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stonesparrow · 3 years

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For the dr.stone x atla crossover I feel that even if Hyoga is or was a soldier in the fire army he wouldn’t have liked the idea of a nations worth of centuries of knowledge pasted down through generations being wiped of the face of the earth.

I just had a thought Hyoga could be a soldier in the fire army but he could also be a master instructor at his own dojo he inherited from his master kinda like master Piandao. He’s still a fire bender though.

Also I think I would be a cute and funny plot twist if he has a daughter who is still young but old enough to help fight and strong enough to thanks her dad training her. I think he’d be the same tough and cold character he is but he’s surprisingly tender, caring, gental, and kind to her in his own way that would just make the characters in the dr.stone universe jaws hit the floor lol.

Ah, you do have a point with Hyoga likely being disappointed that the knowledge of airbending was lost to genocide - all those ancient techniques would probably be really fascinating to him as a martial artist. Though I can also see him buying into the Fire Nation’s imperialist message of “we are the strongest nation, so we should rule over all the weaker nations.”

I like your idea that Hyoga is a fighting instructor, with his values he’d probably be something like Zuko in skillset - he puts a lot of effort into firebending, but also into spearfighting since he deeply respects the nonbender master who taught it to him. At the same time he has no time for people who either don’t take it seriously or are too weak to make a difference.

(More under the cut because this got long)

Him having a kid is an interesting plot twist and while it’s more twisty than I’d expect, I’m kind of intrigued by the potential it has. Though that also brings up the question of who the kid’s mom is, and when the kid was born (I estimate Hyoga’s age in DCST to be around 20-22). Homura maybe? Like...perhaps Hyoga and Homura were both fairly high class and had an arranged marriage, but while Homura fell in love with him as they grew up together Hyoga only respected her as a friend and fellow fighter.

And then if they had a daughter (maybe pressured by both their parents to produce an heir of some sort) it could make them both more complex characters. If the kid was really strong though I’d lean more towards an Ozai-Azula like dynamic with Hyoga impressing his values of “only the strong and skilled deserve to live,” onto her. Plus if we’re keeping relative canon ages then I’d estimate Homura to be 20, Hyoga to be 22, and their daughter to be 2 by the time Team Avatar shows up in the Fire Nation to do their thing.

However...I can see some potential with the kid turning out physically weak, and that throwing Hyoga’s values into wack.

Let’s say the toddler was born healthy and strong and an assessment by some Fire Sages said that she’d become an extremely powerful bender - this pleases Hyoga, since he can’t imagine having fathered a weak child with him and Homura’s combined firebending ability. And indeed, by the time the kid is two she shows signs of firebending power well beyond her age group, with Hyoga planning to train her into an extraordinarily strong warrior.

Except with such a strong fire at such a young age, the little girl suddenly falls terribly ill, having raging fevers and struggling to breathe. Hyoga’s ideals would tell him that such an ill child will die, and that’s that, the weak and ill perish while the strong survive. But he finds himself insisting that the kid will survive, because she’s strong, she has to survive. She’ll recover and become the strongest firebender this side of the Nation, not die a weakling.

Some time later, the Gaang shows up to Hyoga’s town to resupply. Pre-Zuko joining but maybe somewhere between meeting Piandao and encountering Combustion Man? Aang decides to visit the local firebending dojo (rip Sokka’s nerves) because hey, he wants to see some firebending techniques from actual benders, and he can tooooootally handle staying low key this time, honest! He encounters Hyoga and gets a fair bit intimidated by him, though Hyoga seems to approve of “Kuzon’s” highly adaptive martial arts style.

At some point, a messenger comes and Hyoga slips away. Being nosy, Aang follows them and catches enough of the conversation to determine that there’s a sick kid living in that fancy mansion, and relays his concerns to the Gaang. Katara immediately wants to investigate further - Sokka is again very stressed but understands that he can’t stop his sister once she’s made a decision (plus this is post Painted Lady and Katara is even more determined not to let children suffer if she can do anything about it). But when she tries the front entrance, the guards won’t let her in, even when she says she’s a healer. In fact, they deny that there’s a sick child at all, while Aang insists he didn’t hear wrong.

So Aang and Katara, ever the problem solvers, break into the mansion (airbending is super useful!) and find the kid’s bedroom. Katara assesses the patient - she determines that even with her waterbending, the kid will likely suffer from complications her whole life due to the damage she’s already sustained. Hyoga suddenly appears, asking them how they got into his house (he’s actually very curious, since they seemed to enter silently and without alerting anyone). When Katara excuses herself and says she’s a healer from the colonies (Aang’s explanation for how Katara has “special healing techniques unlike any other”) and just wanted to help, Hyoga says that he doesn’t need a healer, and that the girl will recover soon. Katara starts to argue and Hyoga starts insinuating that he could easily beat her in combat, when Homura shows up, pleading with Katara to save her daughter.

Hyoga and Homura start arguing, with Homura saying this may be their last chance and Hyoga saying that a true daughter of his would be able to fight off the sickness alone. Homura eventually asks if he’d rather have a dead daughter than a weak one, which makes him go quiet (Aang and Katara are standing there awkwardly watching all of this). Hyoga then calmly says that since they seem to be at a standstill, the reasonable course of action is an Agni Kai (Aang goes pale at this, while Katara doesn’t actually know what that is).

In the courtyard the Gaang watches anxiously as Hyoga and Homura begin their duel, which results in quite a few impressive displays of firebending. Homura however seems to be holding back slightly, more on the run than attacking. At one point Homura gets thrown on her back and nearly burnt, but Katara calls out to her, saying she has to win for the kid. She gets back up and starts attacking Hyoga with renewed resolve, and even Hyoga is surprised.

Hyoga realizes that as loyal as Homura is to him, she really is doing her best to win, even coming at him with direct shots of flame now. And since this is still Hyoga, he respects that deeply - she’s doing things “properly,” even though she doesn’t want to. He even respects that Katara was so dedicated to her role as a healer that she broke into his house just on the mere mention that there was a sick child there.

And in the very bottom of his heart, despite all the talk of strength and weakness and who deserves to live, he has a hard time realizing that he doesn’t want his daughter to die, even if it means she’ll be weak and reliant on others her whole life. This might be a little OOC for canon Hyoga, but hey, it’s an au and maybe if canon Hyoga did have something small and weak to protect, he’d be less of an ass to Senku and company.

So at a key moment in the battle, Hyoga pauses for a split second instead of dodging a blast from Homura and allows himself to be grazed on the chin, reminiscent of his revival scars in canon. It’s not a bad burn, and those watching closely realize that he let her win. Hyoga turns to leave, only saying that Katara will be compensated for her healing services and that they truly did things “properly.”

Katara heals the girl, saying that the fever is gone but her lungs are damaged and she’ll have breathing problems from now on. She’s paid a small sack of gold by a servant that she initially refuses, but takes in the end since it’d probably be good to have extra Fire Nation currency on hand. The Gaang leaves the mansion feeling...a little conflicted about the experience, honestly.

Meanwhile as Homura sits by the girl’s bedside Hyoga appears in the doorway, having treated his burn from the duel. An awkwardly long silence passes before Hyoga says he’s been thinking about the skills that "Kuzon” and “Sapphire” displayed, and that he’s considering buying a home in the colonies so he can learn about those types of skills (since Aang claimed they were from the colonies). He turns to leave, but not before offhandedly saying that the seaside air in the colonies he’s looked at might be good for their daughter’s lungs.

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hlcreators · 4 years

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AUTHOR REC: only_angel_28 / @beau-soleil-louis

Don’t forget to leave kudos and comment to show some love! ♡

a week and thirteen days (1k)

Harry falls in love with the morning sun.

I can’t do this alone (sometimes I just need a light) (7.8k)

“Harry,” he says after another contemplative moment, “can I hug you?”

It’s been...well, Harry doesn’t actually know how long it’s been. Less than an hour, probably, but already Louis says his name like it’s safe in his mouth, and now he’s opening his arms like Harry could be safe there too.

“Please,” Harry nearly sobs, and sinks into him the way butter melts on toast. It’s an apt metaphor, really, because what Louis is giving him is as essential and sustaining as a loaf of bread to a starving man. His basic need for physical affection is as vital as his need for sustenance, for sleep, and he can’t believe he’s allowed himself to ignore it for so long.

Or: Harry is having a rough time. Louis is the kind stranger who makes him smile again.

I think I’m falling (I’m falling for you) (6.8k)

Louis is a disaster gay on a skateboard. Harry is a beautiful, quirky stranger on a bicycle. Their first encounter really makes a splash.

Bloom (just for you) (495)

“Do you ever think about boys?”

The words fall from Louis’ lips casually, but they’re fragile like a gossamer thread, a single silken strand from a spider’s web of labyrinthine thoughts. They’re the product of literal months of careful introspection, of soul-searching and agonizing and over-thinking. They’re words that he’s never dared to utter aloud, a mirror of his own swirling inner-turmoil of thoughts. Thoughts he previously held tightly to his chest, locked away in his heart along with all his other feelings regarding his best friend.

*Or the arrival of spring brings a new beginning for Harry and Louis.

dopamine (7.8k)

Louis honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these types of situations.

Well, actually, that’s a lie. He’s doing this because he needs the money, and because he’s curious. And, okay, maybe because he might be a little bit lonely too. He has always had what his mother affectionately calls an “adventurous spirit.” Couple that with being a (tragically single) broke grad student and voila! here he is scrawling his signature on a release form provided by the university’s sociology department. Essentially, he is agreeing to snog a stranger on camera for the sake of science.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right? All he has to do is lock lips with a (hopefully) fit bloke, collect his money, and be on his way. Easy peasy. Little does he know, fate has other plans for him in the form of one adorably quirky art student who goes by the name of Harry Styles.

How Would You Feel (If I Told You I Loved You) (81k)

An AU inspired by the music video for Ed Sheeran's song Perfect featuring two idiots who are too thick to see that their friendship is anything but platonic, lots of pining, too many terms of endearment to count, a wedding, slow dancing, a couple of steamy hot tub moments, karaoke, snow, a healthy dose of cuddling, love confessions, and Harry and Louis being quite generous to each other.

*Or the one where Harry has been in love with his best friend for four years, and New Year's Eve at his family's holiday home in Switzerland is perfect for finally telling Louis how he feels.

Breathe Me (13k)

The story of what happens when Harry finds a stranger sleeping inside the car his late grandfather left him.

“Louis?” Harry queries softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Why are you living in my car?”

Louis sighs, and this time it’s laced with a mixture of sadness and exhaustion, the sound of it tugging at Harry’s heartstrings. “Long story,” he says finally with a weak smile.

“Will you tell me?” Harry prods gently, his demeanor akin to that of someone approaching a wild animal with their arms outstretched in a gesture of submission. “You don’t have to, like—I mean…it’s just, I’m a pretty good listener, and you seem like maybe you could use a friend?”

“What gave me away?” Louis jokes dryly.

*Or the one where Harry has a broken heart, Louis has a broken home, and all it takes is one night together for them to fall in love.

You got that something, I got me an appetite (5.9k)

After years of being forced to hide their relationship, Harry and Louis decide to come out with a bang.

Shape of You (11k)

“Seriously?” Surely, Harry must be joking. Louis arches a skeptical brow and snaps the waistband of Harry’s joggers playfully. “What exactly do you have down there, Styles? I know you’ve got four nipples, d’ya have a couple extra bollocks as well or summat?”

“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

Please Be Naked (17k)

Louis starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.

“So,” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”

“Yup,” Louis squeaks.

“You okay?”

No!

“Yup,” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.

This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. (Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there.)

*Or the one where Louis agrees to help out Zayn with one of his art projects and ends up getting much more than he bargained for.

Hey I Heard You Were A Wild One (If I Took You Home It’d Be A Homerun) (12k)

"Are you out?” Louis huffs a long suffering sigh as he studies Harry from the other side of the bar, the neon from the beer signs making his eyes glow an unnatural shade of blue, and causing Harry to question - not for the first time tonight - if he is real or just some fever dream-esque fantasy conjured up by Harry’s alcohol addled brain.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” Harry laughs incredulously.

Louis is resolute in his posture as he continues to observe Harry, the slight arch of a brow his only acknowledgement of Harry’s question. That’s fine, Harry decides, it was mostly rhetorical anyway.

“A gay cowboy who rides for a living, can you imagine all the Brokeback Mountain jokes I’d have to endure on a daily basis? I don’t really fancy being compared to Jake Gyllenhaal.”

A hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of Louis’ pursed lips. “Now you’re the one who must be joking, because you are so clearly Heath Ledger in that scenario.”

*Or Harry came to the bar to forget. Louis gives him a night to remember.

Your Love Is My Turning Page When Only The Sweetest Words Remain (8.4k)

“Crying already, Styles?” Louis chides him teasingly, unable to contain the smile that’s breaking across his face.

“So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?” Harry sniffs indignantly.

Louis makes a show of pretending to consider this, steepling his fingers in front of his chest and giving Harry a contemplative once-over.

“Marry you.” He decides, smirking at Harry.

“Guess you won’t be able to call me Styles much longer then.” Harry counters, biting down on his own barely-contained grin.

“Guess not.” Louis agrees happily.

Say You Won’t Let Go (5.7k)

Harry hates flying. Louis is the kind stranger who helps him when he gets sick in the airport restroom. The rest, as they say, is history.

Back To You (5.8k)

"Hello?" His voice came out all high and breathy like an anxious school girl, and he cringed internally at how wrecked he sounded already.

"Lou?"

Harry's voice was the same as ever, deeper than the sea and somehow both gravelly and smooth as silk. Harry was full of infuriating little contradictions like that. It drove Louis crazy. He had spent a good portion of his life questioning if Harry Styles was actually even human; on paper he just didn't make sense. He was an enigma, an anomaly, the exception to every rule.

*After dropping his new single, "Back To You" Louis gets a text from Harry inquiring about the true inspiration for the song.

#writer appreciation week #1dsource #hljournal #fics #author rec

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bbugyu · 4 years

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in your dreams + lee seokmin

your lifetime best friend visits you in a less than pg dream.

wc.7413 | fluff, mentions of sex, potty mouths across the board, hs/friends to lovers au, fem reader

i finally am posting a fic about one of my ults haha! this is also a recycled/reworked fic from my old blog so if you've read something similar to this before no you haven't <3

Mornings were never your strong suit. You always hit snooze as many times as possible, rushed to get your uniform on and fix your hair, then ran out the door with a piece of toast. You knew you’d feel less tired if you just woke up at a decent time, had a proper meal, and got ready like a real human being, but staying in bed felt so much better for those few luxurious moments. There was no stopping your bed bug habits, especially after being accepted into university. Suddenly, getting to school on time was the last thing on your mind when you were swimming under your covers.

