t too long-winded! To anyone with their own ideas and interpretations, I would love to hear them! Please feel free to send them my way along with any other questions or feedback. ♡

[cxhnow]

Chloe x Halle Are Ready to Reintroduce Themselves

The sisters' latest collaboration with Fendi is a testament to their infinite creative potential.

Chloe and Halle Bailey, the sisters behind the R&B duo Chloe x Halle, are at a point in their careers where they're completely and confidently in control. It was evident from the moment they teased their debut single, "Do It," from their second full-length studio album, Ungodly Hour, that the two sisters who were once known for their dazzling YouTube covers of precious pop songs were entering a new and more grown-up musical era.Following the back-to-back releases of stunning music videos and accompanying awards show performances for the singles "Do It" and "Forgive Me," the sisters forayed into another artistic realm—this time, creative direction—displayed in their new campaign for Fendi. Handed complete creative control, the duo showed off the brand's beloved Peekaboo bags with ethereal imagery that is simultaneously sexy yet subdued, much like the sisters' own aesthetic as they enter young womanhood and reintroduce themselves to the music industry and world at large. And by catching the eye of an iconic fashion house, they further proved they aren't kids on YouTube anymore."We've always loved Fendi. I feel like everyone does. And we were really excited when they approached us to do this campaign and how we were able to do it all from home," Chloe tells BAZAAR.com. "We wanted it to feel really flirty, like the Peekaboo purse. We thought, What song do we have that really feels playful and fun and it's teasing you at the same time? And we ended up on 'Busy Boy.'"

In the Chloe x Halle-curated campaign video, the two pose on their now-familiar backyard tennis court (the setting of most of their at-home performances and photo shoots amid the coronavirus pandemic), as well as in the pool and behind a lush tablescape. They wear frilly ruched maxi dresses, platform heeled loafers, and printed boxy blazers juxtaposed with layered nameplate necklaces, chunky belts, and, of course, Fendi's Peekaboo handbags.

"We were like, 'You know what? Let's do it in our backyard, let's make the tennis court more of the aesthetic this time.' Usually, with our live performances, we'll just convert the tennis court into a live stage or something," says Chloe. "But this time we said, 'Let's just take advantage of the tennis court theme and our pool.' And we just had really a lot of fun. My favorite part of the shoot was putting the purse in the water, and then still being able to use it now, because it's dry and all right."

Fashion has served as a vital tool for the sisters in helping curate the sleek and futuristic feel of their new Ungodly Hour era. Their style, their music, and the album's overall narrative all needed to be cohesive and relay a similar message: that young Black women are beautifully complex. It's an ethos that is equally evident throughout their art, minds, and beauty.

"For Ungodly Hour, we realized when we finished it that the messages are much more grown," explains Halle. "We now officially feel like we're coming into our own as young women. I'm 20, my sister is 22, so we wanted to reflect that we are young women and be in the looks that we have for this album. That's why there was latex.

"And even for the album cover—I don't know if you could see, but the chrome wings were very important to us, because we wanted to show that even though women can still be angelic and fragile and beautiful ... we can also be strong and sexy and all of those beautiful personalities that come with being a woman," Halle continues. "So we just wanted to show both sides of everything, that we could be multilayered."

Chloe and Halle say they had zero reservations when it came time to release their new, more mature music into the world. If anything, their revamped image and sound organically reflected the growth and changes they were experiencing as artists, sisters, and Black women.

"When it came to this new album and this new look ... we did not really have any fear when it came to it," says Halle. "Because honestly, this all feels like such a natural transition for us. It's just like us turning into butterflies. We're going through these things, the experiences are actually happening to us.

"You know, we grew up on YouTube," Halle continues. "People have been watching us sing since we were 10 and eight years old. So I can completely understand how people would be like, 'Oh, my goodness, I'm just now realizing they don't stay 10 and eight years old forever. They're actually now 20 and 22 years old.' I think it's a beautiful transition that's happened, and I think it's really exciting and encouraging to hear from our peers and our supporters that they understand it and that they are proud of us."

It's evident that Chloe x Halle's new work is resonating too. Just this week, a group of dancers performed breathtaking, socially distanced choreography to the duo's track "Baby Girl" in honor of the countless number of Black women whose lives have been lost either to police brutality or domestic violence over the years. Both sisters were in awe that a song they wrote about heartbreak, vulnerability, and loneliness would translate to such a meaningful soundtrack for a larger movement.

"[The video] was one of the most incredible feelings," Chloe says. "We were on Instagram and Amandla [Stenberg] DMed it to us. She was like, 'Did you guys see this?' So I watched it, but then I kept going back to it. I remember the first time I saw it, it made me cry. Seeing the mural of all the beautiful women who have lost their lives. And it just was really inspiring.

"Now, 'Baby Girl' has a completely different meaning to me, even when we were the ones who wrote it," Chloe continues. "And before, I would listen to that song and I would feel really discouraged and I'd need to uplift myself and remember, no matter what you go through, no matter the trials and tribulations, you will rise on top. It's your world. It's okay."

"I remember when we made 'Baby Girl,' in Malibu, and we were just emotionally feeling insecure and needing just words of encouragement," adds Halle. "So the words in that song became a mantra to ourselves, to our hearts, our own hearts. The fact that people can feel lifted up by those words and create something that beautiful, it blows my mind every time. And it makes me so grateful and blessed to be able to be a storyteller.

"When you're trying to release art and music during a time like this," she continues, "it's very interesting, because you think to yourself, 'Will this be healing? What can I do to use my voice? What can people take out of this? How can this make them feel better?' I feel like collectively as a Black community, we are all grieving together. During [times like now], music has always been our savior. "

These new chapters in Chloe and Halle's work represent a new era of growth. Their success thus far stems from their inner confidence; they look to themselves as the ultimate sources of inspiration.

"I love how you can see how [we've grown] through the art. With our first EP, Sugar Symphony, we were so young. We were just getting our little feet wet with actually being proud of the original music we were making," says Chloe. "And then up to now, we're feeling competent in who we are as young women and when it comes to our artistry. But now we're learning about ourselves internally and what makes us tick, what makes us happy, and knowing that it's okay to be multilayered."

These recent undertakings serve as a reminder that the sisters are only just getting started. And we're eagerly awaiting the fruits of their endlessly artistic and innovative minds.

[lt2archive]

The former One Direction star and solo artist reveals his plans to manage woman rock bands, and tackles those pesky One Direction rumours

24 November 2020 • 4:05pm

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, and his girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty. Tomlinson will also be donating money to his own touring crew, many of which have been out of work since March. “I've been incredibly worried about them and felt incredibly powerless, so wanted to give something back.”

The gig also means a great deal to Tomlinson on a personal level. His first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time to see his four-year-old son, Freddie, whom he shares with his ex Briana Jungwirth, a stylist. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

Tickets for Louis Tomlinson Live In London are on sale tomorrow from 4pm