You always knew you would make it when you caught up to Seokmin. He lived a block up from you, and he always turned up for class exactly three minutes early. If you saw him, you knew you’d be okay.

Today, he was much further ahead of you than he normally was. So, you sprinted past his house, earbuds in and chewing on your breakfast that you hadn't even managed to toast, hoping you would see his familiar form when you turned the corner a couple blocks down.

Sure enough, as you skidded around the corner, you spotted him at the end of the street. You let out a groan, already winded, before shoving the rest of your bread in your mouth and running towards him. You flew past him and pulled out the earbuds when you were a few yards ahead, bent over with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. He laughed as he caught up to you.

“You’re later than usual.”

You wiped your nose on the back of your hand. “Really? I hadn't noticed.” You fell into stride next to him, still breathing heavily while you straightened out your skirt. “I swear if we're running in gym today, I’m going to fake a migraine.”

He watched you pull your ponytail tighter. “Did you run the entire way?”

When you nodded, he got a plastic water bottle out of his bag and handed it to you. “Oh, god, you’re the best,” you said, drinking from it. “Water tastes so good.”

Seokmin laughed as you chugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That means you're dehydrated.”

“I’ll buy you another bottle when we get there,” you said after you drained the one he gave you. “Thanks.”

“You should’ve tried for the track team this year,” he said teasingly, nudging you with his elbow.

You laughed. “I’d only do well if you’re at the finish line, yelling at me that I’ll be late.”

“I would have done it, but you better break some school records if I’m doing that much work.”

You liked Seokmin. Your mothers were good friends, forcing the two of you to play together while they talked when you were barely potty trained. Lucky for them, you got along well, and lucky for you, you ended up in the same class all the way through elementary school. You had been worried when you entered high school that he would grow out of having “girl friends,” as many of the guys did, but he never stopped hanging out with you. He continued to walk home with you, at least as far as his house. He still helped you with your homework, even when he was just as confused about the mathematics problem. He kept the promise he made you when you were little tots.

“Seokminnie,” you had said, tiny hands covered in markings from your colored pens. “Can we be best friends forever?”

He had given you the biggest smile his six-year-old face could manage. “Yes! Best friends forever.”

You walked into the classroom and put the bottle of water you had just purchased on Seokmin’s desk, letting out a “thanks again” as you passed. He saluted you as you walked to your seat, then went back to his conversation with his friends. You could hear them teasing him as you put your bag down.

As the two of you grew older, you gained more friends of the same sex. It didn’t stop you from calling Seokmin your best friend, but it seemed natural to have a different group to hang out with at school, one you could go to the bathroom and fawn over boys with. However, whenever the two of you interracted within eyeshot of any of them, they seemed to insinuate that the two of you should be something more than friends.

“You know who’s handsome?” Haseul said once. “Seokmin.”

Sooyoung giggled. “Watch out, somebody already has dibs.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop it. We’ve been friends since diapers.”

“How romantic,” Haseul swooned. “Childhood friends turned lovers!”

You threw your pencil at her, and she laughed as she deflected it. "Guys and girls can be friends, you know!"

From what you could tell, Seokmin’s friends did the same to him, teasing him endlessly about his girlfriend, even though you had spent plenty of time with them by proxy.

“You look like hell,” Sooyoung said as you sat down in your usual seat behind hers. “Late again?”

You laughed, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “Thanks. Yeah, I had to run to catch up today.”

“Thank god for your oppa, huh?”

“Ugh, don’t call him that,” you said, covering a yawn.

“Ah,” Haseul exhaled to your right, straightening out her notebook. “Is ‘jagiya’ better, then?”

You hit her shoulder and she yelped, making Sooyoung laugh. They started talking about something else and you stole a peek over to Seokmin’s desk. He had his face buried in a hand, being prodded by his friends. His eyes opened and he noticed you. You sneakily pointed a finger gun under your chin and he stifled a laugh, which set off his friends again when they realized he was looking in your direction. You would have to apologize later for triggering his torment

When classes ended, you found Seokmin waiting for you by the school gate. Sooyoung cooed at the two of you from a distance, making you roll your eyes as you straightened the straps of your bookbag.

“They’re relentless,” you said.

Seokmin groaned, throwing his head back in agreement. “Has it been especially bad recently for you, too?”

“It's springtime,” you laughed. “They want to watch a pretty romance blossom with the flowers.”

“Someone should tell them to stop watching so many dramas.”

You ended up at his house, reading a webcomic on your phone while he played a computer game. Afternoons were often spent like this. You were sprawled out on his bed, mindlessly crunching on a bag of chips, when he suddenly let out an expletive and dropped the controller on his desk.

You looked up, then read out the red text that was splattered across the dark screen. “You died.”

He spun in his chair. “Yeah.” He pulled the chair towards you and stole the bag, shoving a handful of Fritos into his mouth. “Whatcha reading?”

You looked at your phone. “Slice of life romance. It’s cute, I like the art style.”

He nodded, chewing slowly. He was obviously thinking of something else, even as he was staring at you, but you didn’t blame him for having other things on his mind.

When you looked up at him again, he suddenly dropped the bag by your side and turned back to his computer, scooting his chair as he did. You tucked your hand into the bag of chips and went back to your comic. You ended up going home for dinner, messaging Seokmin when you made it back to your house.

You found yourself in his room again that night, this time the details warped. You spent so much time with Seokmin, it wasn't uncommon for him to appear in your dreams, but this context was entirely new for you.

He crowded you, filling your personal space, his fingertips tracing lace patterns on your bare shoulders. A hand found its way to the back of your neck, tipping your head to let him place delicate kisses on your lips that left you breathless. Every time his mouth found yours, a shock of electricity ran down your spine, the tingling settling in your core. He caressed you, held you, laid you out on his bed. Your understanding of the situation was blurred by the dreamscape, but you liked it. In this reality, you liked him. And you liked what he was doing to you. You even liked it when his thumbs grazed over the peaks of your bare breasts, when he sucked bruises onto your neck, when you felt the pressure of his erection filling you.

He muttered your name into your lips. “I love you.

Your legs were wrapped around him, hands desperately pulling him close. You gasped. “God, I love you, too.”

You woke up suddenly, sitting up in bed with your heart pounding. It took you a moment to recognize the sound of your alarm clock, and you hurriedly shut it off. You were sweating. You kicked off your covers and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, staring down at your hands.

Was that a wet dream?

You felt your already hot face turn red. Not only was it a wet dream, but it was about Seokmin. An involuntary shiver ran up your body, remembering the torturous detail that your imagination had held you hostage for.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. The feeling of his hands ghosted up your torso, and you stomped your feet slightly in an attempt to ward off the strange sensation.

It was just a dream, you told yourself. But... it had felt so real.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you got ready for school. You spent a long time staring at yourself in the mirror, fixing and re-fixing your half up-do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much time to get ready. The time felt empty, somehow. Your mother saw that you were awake and excitedly fried an egg to put over rice for you. The metal spoon lingered in your mouth as you stared into space.

“I love you,” he had said. His voice had been low, gravelly, a tone you had never heard before. You shuddered.

“Are you okay?”

You snapped to attention, looking up to your mother. “What?”

She pouted. “You look feverish.”

“Ah,” you felt your cheek. It was hot. “I’m fine.”

“Be careful of hay fever,” she said, clearing her own place at the table. “Your father has bad seasonal allergies, too.”

As you left the house, you realized that you would have to walk right past Seokmin’s. Panic stricken, you wondered if you should start walking faster to make it past and avoid him, or if he had already left. You checked the time on your phone, realizing that he would probably be leaving soon.

Your legs moved as fast as they could without running. If you made it past his house before he left, you wouldn’t have to face him until you had more time to process. But, as you were about to pass, the front door opened.

“Ah!” Seokmin waved to you. “You’re early.”

Externally, you smiled and waved. Internally, you collapsed into yourself.

“Your hair looks nice,” he said, patting your head. “Did you actually wake up properly today?”

You nodded, trying not to wince at his touch. “For the first time ever, I didn’t want to go back to sleep when my alarm went off.”

“Wow,” he laughed as you walked beside him. “I’m impressed.”

You had never seen Seokmin as anything but a brother. Your best friend. Someone you had been close with since childhood. Now, you looked over to him and couldn’t help but see his naked body hovering over yours. Your heart raced as you stared at your feet, all while he told you about the complex lore of the game he had been playing the day before.

It was unbearable.

Your friends would be no help. You knew better than to confide in them - they had already been so convinced that the two of you should hook up, if you said anything that hinted at some subconscious attraction you might have towards Seokmin, they would never let you live it down. You spent the entire day avoiding him, thinking that if you allowed yourself time to forget the dream, things would go back to normal. But when you saw him with his friends by the school gate at the end of the day, your stomach flipped in your gut and you felt your pulse quicken. You thought about walking past them, blending in with Sooyoung and Haseul, hoping he would be distracted with their conversation, but you had no such luck.

“Hey!” Seokmin waved you over. “The guys wanted to get some food, you in?”

“Uh,” you looked over to your friends for help. They stared back at you.

Mingyu spoke up. “You two are welcome, too, obviously.”

“Sure,” Sooyoung said. “It’s Friday, why not.”

Haseul nodded, and you were dragged along with them to a small restaurant a few blocks down. This had happened a few times before, where the two of your friend groups went out together. The six of you crowded around a table, everyone hungrily picking at the side dishes while you waited for the stew to boil in the center of the table. After getting a consensus from the table, Mingyu got the attention of a waitress.

“Unnie! Could we please get some ramen noodles, also?”

“And more kimchi,” Seokmin muttered, shoving a scoop of rice in his mouth.

“And more kimchi,” Mingyu repeated. “Thank you!”

Sooyoung laughed. “You guys sure like to eat well.”

“We’re growing boys,” Seokmin said.

The dried noodles got added to the stew, and you took it upon yourself to break it up as it boiled, mixing it in with the army stew. Mingyu was the first to steal some of the cooked noodles, slurping them down and grabbing bits of meat from the stew as he chewed.

“Oh, it tastes really good,” he said, leaning back. “It never tastes this good when it’s just us guys.”

Haseul laughed as she took a spoonful of the broth. “It can sense your fear.”

“Hey,” Seokmin nudged you with his elbow, sticking a folded bit of meat and kimchi in your face with his chopsticks. “Eat up.”

This was a normal gesture, you tried to remind yourself. This was something he did all the time when you went out to eat. You always distracted yourself so much with cooking the food, you hardly ate anything, and Seokmin always made sure you enjoyed the meal with everyone else. But the action felt strangely intimate today, and your leg bobbed nervously as you chewed. It reminded you of the electricity you had felt when he touched you.

In your dream, you reminded yourself. When he touched you in your dream.

“The three of us will split the bill,” Minghao said when all the food had all been devoured.

“Eh?” Sooyoung looked at you, then back to the boy across from her. “We can pay for ourselves.”

“No no no,” Seokmin insisted. “We’ve already discussed it. We invited you three out, so we’re paying.”

“Wow, what gentlemen,” Haseul giggled. “Thanks for the food!”

You and Sooyoung repeated the thanks, the boys saying that it was no big deal. The three pooled their money to cover check, then met you girls outside the restaurant.

“I should study for that quiz on Monday,” you said when the conversation started to die down.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Mingyu groaned. “I don’t want to think about school all weekend.”

Haseul laughed. “Good luck failing, then.”

You threw up a peace sign, backing up towards the road that led to your neighborhood. “Thanks for the food, guys!”

“Seokmin-ah,” Minghao nodded to him. “You coming over?”

Seokmin shook his head and started to follow you. “I should get help studying while I can. Tomorrow?”

You waved to your friends as they headed in the direction of their own homes. Seokmin fell into step beside you as you trotted down the steep alley that was a shortcut towards your street. His hands stuffed in his pockets, as usual. You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your book bag, examining your feet as you walked.

“I love you,” he had said. For some reason, the dreamy sound of his voice wouldn’t get out of your head. The words rattled in your skull; you could almost feel a headache coming on in response to it. The two of you walked in near-silence the entire way.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asked as you approached his house.

You distracted your fingers with the hem of your shirt. “Ah, maybe not today.”

“Eh?” He punched your shoulder. “Why not? I wanna play Mario Kart.”

You laughed shortly, hoping he wasn’t noticing your blush. “I was serious about studying, Seokmin.”

“Well, come on, then.” He tugged on your arm, pulling you towards the front door. “We can study and then play Mario Kart.”

Unable to find a worthy excuse, you let him pull you through the front door. You slipped off your shoes, greeting his mom and waving to his sister, both of whom were practically family for you, but the interaction felt stilted in your current state. The two of you escaped to Seokmin’s room, where he dropped his bag on the floor and pulled a folding table out of his closet. Trying to not act as awkward as you felt, you busied yourself by messaging your mother on kakao to let her know you would be at the Lee household for a while. You thought about sitting on his bed, but you were hit with a sudden flashback of being pushed down onto it. You picked at your nails instead.

Seokmin quickly set up the short table in the middle of the room, then situated himself at one of the sides, pulling his bag closer to get his school things out. You hesitated before you sat across from him, back to his bed, tucking your legs under you and flattening your skirt.

“You’re acting weird,” he said suddenly.

You looked at him, wide eyed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been all day, but don’t know how to describe it,” he said, leaning back on his hands and furrowing his brow at you. “It’s weird. You’re acting… timid.”

You tried to laugh it off, but it sounded unconvincing even to yourself. “You’re crazy.”

He laughed at you. “You know it, too. You’re acting weird but you’re trying so hard not to.”

You groaned, putting your forehead on the table. “Leave me alone.”

“So... are you gonna tell me why?”

You adjusted onto your chin, eyeing him. “I said leave me alone.”

“C’mon, aren’t we supposed to be best friends?” He reached over and poked your forehead. “Tell me what’s up.”

You exhaled while you got up onto your elbows, rubbing your face. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it with you.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows furrowed again. “Is it really that serious? Are you okay?”

You laughed, despite how incredibly nervous you felt. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. It’s stupid, really.”

“Now I’m worried,” he whined.

“How about that quiz, huh?” You said, pulling notebooks out of your book bag. He whined at you again, but complied and retrieved his own study supplies. He allowed an hour to pass before he brought it up again.

“Do you have a crush on someone?”

Your pencil clattered on the table when you fumbled with it. “What? No! What the hell?”

He squinted at you. “Is it Minghao?”

“Min, seriously,” you rubbed your face again. “I don’t have a crush.”

“You’re lying.”

You laughed incredulously. “I’m not!”

He studied you a moment. “You have a tell,” he said finally. “I’ve always known when you’re lying.”

You were sure the color washed from your face. Always? Surely that couldn’t be true. Besides, you really weren’t lying this time. “Seokmin. I don’t have a crush.”

“Liar,” he said after a beat. “You were being weird when we went out for food. Minghao?”

“No,” you said, suddenly nervous.

He squinted at you. “Mingyu?”

You rolled your eyes. This was insane. “No.”

He paused. “Haseul?”

You laughed. “You think I’m gay, now?”

“Well, who else?” He asked, exasperated. “Me?”

“No way.”

He stared at you a moment, clockwork moving behind his eyes. “Oh my God.”

You frowned. “What?”

“You have a crush on me.”

“You’re crazy.”

He pointed at you. “You chewed on the inside of your cheek. That’s your tell. You did it just now.”

You stared at him, your tongue running to the side of your mouth. He was right. The inside of your cheek was raw from the nervous habit. You stuttered. “Min, I swear, it’s not a crush, but I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“How long?” He asked, slouched over the table, watching you closely.

“Listen to what I’m saying, idiot.” You pointed at your lips for good measure as you enunciated each syllable. “It’s. Not. A. Crush.”

He exhaled and leaned back on his hands. “Then what is it? I’m not gonna stop until you tell me.”

You whined, dropping your head onto the table. “God, this is a nightmare.”

He poked at your head. “Tell me.” You whined in response. “Tell me!”

“Fine!” You said, sitting up and slapping away his hand. “I’ll tell you. But you better not tell another soul, Seokmin. Swear on your life.”

He crossed his heart. “I swear.”

You sighed deeply, leaning back, avoiding eye contact. “I had a dream last night.”

Seokmin watched you. “Wow, I got chills.”

You threw your pencil at him. “Shut up, I’m getting to it.” You exhaled again. “I had a dream about you last night, and it was… confusing.”

“Confusing how?”

You looked over at him. “Confusing… like, I don't know how I feel about it. It was… charged. Sexually.”

He stared at you blankly for a second. “Wait-”

You groaned and collapsed onto the floor, already regretting saying anything. “This is a nightmare.”

“Wait wait wait,” Seokmin’s hand hit the table. “You had-”

“This sucks!”

“-A sex dream-”

“Shut up!”

“About me?”

You groaned. “This is why I didn't want to talk about this.”

He picked up your pencil off the floor, laughing. “Wet dreams happen. Why do you feel so weird about it?”

“What,” you said, straightening out your shirt as you sat up. “You wouldn’t feel weird if you had a sex dream about me?”

“Well, I mean,” he paused, fiddling with the pencil. "I have. Had them about you, I mean."

You stared at him, cheeks burning. “What?”

He laughed, looking down. “I’m a guy,” he said, nervously folding the corner of his notebook. “And you’re pretty. I can’t control my subconscious.”

“Pretty,” you repeated.

“Yeah, I mean, obviously.” He shrugged. “That’s not a secret, or anything.”

“Right.” You nodded slowly, “So you’ve dreamt about… us.”

“Not on purpose,” he said, fussing with his notebook still. “But, yeah.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said sheepishly. “We spend a lot of time together.”

He nodded, pointedly tapping the table with your pencil’s eraser. “Yeah, that probably has a lot to do with it. Was this the first time for you?”

“With you, yeah.” You pouted. "I know I've had them before, but I never really remember them like this."

Seokmin chuckled. “Well, I’m flattered.”

There was a pause between you two, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you expected it to be.

“So,” you swallowed. “Are yours just fucking, or…”

“More than that?”

You nodded, staring at your hands.

“It depends,” he laughed nervously. “Sometimes they freak me out a little bit, actually.”

You chewed on your lip. “This one freaked me out.”

He shifted, obviously wanting to ask about it, but not knowing how. You took the hint.

“It was really… intimate,” you said quietly. “Like,” you paused, studying the wall. You put your hands up, palms together. “Like, looking-deep-in-your-eyes intimate.”

He stared at you. You cleared your throat nervously.

“You said you loved me.”

He exhaled. “Damn.”

“And I said it back.”

“Like…” he trailed off, gesturing.

You nodded. “During.”

“Wow,” he flipped the pencil around his thumb. “That’s a lot more than just fucking.”

“No kidding.”

“So,” he started after a long pause, then cleared his throat. “That’s why you've been acting weird?”

You groaned. “Yeah, it’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He stifled a laugh. “It was that good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you giggled, despite how embarrassed his implication made you feel. “I don't know. Every time I see you now, I see that dream in my head. It's awkward.”

“Does that mean…” he paused, tapping your pencil again, his eyes wandering around his room. “You’re imagining me naked?”

“Ugh!” Your hands covered your face. “Well, now I am, you asshole!”

He laughed. “For what it’s worth, I have to pretend that I’m not imagining you naked way more often than I’d like to admit.”

Your fingers slid down your face, uncovering your eyes so you could stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean,” he dropped the pencil on the table. “Like, yesterday. When you were reading that comic on your phone?”

You nodded slowly, flattening your skirt against your thighs.

“It reminded me of this dream I had once, where you showed me a hentai and wanted to act it out with me.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”

He laughed. “Listen, I don’t come up with this stuff on purpose.”

“How long ago was that dream?”

Seokmin thought a moment. “A few weeks ago?”

You eyed him. “How often do these dreams happen?”

He shifted. “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, but I’ll let it go,” you said, sitting back and leaning against his bed.

He laughed. “Thanks.”

You watched him a moment as he stared at his fingers, fiddling with your pencil again. You suddenly remembered the way his lips had felt against yours. You had never really paid much attention to them before, but when you examined them now, you realized how full they were. They formed a sweet heart, you thought, and you wondered if they felt as velvety as they looked. You spent too long staring at his lips, you had to stop yourself from biting your own.

Seokmin exhaled and held out your pencil. “Back to studying, I guess?”

You blinked. “Right. Yeah.”

His brow raised while you took the pencil from him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

He laughed. “You were looking at me really weird.”

You examined your pencil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously.” He cocked his head at you, a smile teasing his lips.

“Stop that,” you muttered, pouting. “I don’t like that I’m noticing you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you scoffed for a second, unable to believe yourself. “Like not my brother. Or best friend. I’ve been noticing you. As a man. All day. It’s weird and I can’t stop it.”

“As a man?”

You looked up. Seokmin’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was still gentle. You felt your heart quicken. You screwed your eyes shut. “I’m going to do something. I want you to be totally honest about it after it happens, okay?”

“O-okay?”

Before you could change your mind, you steadied yourself as you leaned over the table, planting your lips on his.

And you stopped. And he stopped. And you felt electricity run down your spine.

Then time started again, and you pulled away slightly, your eyes opening to find him staring at you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Was that-”

His hand reached up to you, pulling you back into him with a gentle grip on the back of your neck. This time, his lips moved against yours. You immediately settled into him, goosebumps forming on your arms when you felt his tongue brush against yours. When the pace slowed, he let out a hot breath, and you rested your forehead against his.

He laughed. “Holy shit.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Yeah.”

“I,” he laughed again. “I’m not gonna lie to you. I have a raging boner.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking down, immediately noticing the tent in his pants. You sputtered out a laugh. “Oh my god, Min. You’re such a romantic.”

“Listen!” His hand moved from your nape to your jaw. “That was… A lot. I didn’t realize that kissing you would be like that.”

You smiled gently. You’d never seen his eyes this close before. “Me neither.”

“Like,” he paused. “Is it always like that? Or are we just… insanely compatible?”

You giggled. “I’ve never had a kiss that felt that good.”

“One second,” he said, adjusting himself quickly and standing. He stepped around the table and put out a hand to help you to your feet. “Can we continue?”

You giggled as you stood, straightening your skirt with your free hand. “Yeah, I think I want to.”

He placed his hands on your waist hesitantly. The touch was new. Different, but not unpleasant. You settled your arms on his shoulders, and he dipped down to kiss you again. It was exploratory, almost nervous, but you both settled into a rhythm quickly. You found your hand burying itself in the hair above his nape, and he pulled your hips into him. You gasped slightly, surprised by the unfamiliar feeling of his clothed hard on against your pelvis.

“Too much?” He asked breathlessly, pulling away.

You shook your head and pulled him back onto your lips, immediately deepening the kiss. After a few beats, your teeth tugged on his lip and he groaned, fingers gripping you desperately. His heavy eyelids opened, and you stared at him, trying to catch your breath. “We should… stop.”

He nodded. “Probably, yeah.”

“This is…” You watched his lips. “This is your first time kissing a girl, right?”

He nodded.

“And it would be, you know…” Your fingers were still buried in his hair. “The first time doing that for both of us.”

He nodded.

“So…” You bit your lip. “We should stop.”

He nodded.

But neither of you really wanted to stop. Despite all logic pointing towards it, you really had a hard time justifying it to yourself when you were here, with him, and everything felt so good.

So you didn’t stop. Not yet.

You slowed the pace, both of you aware that you were no longer participating in a sprint, but rather a marathon. He was gentle with you, his hands following the curve of your waist as he discovered your weak points - the small of your back, your lower lip, and the skin between your ear and jaw. You couldn't stop thinking about how you just couldn't believe he had never kissed a girl before, considering how easily he was making you melt in his hands.

And when a curious hand found its way to your ass, playfully pulling up your skirt to grip you better, you nearly fell apart. You desperately wanted to do something, despite knowing that you probably shouldn't, and you fought with the notion for a long moment, all while Seokmin made a very compelling case for you to strip down right that second.

You needed to think logically. Seokmin was your very best friend and you didn’t want to ruin that, but you were a bit beyond that at this point. You had only admitted attraction, not even feelings. You weren’t even close to dating, you thought. You always wanted your first time to be with someone you had been seeing for a while, someone you really cared for and really cared for you. Someone special. But the more you considered it, you realized Seokmin might be the perfect candidate; he was the person you were closest to, and you shared an emotional intimacy that you couldn’t even imagine with anyone else, so even that argument seemed null.

It didn’t take much for you to work up the courage. He pulled your hips into him again, and you let your hands drift downward, finding their way to the (impressive) bulge in the front of his pants. He made a noise - a mix between a yelp and a groan - before grabbing your shoulders and pushing you away slightly.

Your already rosy pink cheeks went bright red. “Bad?”

“I-” Seokmin stuttered. “I thought-”

“I just,” you paused, looking down. You tried not to stare at his crotch. “We don’t have to do anything major but… I want to touch you.”

He let out a strangled laugh. “What happened to ‘we should stop’?”

You bit at your lip, pushing him lightly until he sat on the edge of the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Do you want to stop?”

He stared at you, seeming to consider everything for the first time, suddenly awake to what you were suggesting. “Not really, no.”

“Then,” you looked down. “Let me touch you.”

The next day, you were on his bed. You were laying next to each other, listening to music, when you suddenly propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Can I help you?”

You laughed. “Yes.”

He smiled, placing a hand on your nape to pull you down to him, resulting in a long, slow kiss. That same electricity ran down your spine.

“Uh oh.”

He laughed lightly. “Why uh oh?”

You examined his face for a moment. “I think I might actually have a crush on you.”

“I told you you were lying yesterday.”

You laughed and hit him. The music stopped suddenly, his phone ringing from where it was plugged in across the room. Seokmin groaned.

“Can you get that?”

“You’re closer than me, asshole.”

He groaned again, rolling off his bed and onto the floor, crawling his way to his desk. He pulled it off its cord and answered. “Hey.”

You watched as he stood, making a noise of recognition. His hand hit his forehead.

“Ah, I forgot. Do you wanna come over here instead? I don’t wanna leave the house.”

As Seokmin walked back towards the bed, you could hear Minghao’s annoyed voice through the phone. “-been waiting all afternoon. Mingyu’s here already, you know? And you’re gonna make us come to you?”

“Ah, well,” he said, flopping back onto the bed and putting his phone on speaker. “Y/N’s over here, so. Are you gonna make her walk all the way to your house? Are you even allowed to have girls over?”

You laughed at Minghao’s stutter as he repeated your name. “Hey, am I on speaker? That’s rude, you know.”

“Hi, Hao,” you said, giggling. “You and Mingyu should come over, the four of us can play Mario Kart!”

“See!” Seokmin said. “Listen to your elders, Myungho.”

“We're the same age, don't call yourself my elder.”

“See you soon?”

He sighed into the phone. You stifled a snort. “Fine, we’ll come to you. Be there in twenty.”

You laughed at the dial tone that signified Minghao hung up without letting Seokmin say bye. He had a look of betrayal on his face before he dropped the phone and rolled onto his side, facing you. You raised a brow. He contorted his face to wink at you dramatically, making you laugh, and him follow suit.

“Yah,” he rolled over again, rubbing his face. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

You poked his side and he swatted at your hand. “What do you mean?”

“To be totally honest?” Seokmin inspected the ceiling. “I’ve liked you for a really long time.”

Your mouth opened involuntarily. “Really?”

He nodded. “I woke up this morning thinking for sure that I dreamt yesterday. I’ve thought about confessing to you so many times, but you never seemed interested in me that way. I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward.”

“Well,” you said, picking at your nails. “I’m interested in you now, so…”

Seokmin laughed, tucking a hand under his head. “Good thing, I was getting worried I wouldn’t be able to keep it in much longer. You keep getting prettier every day.”

You coasted on that high, laying on your stomach and smiling at your phone, for the time it took your friends to make their way to you. You heard the door opening downstairs and Seokmin’s mother’s voice as she told them to go ahead up.

Seokmin rolled off the bed. “I should move. They might suspect something if we’re laying in bed together.”

You nodded at him, looking back at your phone and mindlessly playing a puzzle game as he settled, seated on the floor with his back against the bed. There was an unspoken agreement that the two of you should keep whatever relationship developed a secret, at least for now. The two of you didn’t even know what this was yet, it’d be stupid to let others in on it, too.

When Minghao and Mingyu practically kicked open Seokmin’s bedroom door, you jumped at the noise and stared at them wide eyed.

“Yah!” Seokmin yelled. “Be careful! The hell is wrong with you?”

Minghao looked like he was trying to be intimidating, pursing his lips to stop himself laughing while he tried to be serious. “You lazy assholes made us walk all the way over here.”

You looked from him to Mingyu, who looked back at you, his face reading like a hostage. You burst into laughter, rolling onto your side.

“Don’t laugh!” Minghao pointed at you, a smile breaking through his facade. “I’m serious. This jerk agreed to come over to my house, yet we somehow ended up here! Because you’re here! Why?”

Seokmin was staring at him, mouth open and squinting. “In my defense, I forgot.”

“I wanted to hang out,” you said sweetly, sitting up and leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s always choosing you over us,” Minghao pouted, crossing his arms as Mingyu snuck around him to sit on the bed next to you. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, first of all,” Seokmin said. “She’s way cooler than both of you.”

You laughed and said “thanks,” while both Mingyu and Minghao whined in unison.

“Secondly, I’ve known her for literally a decade longer than I’ve known you guys.”

“Whatever,” Minghao said, pulling his phone out of his jeans’ pocket and sitting on the floor. “You’re weirdly confident today. Did you finally get laid?”

You almost snapped your neck with how quickly you looked up at him. Mingyu snorted, laughing at the idea, but both you and Seokmin were frozen, staring at Minghao, who’s forehead creased when he saw the looks on both of your faces. Realization dawned on him and Mingyu almost simultaneously.

“Holy fuck, you two-”

“I have to pee,” Seokmin announced loudly, standing so suddenly that he toppled slightly before walking past Minghao and exiting the room. You stared after him incredulously, ears bright red, silently cursing the scaredy-cat bitch for abandoning you.

Mingyu cleared his throat. “So.”

“Nope,” you said. “This isn’t happening. We’re not talking about this.”

Minghao pointed at you. “So it’s true!”

You shook your head and rubbed your face. “That idiot really just walked out of the room.”

Mingyu laughed his big loud laugh, making you chuckle into your hands as you continued to cover your face.

“I’m so pissed. I can’t believe he actually just walked out.”

“I can’t believe you fucked him,” Minghao said.

Your hands fell off your face. “I didn’t! We didn’t fuck!”

He pointed at the door. “Then what the hell was that?”

“That was an idiot.”

He pouted a moment. “That’s not fair. I can’t argue with that.”

When the door opened again, you threw a pillow at Seokmin. “You jerk!”

He caught the pillow and stared at you. “What?”

The other boys stifled laughter as you fumed. “You abandoned me, you asshole!”

“I had to pee!”

“Nice cover, dick.” You crossed your arms. “I’m mad at you.”

“Don’t be mad at me!” He pointed at Minghao. “Be mad at him!”

Mingyu whined. “Mommy and Daddy are fighting...”

You smacked him in the arm with the back of your hand, and he jumped, rubbing the spot you hit.

Minghao laughed and leaned back on his hands. “You’re a real dumbass.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, hugging the pillow while he sat down across the room. “I didn’t know what to do.”

You scoffed. “Clearly.”

“So... are you guys done talking about it?”

You threw your phone at him, and he deflected it with the pillow.

“Hey! That could have actually hurt me!”

“Yet it didn’t,” you said, trying to grab Mingyu’s phone out of his hand to throw that, too, but he held it out of your reach and pushed you away. “We didn’t talk about anything, and we’re not gonna talk about anything.” You pointed a look at Minghao. “Right?”

“Right,” he said, sighing. “Whatever. I’ll corner Seokmin later.”

You continued to fume from your curled position on the bed, pouting and glaring at Seokmin. He stared back at you, eyes wide and lips slightly curved downwards. He mouthed an I’m sorry, but you just kept glaring.

“So,” Mingyu said, scratching his head. “Mario Kart?”

Hours passed, and you slowly let out your anger one shell at a time, Seokmin crying out and begging you to stop every time you hit him. At the end of a Grand Prix, you announced that you needed to pee.

“Have fun,” you said to Seokmin, then stood up to go to the restroom. He stared at you, wishing for mercy, as you closed the bedroom door. You giggled to yourself as you walked down the stairs.

You purposefully took your time, using the restroom downstairs, washing your hands extra well, looking at photos in the hall, peeking into the kitchen and chatting with Seokmin’s mother. When you finally returned, Seokmin looked shellshocked and both Mingyu and Minghao looked up at you.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Minghao nodded. “He’s easier to crack than you are.”

That was the moment where you thought, oh, this may have been a mistake. You gulped, looking at Seokmin. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said, but it came out as almost a whisper. He cleared his throat. “Nothing, I swear.”

You looked at Mingyu, and he shook his head with a frown to tell you he was lying. “Seokmin, what the fuck?”

“You abandoned me!”

“That doesn’t mean you can tell them everything!”

“I didn’t tell them everything…”

“Oh,” Minghao said, “So you guys did do more than that.”

You stared at him. “Seokmin, what the fuck!”

“I’m sorry!” He put his hands together and getting on his knees to plead with you. “I’m sorry! I’m weak! You know this!”

“You’re a fucking traitor,” you said, shaking your head as you sat down. He practically put his head in your lap while he bowed to you, muttering apologies. “I’m never sucking your dick again.”

His head shot up while both of the other boys burst into laughter. Seokmin let out a weak “really?”, which made them laugh even harder.

You almost snorted at the look on his face, shoving on his shoulder while the boys were distracted laughing. “Stop digging your own grave, idiot. What did you even tell them?”

He sat up, lower lip sticking out as he stared at you, clearly searching for a sign that you weren’t absolutely pissed at him anymore. "Just that you, y'know," he muttered, aimlessly gesturing. "Taught me how to make you feel good."

"You got pretty good, too," you giggled. You leaned over, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“Wait, no, come back,” he said, pulling at you with a hand on the back of your neck. You laughed while Mingyu made a gagging noise behind you.

“Ugh, get a room.”

“This is my room,” Seokmin snapped back, looking over your shoulder. He kissed you again, then finally let you sit back. “Hey,” he started. You looked up at him, pursing your lips. “Wanna be my girlfriend?”

You giggled.

“You two aren’t even together?” Minghao whined.

“Seriously, you have to do this right now?” Mingyu groaned.

“I’d like that,” you said.

“Me too,” Seokmin grinned.

#hhahahahah #ive been debating whether i would post this for like two weeks its fine im fine #lee seokmin #dokyeom #dk #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom fluff #she do be pretty suggestive tho #anyways the idea of dating seokmin in high school hurts me a lot #sunshine #i wrote dis

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prettyoddfever · 4 years

Text

Ryan Ross & Adam Duritz

“I look up to people like Adam Duritz and Stephan Jenkins, people who write stories. I think that’s a lot more fascinating.” – Ryan Ross to The Daily Telegraph in 2006.

“We’d love to work with Adam Duritz from Counting Crows.” – Brendon to Entertainment Weekly in 2006

“Adam Duritz from the Counting Crows is a great songwriter. I don’t have the illusion I can compare with [him] ever.” – Ryan Ross to a Dutch magazine in 2008

One of the first covers Panic! at the Disco incorporated into their early 2006 shows was Round Here by the Counting Crows. Spencer, Brendon, & Ryan all talked about how much they loved Adam Duritz and were inspired in various ways by his work, but Ryan was the one who formed a connection with him through songwriting.

In spring 2007 Adam Duritz (the lead singer & songwriter for Counting Crows) started a webzine to talk about his favorite books, movies, music, etc. In the very first issue/post he got on a tangent that involved a whole lot of Panic! at the Disco appreciation... and it was amazing because he actually understood them. So many other bands & journalists at the time were hating on P!ATD or not really getting the band even if their comments were positive. Here are some highlights from one of Adam’s posts:

...I don’t know why I didn’t mention this before but, if you’re not a fanatic Panic! At The Disco fan, you could also just go buy yourself a regular old copy of A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out. It really is a very good album, I love it. My friend Omar raved about the band to me so I went out and bought the album. Sometimes I have no patience with “styles” of music. I get really annoyed by “scenes”.

Music is much more involved with our lifestyle choices than movies or books or other art forms. We define ourselves by the music we listen to. We feel cool (and I include myself in this as much as anyone else) because we listen to music that other cool people, or simply people we respect, listen to. The problem with that is that it makes music “scenes” very untrustworthy and often filled with bands who write songs at about the same quality level as a good functional pile of shit, They generally happen because one brilliant band comes along and does something amazing (see The Police-Outlandos D’Amour (stay tuned next issue for my thoughts on all The Police digipak remastered re-issues), Miles Davis-Bitches Brew, Nirvana-Nevermind) and then a million other bands come along and produce rack after rack of record store space filled with what is basically expensive disc-shaped fertilizer and, in some cases, a huge up swell in the sale of flannel shirts and Doc Martens (see 90% of the rest of reggae rock, jazz fusion, and grunge). I love great songwriters. I love great records. I just don’t trust “scenes”.

... I bought the album with a lot of skepticism. But... I dig it. You will never be able to able to convince me that Ryan Ross doesn’t mean the words he writes deeply and, in Brendon Urie, he’s found a perfect voice to express those feelings. On top of that, the band can flat out play. A lot of bands today can barely manage to properly adjust their guitar straps, but I’ve seen Panic! play live and they either have the most creative background tapes and are the best lip synchers in history or they are simply a very very good live band ( I was a little turned off by the stage show when it first started. It’s a bit of a circus, after all, but all I realized after a few songs was that if “Moulin Rouge” had starred and been directed by Panic! At The Disco, I probably would have liked the movie and I wouldn’t have walked out in the middle like I did. Plus, I just love the lines: “We’re just a wet dream for the webzines, Make us hit make us hip make a scene, Or shrug us off your shoulders, Don’t approve a single word that we wrote.” It both recognizes the existence AND makes fun of the whole idea of their “scene” while also honestly admitting to the desperate desire all of us have to “make it”. It’s also simultaneously a plea for recognition AND a giant “fuck you!” to the idea of the need for critic’s validation AT THE SAME TIME! That’s quite a bit of writing and they make it sound like the joyous celebration of their situation that it damn well should be. And then the next time the chorus comes around, it’s proceeded by this middle 8: “Just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of a) indifference or b) disinterest in what the critics say.” Which is really fucking funny, especially when that sunny chorus breaks through the clouds of that middle 8 forecast about 7 seconds later. Of course, none of this even takes into account the fact that this is all taking place in a song entitled “London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines”. Now that is fucking funny. Between that one and other songs like “Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off”, “The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage”, “I Write Sins Not Tragedies”, and “There’s a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven’t Thought of It Yet”, this may be the best and funniest collection of song titles ever. I’ve had people tell me that annoys them. I can’t see why. I ask them and they inevitably say something stupid like “I don’t know, it’s just a little too clever for me” which makes me really want to look at them and say “Yes. It certainly is.”

Way too many reviews totally failed to recognize any of the brilliant layers of inspiration & insight in P!ATD’s songs. So the fact that one of Ryan’s idols totally got what he was doing was really fun to see. Adam even said in a separate post that he considered Ryan a peer. And then later on Adam thanked Ryan in the liner notes for the Counting Crows album that was released on the same day as Pretty. Odd. by saying “and Ryan Ross for...well, just a lot."

update: it makes more sense to stick this info here than in another post: Adam went backstage to the band’s dressing room after a NYC show in 2006 to say hi :)

THE MAIN POST

#ryan #spring07 #extra

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idontfindyouthatinteresting · 4 years

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The Last of Us Part 2: Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

- Confucius

HUGE SPOILERS - DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT HAVING FINISHED THE LAST OF US PART 2

This game was not for me. Let me be clear by what that means, I played The Last of Us Part 1 only this year, after hearing a lot about it being amazing and realizing I actually got the game for free with my PS4 many years ago and it’s sat in a drawer since. I don’t like horror games, I particularly don’t do zombies. I hit a couple of walls but I finished the game, and I was happy when I did. I felt and was very vocal about how the power of the performances and the narrative got me through that game and left me feeling good about something that was so contrary to everything I enjoy in video games and media generally.

The Last Of Us Part 2 pushed this to it’s absolute limit, came within a hairs width of breaking. When it was done I was overjoyed it was done, that I didn’t have to tear, hack and beat anyone else.

If this game had an Uncharted style quote tag line, it would without doubt be “before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves” in playing this game, I felt like I was burying Ellie, the painful dichotomy of having to physically push her forward yourself whilst the entire time wanting her to stop, every time she hit another mark, every time the rabbit hole got deeper and the people around her suffered, every time her ruthless pursuit of revenge dumped her in another Scrambler hell hole. The violence in this game is suffocating and I would not be critical of anyone who needed to put it aside and take a breath.

As much as the violence is one of the centre tenets of the game, those who enjoy that sort of game, probably won’t be into this one. It is constantly self critical, the effect of what the characters are going through is beautifully translated in the performances and counterpointed when you’re asked to view the last of humanity at war with one another for nothing beyond tribal angst or trek through the museum, zoo or aquarium, taking care of JJ, listening to Dina talk about her faith, in one of the games small moments of peace. Something Naughty Dog does well consistently.

The score, hell the score, from tender solo guitars to that heart pounding combat suite, was perfect. Tension was something I expected from this game based on the first and it delivered.

Gameplay was great, I’ve seen some reviews state that it’s what was offered in the first game, still happy with it. It’s not what you got in the first game it’s more complex, satisfying and flexible.

I love rooting and looting for things, I love the satisfaction of having a full kit and all the materials to craft more. There were minor changes to the system whereby your characters have to read prepper type guides to learn their skills and if you don’t find them you don’t get the skills. As I literally enter a level and follow the wall left until I’ve covered every surface I didn’t have a problem with missing too much (I don’t know how I missed coins, cards and journals my first play through, where the hell are they?!) but if you’re not thorough you’re going to struggle.

There were also new types of equipment and weapons, but also a whole new character. At the start, playing as Abby through the sort of tutorial run, and then seeing her kill Joel, I was not looking forward to playing as her. Concerned about the drive I’d have to play as that character, dreading it, really. You learn to care and love Abby very quickly, and I know I’m not alone in this. In truth, her and Ellie are the same, and if you can manage sympathy for Ellie in her fits of revenge, then you cannot be critical of Abby and what she did. The ultimate comment on the violence, that it’s circular, cannot be without consequence, on your heart and soul, on those around you. Dig two graves.

Abby is an amazing character to be. She packs a punch, her fight against the Rat King my god. A nod and a wink to Daryl Dixon in parts. She sacrifices everything she has to protect Yara and Lev, testaments to how the violence must stop, she’s becoming a protector of that and I’d love to see how that develops in a potential third game.

The most jarring part of Abby’s story is the point where you’re hunting Ellie, hunting yourself. This is an odd sensation, something that I found in Detroit: Become Human when you’re having a foot pursuit with, yourself. When you’re playing both sides, do you want to fight hard enough? how are you supposed to win? The thing, is you’re not. You lose either way. Another point of self criticism in this game.

Joel is a constant specter in this game. In the first game he provides stability, consistency, the moments that he’s unwell and failing are some of the most terrifying, begging for him back. Joel will know what to do. The truth of it is, is that Joel is just swept up in the story, completing his dead friends final wish, a delivery job.

The one act that he has that is his own, the one thing he does to drive the narrative beyond simply survive is take Ellie out of that hospital and lie to her, dooming humanity in the process. The difficulty is of course, I’d have done the same.

The importance of that moment and that decision cannot be understated, that hospital door returns and returns like a fever dream in Part 2 for both Ellie and Abby it was their defining moments for much of the game and truly the narrative is how they overcome what happened in that room. For Abby it houses guilt and Ellie it houses lies.

Still in part 2, despite being dead Joel is stability, familiarity in a strange world, warmth and home. The non-linear elements provide a breath of fresh air when it’s needed. He’s such a likable character, papa bear who just can’t let go and it’s endearing.

I hadn’t seen the spoilers, I don’t know if people saw his death scene before the game came out, but I hadn’t and when I finally did it was truly horrendous. Ellie’s pleads for him to get up I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget them, that if he’d just get up everything would suddenly be fine just proves his role as a source of stability. Just like Ellie the whole game I was waiting for Joel to turn up, to miraculously and inexplicably be ok and sort everything out. The hopelessness of this is very real and powerful.

Sometimes, we watch films, listen to music, experience art that is upsetting, and makes us reflect, this game is that. There are no winners, I didn’t beat this game, this game beat me, relentlessly. But this experience is important, and thought provoking, and powerful. Effortlessly beautiful, all about the details.

This is not what anyone expected from a sequel to The Last of Us, but it’s what it needed to be. It stands alone in this genre but should stand proud.

Play this game, but take care of yourself as you do it. It asks a lot of you.

#The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #Naughty Dog #I had some feels #I had a lot of feels #mine #review #gaming

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 13, 2021: Kwaidan (Review)

How do you review an anthology?

Either I go section by section, or I review it all in one shot. Since it’s all one director and writer, the latter seems appealing, so I probably will go with that...but maybe not for all five sections. Hmm...an idea occurs. I think I’ve got it. But, before I go into that, what did I think of Kwaidan on first recall?

Also, real talk, the above GIF is now one of my favorites, and I WILL be using it in the future.

Kwaidan is an understates masterpiece, and one of the many reasons I’m glad I’m doing this misguided film project of mine. It’s genuinely great, and also a wonderful ghost story in its own right. I don’t get scared easily, and I can’t say that this film particularly frightened me, but I can say that it was an unnerving movie in many instances. As for which segment was my favorite...oof, genuinely a tough question to answer. I love how In A Cup of Tea ends, and The Woman of the Snow is a gorgeous fever dream of a sequence. The Black Hair is EASILY my least favorite, but it’s still a good starting point.

But as for my favorite...

And in truth, I’m not completely sure I can articulate why. It’s close between this and The Woman of the Snow. Tea was a little too short for my tastes (even though I think it had the best ending), and Hair was...well, just fine, like I intonated above. Snow has some amazing visuals, and a great story, which may have been ruined for my by Tales from the Darkside: The Movie, but still was wonderful. But Hoichi...Hoichi was magnificent.

I love Hoichi himself, the opening kabuki theater is amazing in sound and appearance, and the reappearances of the visuals is stunning throughout. All I gotta say is, I loved every single part of this one. And yeah, it’s arguably the only one with a mostly happy ending, all things considered. But I may get more into that in the Review.

Yeah, speaking of that, how are we doing this? Well, some segments will be broken up by...segment, while others won’t be. Depends, you’ll see. So, let’s get to it! Below are listed the four segments, and their recaps. Click on them to read them in full!

The Black Hair (黒髪, Kurokami)

The Woman of the Snow (雪女, Yukionna)

Hoichi the Earless (耳無し芳一の話, Miminashi Hōichi no Hanashi)

In A Cup of Tea (茶碗の中, Chawan no Naka)

Without further ado, then...

Review

youtube

Cast and Acting: 9/10

Breaking this one up! Not a single shared cast member amongst any of the shorts, so this one is broken up by necessity.

Hair (8/10): Sorry to say, but this is arguably the weakest cast in the group. Granted, it’s not that many people, but it’s still not the strongest of these stories. The lead here is Rentarō Mikuni, and he’s fine. My only problem is that it feels like he’s acting. Which, to be fair, is very kabuki theatre. You know, over-exaggerated movements and emotions, all that jazz. But, without the physical trappings of kabuki, it just feels like, well...overacting. Again, not the worst, but not the best. Michiyo Aratama and Misako Watanabe are good as well, but they’re parts aren’t hefty enough for me to properly judge. Well, actually, Aratama is quite good, real talk.

Snow (10/10): Amazing. Keiko Kishi is absolutely enrapturing as the Yuki-onna, and Tatsuya Nakadai ain’t bad as Minokichi either, lemme say. Again, limited cast for this one, but they definitely manage to excel. Seriously, they’re great.

Hoichi (10/10): This one has some of the best, though, both in terms of the kabuki scene, and in the regular scenes. The range of performances here is interesting, considering that you have the overdramatic stylings of kabuki on when end, the gentle nature of Katsuo Nakamura’s Hoichi on the other end, and the actually entertaining comedy relief monks in the middle. Yeah, I never mentioned it, but there are comedy relief monks in this segment, and they’re funny! This one is, all-around, a really strong cast, and the best in the film for sure.

Tea (8/10): This one is strong too, don’t get me wrong. Nakamura Kan'emon is a strong lead, but he’s not...perfect. Nor is Nokobu Nakaya as the ghost of Shibuku Heinai. Even the three samurai are a bit stiff. But in truth, it doesn’t interfere with the short, even a little bit. The 8 out of 10 is how I feel about it, but I genuinely don’t have a problem with it.

Average score’s a 9/10, which feels totally accurate to me. Moving on!

Plot and Writing: 10/10

I was going to break this one up, since they all have different plots. But, first of all, they all have the same writers. And second of all, they’re all...basically perfect? Like, real talk, I love all of these fuckin’ stories, dear Lord. And it’s Japanese folklore, which is basically always great. But OK, let’s break it down. These stories were originally collected for publishing by Lafcadio Hearn, a Greek-Irish man who lived in the United States for a decade, wrote about New Orleans, then moved to Japan and married a Japanese woman, eventually becoming a citizen and spending the rest of his life there as Koizumi Yakumo. Yeah. Dude has a STORY. He collected these stories in multiple books, and these stories were adapted by Yoko Mizuki, a female screenwriter, and one of the most accomplished female Japanese screenwriters ever, with 34 screen credits under her name. And this movie was relatively late in her career, too. Neat, all around. And yeah, these stories are WELL adapted, with the last one as a standout for me. In any case, this one is basically perfect.

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

Yeah, this one’s perfect, too. I mean, come on, the fuckin’ SHOTS in this movie are fantastic. Director was Masaki Kobayashi, and the cinematographer was Shigeru Wakatsuki, and...yeah, it’s great. I don’t even have to say anything here, just watch the trailer for the movie. If there’s any specific standouts, though, they’d be The Woman in the Snow for Cinematography, and Hoichi the Earless for Direction. Amazing, and those two are the best examples.

Production and Art Design: 9/10

Um...yeah. Of course this one’s high, not even a question. LOOK AT THIS GODDAMN MOVIE. No more needed here, it’s a 10/10, it’s gorgeous all around. Well...OK, maybe it isn’t perfect. And that all basically falls at the feet of The Black Hair. I meant it when I said that this was the weakest short. Because...yeah, it is. From the initial old-age make-up, to the weirdly plain kimonos worn by an extremely wealthy woman who should be able to afford more ornately patterned kimonos, this one was...weaker, atmospherically. Still great, mind you...but weaker. So, OK, maybe not perfect, but still good.

Music and Editing: 8/10

And the music by Toru Takemitsu is definitely memorable as well...but is the editing perfect? Eh. Not really. Sorry, Hisashi Sagara, I know you’re working with 1965 technology here, but it’s not...perfect. There was some work needed throughout each short, to be honest, but it was still all pretty solid. Music really holds up this category, though.

OK, Japanese spirits, you’ve got a 92%! Don’t haunt me.

I really want to go to Japan, by the way. Like, I’ve always been interested, and I never would’ve turned down a trip there, but I REALLY want to go to Japan one day. I’d love to visit a temple or a shrine (respectfully, of course), I’d love to experience the people and the atmosphere...I just think it’d be very cool, to be honest with you. And movies like this have only heightened that desire.

Man, I loved this one! What comes next in the pattern? Right, surrealist films written by well-known and influential directors! Cool, I’m pumped! Let’s jump right into it! What could go wrong?

March 14, 2021: The Holy Mountain (1973)

#Kwaidan #masaki kobayashi #怪談 #anthology film #film review #movie review #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usermichi #mygifs #my gifs

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birdwonder · 5 years

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Sorry, I’m impulsive. Just saw the head cannons for the reader who likes to paint for Josuke and they introduce them to Rohan. Could I please get a scenario for that. I just thought it’d be hilarious, and hopefully Josuke and/or the reader don’t die.

|| oho ! i love it when my previous posts spur more requests, especially when i love requests to no end ! also ur impulse is fantastic !

request/fic based off

https://birdwonder.tumblr.com/post/189601011865/headcanon-the-joestars-on-how-they-would-react-to

JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA | ARTIST

“C’mon, c’mon, babe! You gotta meet him,” your boyfriend, Josuke, urged on, ushering you towards a large and expensive looking house, putting your own home and all your possessions combined to shame in terms of price.

Cringing slightly, you weren’t exactly prepared to meet anyone new, especially under these circumstances. See, Josuke was a supportive boyfriend, and even best friend if you had to gloat, so when he discovered your talent in art, he instantly knew that he wanted to encourage you and show off your skills to world.

Much to your disgruntlement, this meant that he wanted you to meet a ‘friend’ of his, one that he had never mentioned before, which was bizarre seeing as Josuke was an open book and spoke a lot about his times with Okuyasu, Koichi and even Jotaro. You had to wonder why this friend of his was never mentioned before... Perhaps a conversation just never led up to it?

“Josuke, I love you but I don’t think this is necessary,” you calmly told him, soft eyes glancing at him as he momentarily stuttered over your small declaration and reminder of love. For the sake of his ego and ‘cool guy’ persona, he played it off by coughing and ran a hand over his pompadour, chuckling.

“Love you too baby, but you gotta trust me. This would make me super happy.” Josuke then wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as he gave you a cute and desperate look, faking a pout alongside it, “don’t you want to see me happy?”

You frowned at that. Of course you did! It was just that you had never met this person before, and here you were with your sketchbook involuntarily in Josuke’s free hand, about to show off your art that you were so self conscious about despite receiving many compliments for it.

The taller male rested his cheek on the top of your head momentarily. “Plus, if you do this for me, I’ll buy you your favourite snack from the store!” Ah, that drove the bargain in.

You gave a nod that meant ‘deal’ and Josuke gave one back, removing both his arm and cheek from being in contact from you so that he could approach the door of the grand house and knock on it three times.

Gulping, you hadn’t expected the door to open so soon to reveal a fairly tall and slim figure, one that had a curious headband on and noticeable green hair brushed to the side. His gaze on you was hard and emotionless, probably because you were a total stranger, yet once he caught glimpse of Josuke, he started to look annoyed.

“What do you want?” The man questioned, opening his door from being somewhat ajar to widening it completely so that he was fully revealed. What an odd fashion sense...

Josuke, with a much brighter grin than you usually saw him wear, waved a hand before placing it on your shoulder, greeting the stranger with so much fever you could have been fooled the two of them were closer than brothers, if not for the man’s strangely angry aura, “Rohan sensei! We were just in the neighbourhood and I was thinking that it was about time you met my girlfriend, [F/N]!”

Rohan, at least you assume that was his name, suddenly raised his brows in surprise and sharply turned to look down at you, giving you a once over examine before smiling in peculiar, mischievous way. “I see, well a pleasure to meet you, Miss [F/N], what a shame it took us so long to be introduced.”

“Oh, hello to you too Mr Rohan! It’s nice to meet you too,” you responded in a structured manner, not knowing what to say outside of basic niceties.

Luckily, Josuke saved you in the most painful way by flipping open your sketchbook, a smug look on his face. “She’s an artist like you, y’know? But her art is ten times better, I mean can you do this?” He boasted on your behalf, causing you to gasp with embarrassment.

“Josuke, you can’t just say that-!”

The older artist raised a brow at your work. Bending down, he analysed the page with a hand on his chin and even lifted it the inspect another one or too. You could only cover your face to hide yourself from the shame as he did so, afraid of any insults that may come your way.

“See, aren’t they the best? Like a real pro-” Josuke was then cut off by Rohan straightening himself again and talking over the teen, looking down at you with a much softer smile than he had ever seen.

“Yes, they are fantastic indeed!” The praise had you peeking from in-between your fingers and up at the green haired male, who took both of your hands into his own, catching you off guard. “If I wasn’t an independent artist, I would have you work for me as an editor or something of the sort. We could spend hours together over our passions!”

This made Josuke splutter and reel back, the sketch book he once gripped with care now almost slipping out of his grasp. Just what the hell was happening? Was Rohan Kishibe actually being nice, to his girlfriend of all people?

What made things worse was that your naïvity made it so you didn’t notice the advancements that your boyfriend saw as flirting, so you only giggled and smiled politely with gratefulness within you.

“You’re so sweet Rohan, sir! I would love to see your art at some point,” you beamed, “if that’s alright with you.”

In reply, Rohan continued to give you a warm smile and brought your hands closer to his chest, making you take a step forward towards him; Josuke almost choking at the sight, a wonder that he wasn’t only seeing red. “Of course, cher. Why don’t you come by one day and we can show each other our works properly, one on one?”

The usually out going and laidback stand user was going crazy. You might not have been able to see it, but Rohan every now and then would side glance towards him with such a malevolent glint in his eyes and a cocky upturn of the mouth that he wanted to use Crazy Diamond to send him the damn moon. Or the hospital.

The man was even using some weird french words! Since when was such an anti-social guy so smooth? Josuke was even starting to think that his usual terms of endearment for you were paling in comparison. Did you even like being called ‘baby’ or ‘his girl?’ It was probably way too cheesy and not at all sophisticated for a great gal like you...

‘Damn it, you know that isn’t true! She loves those names, or else she wouldn’t get so worked up over them!’ Josuke yelled at himself mentally, shaking his head side to side furiously before slapping his cheeks with the palm of his hands, trying to clear his mind. Luckily, though also sadly, his silent motivation went unnoticed by the chattering artists.

“This was lovely, Rohan sensei, but I think it’d be best if Josuke and I left now, we’ve already taken so much of your time.” Your statement made your boyfriend quickly shake his head in agreement, so fast that a few strands of hair probably came loose from his excessively combed pompadour.

The manga artist continued to glance over at his mortal enemy, as he proclaimed dramatically in his head, with a horribly amused look and spoke to you with a sickening sweet tone, “oh it’s no matter, it led me to meet such a lovely young lady. Please, visit again some time, dear.”

Your hands were still gently held in his and they were slowly being raised to his lips, Rohan’s head bobbing down to plant a kiss upon your knuckles. You were none the wiser to the gesture you were about to receive, however time seemed to move in a painfully slow way for Josuke. Oh heeeell no.

Before Rohan’s lips could even brush your hands, the said man was shoved to the side harshly by Josuke nudging him away in a seemingly casual manner, your sketchbook suddenly handed to you so that you could be picked dup bridal style.

“[F/N] is right, we’ve overstayed our welcome! Thanks Rohan sensei, you were a real one,” Josuke loudly proclaimed, sending a glare to the fallen man who was rubbing his back and returning the salty expression back, “if you don’t mind, we’re going to go on a date now, so hope you don’t feel too lonely over here.”

While you were covering your face with your sketchbook, due to the embarrassment of being held like a newly wed wife in public, the two men continued to give each other menacing looks that had clear messages such as, ‘don’t mess with me’ or ‘she’s mine, back off.’

“Don’t mention it...” Rohan sourly mumbled, Josuke now walking away from the porch and the house.

Josuke, still brimming with some anger, bit the inside of his cheek to help calm himself down, which was a challenge not even a stand could help him. The hell was Rohan’s problem? He knew that guy was too sketchy for his own good, pun not intended.

“Sweetie,” you piped up from his arms, sketchbook now hugged to your chest and doe-like eyes looking up, “if you were jealous, you know that nothing like me and Rohan would ever happen, right?”

Your assurance was surprising. Had you noticed your senior’s ploy to infuriate Josuke all along? You clever thing. With your words and gentle gaze, the anger he felt was quickly sweeping away with the sigh he blew out.

“I love you Josuke, and only you!”

Aaah, you were too cute! The sudden declaration made his eyes widen slightly, seeing as you were both in public and affectionate things seemed to be too bold for you in front of others, granted though the streets were moderately empty.

“Heh, I love you too babe, sorry about all of that,” he apologised, dipping down slightly to place a peck on your head head. It seemed that was a little too much still, so you pushed his head away with a squeak, making him chuckle.

“Ok, ok! Now put me down, this is too much.” As per your request, you were set down carefully, thankful that you weren’t in such a helpless position anymore. That didn’t stop Josuke from wrapping his arm around your shoulders though.

With you pulled close to his side, Josuke was calm once more and he could easily tell Rohan to ‘suck it’ as he knew that no matter what, you’d be his girl and only his, and that he’d spoil and praise you to no end because that’s what you deserved.

The two of you exchanged a smile, laughing between yourselves at nothing. “You know, I think you mentioned a date back there. I know it was just a excuse but if you want maybe we could...” You trailed off, hoping that your boyfriend would take the obvious hint.

Of course, he did, and he had no hesitation in fulfilling your wish.

“Say no more, how does ice cream and cake sound?”

“Just perfect,” you confirmed, sketchbook in one hand and Josuke’s now in another.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #rohan kishibe #jjba x reader #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #request

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kingjasnah · 4 years

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Is there the full list of brandersons favourite games reposted somewhere?

i dont think so? or not that ive seen. u can literally just sign up for the newsletter on his website but screw it ill just post them for u. it sure was a TRIP scrolling past these to get to the interlude though. undertale is on this list.....im shakign at the thought that adolin was based off ff10 tidus but i cant get it out of my head now

#10: Katamari Damaci

I love things that make me look at the world in a new way. Katamari did this in spades. It is an imaginative, bizarre vision with unique gameplay. It is like nothing else in the world and I love it for all its strangeness and occasional lack of gameplay polish.

I was transfixed the first time I played it, and have looked forward to it being remade and rereleased on multiple different consoles. I love the cute—and somehow creepy at the same time—storyline. It feels like a fever dream more than a game sometimes, and is probably the closest I’ll ever get to understanding what it’s like to do drugs.

#9: Undertale

This is an oddball on this list because I think it’s the only game that is not a franchise from a major studio—but is instead an indie game, which I believe was originally funded on Kickstarter.I loved how this felt like a novel as much as a game. It was one person’s vision; a single story told really well, with a huge amount of personality. The humor was just my kind of wonderful/terrible, and I was instantly enamored with the characters.That probably would have been enough, but it is a nice deconstruction of video games as a medium—and has not one, but multiple innovative gameplay mechanics. Together, the package left me enamored. This is a work of genius that I feel everyone should at least try, even if it ends up not being for them.

#8: Fallout: New Vegas

I have played all of the core Fallout games, and I was one of the (it seems few) who was really excited when it moved from turn-based tactics to first-person shooter. While Fallout 3 was good, it didn’t have the charm of the first two.New Vegas delivered on everything I was hoping to see. The charm was back, the writing sharp, the quests imaginative. The gameplay was engaging and branched in a variety of directions, the gunplay was solid, and the atmosphere immersive. I of course love the first two games in the series—but New Vegas combines everything I like in gaming into one package. (As a note, I own the Outer Worlds, and am looking forward to digging into it. Consider this item on the list a recommendation of other Obsidian games—like Knights of the Old Republic Two—regardless of genre, as I’ve found them universally to be superior to their contemporaries.)

#7 Super Mario World

When I was eleven, I flew (alone, which was very exciting to me) from Nebraska to visit my uncle Devon in Salt Lake City. Before I left, my father gave me $200 and told me to pay for my own meals while on the trip—but of course, my uncle didn’t allow this. At the end of the trip, I tried to give him the money, which he wouldn’t take.I mentioned my dad would take the money back when I got home, but that was okay. Well, my uncle would have none of that, and drove me to the local mall and made me spend it on a Nintendo Entertainment System. (This uncle, you might guess, is an awesome human being.)Since that day of first plugging it in and experiencing Mario for the first time, I was hooked. This is the only platformer on the list, as I don’t love those. But one makes an exception for Mario. There’s just so much polish, so much elegance to the control schemes, that even a guy who prefers an FPS or an RPG like me has to admit these are great games. I picked World as my favorite as it’s the one I’ve gone back to and played the most.

#7: The Curse of Monkey Island (Monkey Island 3)

I kind of miss the golden age of adventure gaming, and I don’t know that anyone ever got it as right as they did with this game. It is the pinnacle of the genre, in my opinion—no offense to Grim Fandango fans.This game came out right before gaming’s awkward teenage phase where everything moved to 3-d polygons. For a while after, games looked pretty bad, though they could do more because of the swap. But if you want to go see what life was like before that change, play Monkey Island 3. Composed of beautiful art pieces that look like cells from Disney movies, with streamlined controls (the genre had come a long way from “Get yon torch”) and fantastic voice acting, this game still plays really well.This is one of the few games I’ve been able to get my non-gamer wife to play through with me, and it worked really well as a co-op game with the two of us trying to talk through problems. It’s a lovingly crafted time capsule of a previous era of gaming, and if you missed it, it’s really worth trying all these years later. (The first and second games hold up surprisingly well too, as a note, particularly with the redone art that came out a decade or so ago.)Also, again, this one has my kind of humor.

#6: Breath of the Wild

I never thought a Zelda game would unseat A Link to the Past as my favorite Zelda, but Breath of the Wild managed it. It combined the magic of classic gameplay with modern design aesthetic, and I loved this game.There’s not a lot to say about it that others haven’t said before, but I particularly liked how it took the elements of the previous games in the series (giving you specific tools to beat specific challenges) and let you have them all at once. I like how the dungeons became little mini puzzles to beat, instead of (sometimes seemingly endless) slogs to get through. I liked the exploration, the fluidity of the controls, and the use of a non-linear narrative in flashbacks. It’s worth buying a Switch just to play this one and Mario—but in case you want, you can also play Dark Souls on Switch... (That’s foreshadowing.)

#5: Halo 2

Telling stories about Halo Two on stream is what made me think of writing this list.I’m sometimes surprised that this game isn’t talked about as much as I think it should be. Granted, the franchise is very popular—but people tend to love either Reach or games 1 or 3 more than two. Two, however, is the only one I ever wanted to replay—and I’ve done so three or four times at this point. (It’s also the only one I ever beat on Legendary.)It’s made me think on why I love this one, while so many others seem to just consider it one of many in a strong—but in many ways unexceptional—series of games. I think part of this is because I focus primarily on the single-player aspects of a game (which is why there aren’t any MMOs on this list.) Others prefer Halo games with more balanced/polished multiplayer. But I like to game by myself, and don’t really look for a multiplayer experience. (Though this is changing as I game with my sons more and more.)I really like good writing—which I suppose you’d expect. But in games, I specifically prefer writing that enhances the style of game I’m playing. Just dumping a bunch of story on me isn’t enough; it has to be suited to the gameplay and the feel of the game. In that context, I’ve rarely encountered writing as good as Halo 2. From the opening—with the intercutting and juxtaposition of the two narratives—to the quotes barked out by the marines, the writing in this game is great. It stands out starkly against other Halo games, to the point that I wonder what the difference is.Yes, Halo Two is a bombastic hero fantasy about a super soldier stomping aliens. But it has subtle, yet powerful worldbuilding sprinkled all through it—and the music...it does things with the story that I envy. It’s kind of cheating that games and films get to have powerful scores to help with mood.The guns in Two feel so much better than Halo One, and the vehicles drive far better. The only complaint I have is that it’s only half a story—as in, Halo 2 and 3 seem like they were one game broken in two pieces. And while 3 is good (and Reach does something different, which I approve of in general) neither did it for me the way Two did, and continues to do.

#3: Final Fantasy X

You probably knew Final Fantasy was coming. People often ask if the way these games handle magic was an influence upon me. All I can say is that I’ve played them since the first one, and so they’re bound to have had an influence.On one hand, these games are really strange. I mean, I don’t think we gamers stop quite often enough to note how downright bizarre this series gets. Final Fantasy doesn’t always make the most sense—but the games are always ambitious.Ten is my favorite for a couple of reasons. I felt like the worldbuilding was among the strongest, and I really connected with the characters. That’s strange, because this is one of the FF games without an angst-filled teen as the protagonist. Instead, it has a kind of stable happy-go-lucky jock as the protagonist.But that’s what I needed, right then. A game that didn’t give me the same old protagonist, but instead gave me someone new and showed me I could bond to them just as well. Ten was the first with full voice acting, and that jump added a lot for me. It has my favorite music of the series, and all together is what I consider the perfect final fantasy game. (Though admittedly, I find it more and more difficult to get into turn-based battle mechanics as I grow older.)

#2: Bloodborne

Those who follow my streams, or who read other interviews I’ve done, probably expected this series to be at or near the top. The question wasn’t whether Souls would be here, but which one to pick as my favorite.I went with Bloodborne, though it could have been any of them. (Even Dark Souls 2—which I really like, despite its reputation in the fandom.) I’ve been following FromSoftware’s games since the King’s Field games, and Demon’s Souls was a huge triumph—with the director Hidetaka Miyazaki deserving much of the praise for its design, and Dark Souls (which is really just a more polished version of Demon’s Souls).As I am a fan of cosmic horror, Bloodborne is probably my favorite overall. It really hit the mix of cosmic and gothic horror perfectly. It forced me to change up my gameplay from the other Souls games, and I loved the beautiful visuals.I am a fan of hard games—but I like hard games that are what I consider “fair.” (For example, I don’t love those impossible fan-made Mario levels, or many of the super-crazy “bullet hell”-style games.) Dark Souls is a different kind of hard. Difficult like a stern instructor, expecting you to learn—but giving you the tools to do so. It presents a challenge, rather than being hard just to be hard.If I have a problem with Final Fantasy, it’s that the games sometimes feel like the gameplay is an afterthought to telling the story. But in the Souls games, story and gameplay are intermixed in a way I’d never seen done before. You have to construct the story like an archeologist, using dialogue and lore from descriptions of in-game objects. I find this fascinating; the series tells stories in a way a book never could. I’m always glad when a game series can show off the specific strengths of the medium.In fact, this series would be #1 except for the little fact that I have way too much time on Steam logged playing...

#1: Civilization VI

This series had to take #1 by sheer weight of gameplay time. I discovered the first on a friend’s computer in the dorms my freshman year—and I can still remember the feeling of the birds chirping outside, realizing I’d been playing all night and really should get back to my own dorm room.That still happens, and has happened, with every game in the series. I have a lot of thoughts on this series, many of them granular and too specific for this list. (Like, it’s obvious AI technology isn’t up to the task of playing a game this complex—so could we instead get a roguelike set of modifiers, game modes, etc. to liven up the games, rather than just having a difficulty slider that changes a few simple aspects of the game?)I’ll try not to rant, because I really do love this game series. A lot of people consider IV to be the pinnacle of the series, but after V unstacked units—and VI unstacked cities—there was no way I could ever go back. If for some reason, you’ve never played this grand patriarch of the 4X game genre, it’s about starting with a single stone-age settler who can found a city—then playing through eras of a civilization, growing your empire, to try to eventually get offworld with a space program. (Or, if you prefer, conquering the world.)It’s a load of fun in the way I like to have fun, and I feel like the series has only gotten better over the years. My hat is off to the developers, who keep reinventing the series, rather than making the exact same game over and over.Now, about that request for difficulty modes...

there are runner ups but for the sake of anyone whos on mobile and cant get past a read more (first of all omg im SO sorry) ill refrain. anyway he thought WHAT loz game was the best before botw?

#mix between HARDCORE judgement and like. yea. yea ff10 was pretty good wasnt it #but i dont think its anywhere near the best of them #long post #im read mores dont work imm so fucking sorry this is so long #MOST of these games are good its just so wild its so wild its SO wild #asks #Anonymous

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years

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A few years ago there was this moment where I got a ton of anonymous messages from some far right asshole about the usual shit--Hillary, the corrosive force of immigration, inherently evil ethnic and religious groups, etc. The messages were weird in that most of them seemed to be copied and pasted out of the middle of some article somewhere, but there was never a source mentioned, and there was never enough information for me to get the whole picture even if I really cared about all this "proof" that black and brown people should be kicked out of Sweden or whatever the point was supposed to be. Some of the messages were actually written by the sender, and they all sounded pretty stereotypically crazy: rude, vague, delirious references to conspiracies, pedophilia, brainwashing, etc on the left, or really just orbiting around Clinton. (This is totally tangential, but to this day I'm convinced that all these reactionary nutbags just want to fuck Hillary Clinton, I mean the enduring, overheated obsession with her has extended so far beyond the the sphere of her electoral campaign or any threat of her achieving greater power that there has to be a reason these freaks keep bringing her up, bringing up the fevered vision of a woman dominating them along with the entire country, a compelling reason, perhaps a BIOLOGICAL reason) I'm still embarrassed about this, but I engaged with this person, posting their inane drivel to try to vivisect it, to explain why it was so stupid and ineffectual. I wasn't that worried about giving them a platform, since the messaging was so primitive and hard to understand if you weren't already on his side, but that was exactly my point: When you make yourself sound like an escaped lunatic in a doomsday sandwich board sign, who is supposed to take anything you say seriously? How could it have any effect besides undermining whatever you're trying to support? That effect, and the strengthening of convictions held by lefties like me, who would naturally like to be as opposite of your raving inarticulate ass as possible? And besides all that, my blog had a pretty apolitical appearance at the time, so why was anon assuming I was this passionate Clinton shill? I mean, fuck him and his bigoted garbage, OF COURSE, but I couldn't figure out how he had targeted me personally for this treatment.

The point that I wish I had gotten then was, it didn't matter. It might have been the result of one of those things you hear about from time to time, about how supposedly a bunch of mean jerks from 4chan (or whatever the current iteration is) are going to conduct a "raid" on Tumblr, like they're going to seek and destroy liberal snowflakes and precious cinnamon rolls with their, uh...incredible verbal prowess I guess. Surely the point was just to get me all riled up so someone could say that they pwned me, although I don't know what the reward of this pwning was supposed to be besides the "made you look!" thrill of tricking me into talking to or about them. I'll never understand the perspective of the kind of person who thinks that you "win" something when someone blocks you online, as if blocking isn't just a way of saying "You are literally worthless." It's interesting how that line of troll thinking works, it seems to suggest something like, "Ah, you should have KNOWN that I was nothing but an insignificant piece of shit with nothing to say, but you treated me like I was worth talking to, so therefore I WIN!" I strongly suspect that all of troll culture (I mean, not LEGIT trolls who bait you with patently stupid decoy ideas, but these little garbage people who bait you with their real actual opinions) is predicated on an urge to masochism, that this kind of person is always a spineless perverted weakling who craves insults and punishment, who feels in their very bones that they deserve the worst, who is at all times secretly drooling to slurp on the delicious bootheel of Hillary Clinton, long after her rally balloons have been found deflated and dangling from the network of powerlines crisscrossing the Real America...

But that reminds me of another self-loathing lunatic of my acquaintance, my ex-boyfriend. Yes, really, but I swear to god this is going somewhere. He was an intelligent guy, a lit major who had graduated with honors from a reputable liberal arts school, an editor at a respected arts & culture publishing house who fancied himself a progressive thinker who stood up for the freedoms of others--and who, I slowly found out, used his enthusiasm for Obama and The Daily Show to mask the noxious brew of casual racism and virulent misogyny that made up his fuel for living. When we were dating, I thought that we had problems, and I thought dealing with problems was a normal part of adult relationships; I thought the opposite of constantly struggling for peace, honesty, and respect was "expecting life to be like a fairy tale", which I certainly did not want to be accused of. So I didn't get what was going on when he would choose some arbitrary trigger for an abusive episode, and I would try, and fail, to resolve whatever was bothering him. I bought in to the idea that we were both intelligent people with respect for one another's intelligence, and that it was possible for us to get at the heart of any trouble through calm and rational discussion. He often gave me plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, indicating that there were REASONS that he was angry with me, which led me to believe I could fix everything by clearing up misunderstandings, since I had never conspired to do anything to him but try to love him. (Although sometimes he wouldn't even tell me what I had supposedly done, intoning "You're a clever girl, you'll figure it out" in a sneering Joan Crawfordesque voice--I should have known then that he didn't need or even want a good reason to attack me) But, his debate style, if I can call it that, involved screaming, changing the subject, repeating whatever I said back to me in a "r*tard voice", impugning my character (or that of my family and friends) in ways that had nothing to do with the argument, and other tactics that ensured that his opportunity to hurt and terrorize me lasted for hours or days. I missed the fact that for him, the fight wasn't a resolvable interruption of our relationship, it was the entire point of the relationship.

The most brilliant thing he'd ever done--though I don't want to call it that, since this has more to do with base instincts than brains--was to use my intelligence against me. If I had placed more importance on my own feelings than I did on "being fair" and "making sense" of our conflicts, then I would have escaped before I had to develop this whole behavioral theory that I am delivering to you now. By producing "reasons" for his anger, he made me think there was a debate to be had, and that the person with the superior logic would win out. I was convinced that would be me, since I knew the Truth, and he was just confused by his inner demons (drugs and alcohol, his shitty friends who "made him" do bad things, his supposed trauma from the last relationship he deliberately destroyed, his inferior parents who made him look bad by being "visionless ant people", and whatever other excuses he surfaced whenever it benefited him to play the tragically injured good guy). What I know now is, all abuse is the same, and it doesn't need or want to justify itself. Its only aim is the free reign of violence. It has no interest in truth or justice of even the most deformed variety. Its goal is to give unfiltered vent to all forms of hatred. The fact that it disguises itself with a mask of rationality, made up of straw men, false equivalences, dubiously construed "facts" arranged into artificial patterns, and other distractingly logical-looking tactics, does not mean that what is inside operates on, or is vulnerable to, actual logic. It's all just id monster shit. Do not interact.

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popwasabi · 4 years

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Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

“Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU.

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons.

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

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“Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

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(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y’all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant.

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

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nerdettedreamteam · 5 years

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robstar week 2019: day four

day four! hell yeah!! we’re about halfway done with robstar week! if you’ve been keeping up with my other prompts, @samdraws715 and i chose to collaborate on prompts this year where she drew the artwork above and i wrote a fic surrounding the art. i think it’s a pretty neat way to collaborate tbh :’) all art credit goes to her! overall, i like this prompt, but there’s some parts of dialogue that i’m kind of on the fence about. whatever, there’s some good fluffy robstar in it so i hope you all enjoy that!

Fever

“Aw dudes, no way! Why did it have to rain on the night I did my hair! Now it’s ruined!” Beast Boy complained as the titans stepped into OPS after a mission of fighting Dr. Light in the rain.

Raven watched Beast Boy and examined the wet green hair on his head. “Looks the same to me,” she said as she walked past him.

“Hey! It may look the same but hard work goes into my do every day!” The changeling explained as he put a hand to his hair and slicked it back. “I don’t know what I’d do without my good looks,” he said confidently. “Also, is it just me, or was the rain like, way cold?”

“Tell me about it,” Robin walked in squeezing the water from his cape. “It’s freezing,” he said shivering.

Cyborg walked into OPS next, feeling cheerful. “I’m glad we got home quickly, otherwise I would’ve had a lot more oiling to do for my robotic parts. I feel as good as ever!”

“Glad you’re feeling good, Cy, but I’m still soaked!” Beast Boy whined. “Luckily, the is a problem that can be easily fixed,” he smirked before morphing into a dog and shaking the water off his hairy coat, splashing water everywhere.

“Augh! Beast Boy!” Robin said as he shielded himself with his cape.

“Way to go, now the room’s all wet,” Raven said as she lowered her hood.

“Aw come on, it’s not that bad,” Beast Boy told them while morphing back to his normal form. “Besides, at least I’m dry! And it sounds to me like you guys need a movie night to cheer up!” Beast Boy said as he hurried to the glass cupboard under the television to find a movie for them to watch.

In that moment, Starfire came into the room holding a stack of towels. “Friends, would you like some towels to help you dry off?”

“No thanks, Star, I’m already dry,” Cyborg gave her a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good too, thanks Starfire.” Beast Boy said as he kept digging through the pile of movies they owned.

“Robin? Raven? Would you care for one?” Starfire asked them, holding out the pile.

“Actually, that doessound nice.” Raven took a towel and wrapped it around herself. “Thank you, Starfire,” she smiled.

“Yeah, thanks, Star.” Robin gave a warm smile at her in which she returned.

“Oh, dudes, we’ve got to watch this one!” Beast Boy said excitedly as he held up a movie. “We haven’t watched it in ages, plus, since when was the last time we watched a comedy?”

The titans got comfortable on the couch and put on the movie as the rain still continued to pour from outside. Everyone was laughing and having a good time except for Robin. Despite having the warm towel still wrapped around him he was still cold, and, quite frankly, a little tired. He tried to close his eyes for a few moments but the occasional shivers he’d get kept him from doing that. He wasn’t sure if it was just because of the usual cooler temperature of the OPS room but he ultimately decided to just sleep in his own room. He turned to Starfire who sat on his left. “Star,” he whispered.

“Hm?” Starfire turned her head in his direction.

“I think I’m just going to sleep for the rest of the night.”

“Oh? Are you tired?” She inquired.

“Yeah, very, and a little cold too.”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

“As much as I would like that, I think you should stay here.” Robin softly explained as he stroked the side of her arm. “I wouldn’t want the others to think we ditched them just so we could be together.”

“Hm, that is true. I can see how they might think that if we both left together.” Starfire paused for a second. “I will join you once we are done?”

Robin smiled and nodded. “Definitely,” he tilted her head slightly and captured her lips in a short kiss. He then glanced over to see the other three titans on his right side and made sure they weren’t looking to see him leave. He quietly got up and made his way to his room without any of the others noticing.

Once in his own space, Robin changed out of his damp uniform and into a loose t-shirt and shorts. He climbed into bed and wrapped himself up in the covers and blankets that lay on the bed. He felt much better and felt a lot warmer. Apparently, a good night’s sleep was all he needed.

The next morning, however, Robin felt even worse than before. He turned to his other side hoping to find Starfire there but she wasn’t in bed with him. He sighed. He hadn’t seen her since the previous night and even then he still didn’t feel a hundred percent.

His throat felt dry, so he reached for the glass of water he put by his side the night before and drank from it. He put the glass down after only a few sips, noting the uncomfortable feeling he had in his throat whenever he tried to swallow. He must’ve had a sore throat. “Great,”he thought. “just when things couldn’t get any worse.”Robin, only seeing it as a minor setback, put on a fresh set of uniform and headed out into OPS, continuing on with his morning.

Robin found the others in the OPS room just as he expected. It was just another typical morning for the team. He was about to go find a spot on the couch next to Cyborg and Beast Boy when Starfire approached him first. “Robin!” She said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

Robin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda.” He then remembered the events of the previous night. “You didn’t come to sleep with me?”

“What?” Starfire said confused. “I did, however, you looked so peaceful sleeping I did not want to disturb you.”

“Huh. I don’t remember you being next to me at all last night.”

“Yo, Rob! Glad you’re finally awake after all this time. C’mon dude! I could use another partner!” Beast Boy piped up from the couch as he waved his controller in the air.

Robin smiled at Starfire before departing and made his way to the couch. He took a breath through his mouth and exhaled, feeling quite hot. He sat down next to Beast Boy who was eagerly waiting for him.

“Me and Cy are playing this round, but whoever wins, you’llbe versing him.” The changeling explained.

“You’re goin’ down, grass stain!” Cyborg told Beast Boy.

“I dunno Cy~” Beast Boy teased. “You lost the last three rounds and your chances here are looking pretty slim.It seems that the video game Gods are in favour of me for a change!” He said confidently.

“Yeah, yeah, less talk, more playing!” Cyborg interrupted his rambling.

Robin watched the two of them start their match with tired eyes. He didn’t understand why he felt so tired again, and the irritation he felt in his throat certainly didn’t help. Hoping the boys wouldn’t notice, Robin laid down on the side of the couch, trying to ignore the itching feeling in his throat.

“Robin! Robiiiinnn! Robin, wake up!”

Robin slowly opened his eyes, which stung badly. He rubbed them and saw Beast Boy and the others around him. “Where… am I…?”

“Uh, on the couch? Right where you were just a few moments ago?” Beast Boy told him, hoping it would jog his memory. “It’s literally only been five minutes.”

“Are you okay, Robin? You haven’t been acting like yourself all morning.” Cyborg asked.

Robin sat up, feeling drowsy. “Yeah… why?”

“You don’t seem fine.” Raven said. “your temperatures appear to be fluctuating.”

“W-What? What do you mean?”

“Hmm…” Cyborg began. “I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down, Rave.” He turned to Robin. “Close your eyes and breathe in.”

“Why?” Robin gave him a look.

“Just do it.” Cyborg groaned.

Rolling his eyes, Robin did what he was told, but he barely had time to do so before Cyborg shoved something into his mouth. Robin recoiled backwards and Cyborg took the object out of Robin’s mouth. “What was that for?!”

“It was just a thermometer.” Cyborg said as he looked down at the reading.

“But I’m not even sick!” Robin exclaimed.

Cyborg looked back up at Robin. “You’re right, you’re reallysick.” Cyborg said as he waved the thermometer in the air. “103 seems pretty high to me.”

“Let me see that.” Beast Boy took the thermometer from Cyborg to read it himself, with Raven and Starfire on either side of him. The changeling’s eyes widened. “Woah, that is high, dude! Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“For the last time, I’m fine. I hardly ever get sick.” Robin told the others before a short pause, followed by a small sneeze and sniffle which came from him. The other titans exchanged looks, obviously not believing him.

“How do you even suppose he got sick?” Cyborg asked. “Ya think it had something to do with the rain last night?”

“If you’re saying rain gets people sick, then I’m staying out of it.” Beast Boy exclaimed.

“Rain itself won’t get you sick, colder temperatures do.” Raven cut in. “Rain is just water, but colder temperatures can weaken the human immune system, which can cause people to get sick.”

“And it was cold last night…” Beast Boy said as he rubbed his chin.

“If he has a fever, it wouldn’t be a total surprise if he also has a sore throat, since body temperature also rise when it’s fighting an infection…” Raven continued.

“You guys know I’m still here, right?” Robin interrupted. “This doesn’t make any sense… how come I’ve never seen of you guys sick?”

“Maybe…” Cyborg started. “because they’re from another planet,” Cyborg pointed to Starfire and Raven. “he’s got a different genetic code,” he pointed to Beast Boy. “and I’m part robot. Basically, you’re the only one of all of us who’s fully human, which is why we’re immune to that stuff.”

“Lucky… I’d do anything to get better.” Robin groaned.

“Then it is a good thing you can get better.” Starfire said as she picked Robin up bridal style and held him in her arms.

“Star?! What are you doing?” Robin asked as she walked toward the doors leading out of the OPS room.

“We are going to get you better as soon as possible,” she said with determination.

“But I-“ Robin started as he looked back to where the other titans were standing.

“No buts, Robin.” Starfire interrupted him. “If you wish to get better, you must admit that you are sick and not resist on getting healthy.”

Robin didn’t know how to reply to that. “O-Okay…” was all he could say as he let Starfire carry him away to his room.

Once they arrived there with Robin back in his bed, he got under his covers once again and looked back up at Starfire. “I do feel better just lying down, but now what do I do?”

“You don’t need to do anything, beloved. Let me take care of you.” Starfire kissed the top of his head before departing, not giving enough time for Robin to reply in time.

“Wait! Seriously?” Was all Robin could say in time. A few short moments later she came back with at least three different blankets and pillows, which she handed to him.

“You might as well get comfortable, Robin, because you won’t be leaving this room for at least little while.” Starfire told him.

“So I’m just supposed to stay here until I get better? All by myself?” Robin asked as he laid out all the blankets on top of him.

“Of course not, I can stay with you for as long as you want.” She reassured him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay just because I’m sick…”

“You silly, you being sick is the reason I wantto stay.” Starfire said as she unfolded one of the blankets and placed it on top of him. “Now wait here for a moment, I will be back with something else.”

Robin watched her leave and was left by himself to think. He really wish he wasn’t feeling so crappy, but he was super grateful he had such a caring girlfriend who wanted to take care of him. He perked up a little when she returned with a box of tissues and a hot mug.

She placed down the tissues on the bed and held out the hot mug. “Here, drink this.”

“What is it?” Robin asked as he sat up a little.

“It’s herbal tea,” Starfire said. “Raven taught me how to make it. She said it’s good for illnesses like yours.”

Robin took the mug from Starfire and let it sit in his hands for a moment. He blew on it before taking a small sip and swallowed it, liking how the the warmth of the liquid soothed the back of his irritated throat. He took a few more sips in peaceful silence as Starfire watched contently. After the last sip, he lowered the mug and exhaled, obviously having enjoyed drinking the tea.

Starfire softly giggled at that. She always found her boyfriend to be undeniably cute doing little things that he didn’t pay much attention to, just the little quirks that made Robin his adorable self. “How does that feel?” Starfire said with a smile still on her face.

“Much better, thanks for that.”

“You are most welcome.” Starfire said. She then looked at Robin’s bed. “Could you move forward please?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robin said, thinking Starfire would add another pillow to the pile he already had which propped him up, but instead of a pillow, Starfire shifted onto his bed and ended up behind him, with him laying in her arms along with the pillows as well. He was surprised, and looked up at her from where his head rested on her chest. “I hope you do not mind me joining you.” Starfire said.

“No, it’s perfect, actually. I like this a lot…” Robin said as he let his head fall back, his eyes meeting with hers. “Thank you, Star, I really appreciate this. You didn’t have to do all this, seriously, I could’ve just done this all on my own, and you could’ve saved some time as well.”

“You are not wrong, Robin, however, you know how I like to spend any extra time I have with you, even if it is helping you recover from an illness.” Starfire told him. “I care about you deeply, and I would do anything for you, you know that.”

“Of course I do. I’d do the same thing for you too, even though you can’t really get sick.”

Starfire giggled. “No, not necessarily.” She reached down and ran her fingers through his messy black hair.

“But I would do anything for you too, you know that right?” Robin asked as her stared into her gleaming eyes.

“Yes, I do know,” Starfire had nearly chuckled as she laid a hand on Robin’s cheek, which he leaned his face into. “And I am glad to have someone who cares just as much for me as I do to them.”

“Me too, it feels nice to know that.” Robin said as Starfire continued to run her fingers through his thick hair. She did so in silence for a moment longer, absolutely loving the way Robin pushed into her touch. She knew he wanted more, and he knew she knew it as well.

“Feels good?” Starfire gave him a look as she watched his face as she continued.

“Mmm, very.” Robin nearly sighed. He took her hand that was on his cheek and kissed it twice before stroking it with his thumb. “My princess…” he said lazily. “I love you so much.”

She smiled and leaned forward, leaving a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too.”

The two of them continued to lay together in bed until eventually they both ended up falling asleep together, feeling happy to have each other, always.

#teen titans #robin #starfire #robstar #robstar week #robstarweek2019 #oneshot #also i’m surprised that there aren’t more fics of robin getting sick??#he IS the most human of all the titans so why not

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 5 years

Text

In Chains (Chapter Two) Bound by Misery (Trafalgar Law)

As fate would have it – sarcastically speaking – she hurtled like a fallen angel back into his life. It was a little strange, when he took the time to think about it, but not as much as it first appeared. Samira was intended to cross paths with him, which was funny, because he never believed in destiny before.

And yet, something powerful was at work here; something that wanted him to meet her.

That’s why he thought she was an angel; no two people just casually found one another after deviating paths. He was meant to be far away from this place, and she was meant … well to be a figment of his imagination. His crew thought he was drunk – thanks to a certain loud mouthed woman he wanted to rope up and use as Sea King bait.

Which came as a shock to them whenever Shachi brought her on board; she was not a delusion caused by his intoxicated mind. She was real – out cold, but real. The cheeky man wanted to rub this fact deep into their unintelligent faces, but he could wait. His angel was in serious need of medical attention.

She had a broken arm – the skin was swollen and the bone was close to breaking through. Shachi figured she landed roughly when she hit the water. It made him nervous to think that she may have slammed into the rock face on the way down. Although the drop wasn’t fatal, approximately 20 meters above the water – if Shachi had to guess – a height such this was still powerful enough to shatter bone. Her condition might be worse than he originally thought, and with little time to take her to the doctor on the island, a dicey idea came to mind.

“Captain … the Captain. Someone go and call for him,” he cried out in haste. Shachi honestly didn’t care who; he simply wanted it done.

Bepo – who was on deck – went to retrieve him, uttering a noise of concern beneath his breath as he descended into the mechanical bowels of the Polar Tang. Everyone else – Penguin included – stood and watched; as to why, it was obvious.

Law was repulsed by the notion of helping people. The exception, of course, was his crew and those who benefited him by doing so – Monkey D. Luffy for example.

Relying on his connection with Law – as a member of his crew – he hoped that the doctor would mend her broken bones; no favor included.

But just in case, he had something to sweeten the pot.

Her wanted poster was hidden in the lining of his suit. He kept it because Ikkaku never would have believed him otherwise; she denied it despite the proof and thus the rumor of him being drunk was made. Oh how sweet the rights to boast would be, if only again would Samira open her sad eyes. Her smile was all he wanted, but that depended on his Captain.

Her life was literally in Law’s hands.

Which is why he felt nervous as said man walked out onto the deck – Bepo followed closely behind him. He met his Captain’s tired stare, determined to put up as much of a fight as he could, but Law didn’t seem like he was in the mood to deal with this right now. Knowing that he’d fail to reason with the man, Shachi bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It’s all my fault this happened. I got her involved with the bounty hunters in town,” he explained. His fingers brushed her damp wet hair from her troubled face. She was warm; a fever, he assumed.

Law grunted; his crew was bad about getting into trouble. It was not his problem what became of the girl, but Shachi seemed to be terribly concerned about her safety. It annoyed Law; his crewmate probably would not let her go without seeing her well.

“Jean … how soon can we leave this island?”

Law kept his stern gaze on the girl. He failed to notice the troubled look his red haired crewmate gave.

A mountain of a man quietly answered him. “Right now; on your order, Captain.”

“Then let’s make haste. Get ready to submerge.”

His crew – everyone but Shachi – quickly began to prepare, withdrawing into the sub. Law himself wanted to go back to his studies, but stopped short of doing so and looked over his shoulder. He felt like chores were a suitable enough punishment for dragging him into this mess.

“We’ll talk about your punishment later,” he stated with a grin. “For now, take her to operating room so I can have a look at her.”

Shachi nodded with a frown – punishments when given by his Captain were the worst; weeks’ worth of hard labor – and lifted her into his arms. She was a tiny thing compared to him, which made him coo in delight as he followed his crew into the sub.

The door was sealed behind him; the sun replaced by the dim flicker of lamp light as he navigated through the narrow corridors. Reaching the medical room, Law was already there, wearing a pair of white surgical gloves.

He motioned to a bed made with clean sheets and let Shachi place the girl down. She was quickly hooked up to a series of machines – an IV and pulse oximeter; including many others. Her shallow heart rate alerted Law, but to figure out why, he needed to strip her of the clothing that restricted his view.

“Put on a pair of gloves and open her cloak,” he ordered his crewmate.

He wants me actually stay and help? As much as Shachi wanted to know why he didn’t want to miss the chance to see his angel without her cloak on. He was not a pervert – Ikkaku would say otherwise – and no harm came from looking. So without thinking too much into it, he did as his Captain had asked.

“What’s her name?”

Shachi glanced at the tired man in shock before he realized that Law was recording her information down. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking; perhaps small talk to lighten the mood.

“Amunet Samira,” he answered with a brief smile. Foreign as her name was, it was no less beautiful. “She is … an outsider I believe. When I knocked her over in the bar she hissed something at me in a language that I had never heard before.”

“She’s bilingual then?”

Nodding in agreement, Shachi laughed softly. “Yeah, and not bad with a baton either. She knocked a bounty hunter completely out before I came to her rescue.”

Not just another pretty face. Law cautioned himself; she was attractive, of course, but the hunters were after her for some reason – he’d find out sooner or later, he’d be sure of that.

“How did you meet her? I want to understand how she came to be on my sub.”

“At the bar; I met her there,” Shachi answered. His face exploded with embarrassed heat as he recalled the way she looked at him so hatefully in that moment. He’d been awestruck. “I dropped my newspaper and her bounty poster was amongst the others.”

Bounty poster? Law glanced down at the girl. This frail looking thing? He hadn’t the time to look through the new batch he got from Uri earlier, which annoyed him, because had he known that she was trouble, he would have demanded she be removed from his sub immediately. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to continue listening to the story – sometimes his eagerness to plan ahead landed him an even bigger headache when life threw a kink at him.

“… I like blew her mind with my style of martial arts – she was so amazed that her eyes lit up – but she insisted we part ways; places to go is what she said. I lost track of her after that and returned to my duties,” the prattling red head explained. He sighed in pity and took her limp hand in his. “But then she fell off the cliff side. I heard Penguin yell when it happened and before I even understood what I was doing, I leapt into the water. Imagine my surprise when I pulled her from the depths; it was like fate.”

Law wasn’t sure fate was the word to describe it; dumb luck was more like it. The girl couldn’t have known his crew had moved the Polar Tang from the port once they were stocked up on supplies. Her timing was impeccable. One minute later and they would have submerged; Amunet Samira would have drowned.

One little thing still eluded him, however. Shachi had to have worked on her when he pulled her from the water; she was breathing and the machines showed that her pulse was there, but something was keeping her from regaining consciousness. Law wasn’t sure just what had happened to her, but he had a hunch that she was still awake before she hit the water. Her body was much too tense for a person who was supposed to be unconscious.

As a doctor, Law had to know why, even if he had to disassemble her body to find out. He tapped her chart against the machine next to him and gestured for Shachi to remove her cloak – it was not good for her to still be wrapped up in it.

“Let us make haste. She may be in a lot worse shape than either one of us had first thought.”

Shachi nodded in agreement. He quickly unfastened the press-stud beneath her chin and opened up the thick, ruined fabric. The ink on her waist was nearly exposed; he was truly eager to see it.

Only, what he saw was far more than he originally expected. A rocking body with a cute tattoo was one thing, but this; this was a gold mine.

“Is … is that––

Law could not believe his eyes. Shimmering jewels; her clothing was decorated with them. There were so many, he surmised that his crew might be able to live comfortably on them for a while. Even her wrists and ankles were adorned with gold and silver bangles.

“Can we … I mean … should we take them?”

Law grinned; of course they should.

“Later; ignore them for now. I’ll have Ikkaku collect them once we’re done,” he ordered. Her safety came first; payment later. It was the least he could do.

Furthermore, her tattoos interested him. Law traced a gloved finger across a series of blue dots and lines that covered her left wrist down to her knuckles. He had never seen markings like this before; they were unique.

“What do you think it means?”

Law narrowed his eyes. “This particular method looks ancient; indigenous even. Frankly, I’m not sure.”

What captivated him the most was the other tattoo; a serpent coiled freely around her waist.

It was different than the previous one; not as unique, but more of an attention grabber. The drawing was very detailed, all down to the very last scale. Many of them were hatched with a wide black edge so that the scales aligned to form broken V-shapes of uneven length. This led him to believe that the scarlet eyed snake was meant to be painted as a warning for those who saw it; a warning to keep away from this girl.

The idea of something so innocent being so fatal unsettled Law. He figured the only way to insure the safety of his crew was to lock her away until he knew she would not be a threat.

“What’s this thing?”

Law glanced at the long, thin object his crewmate was holding. It appeared to be a dart attached to a transparent base that was shaped like the head of a frog. Inside the base was a mucus like substance that until tested he didn’t want Shachi to tamper with.

“Where did you find that? And be sure not to pierce your skin with it; the liquid could be poisonous.”

Shachi went pale and set the object into a small metal dish. “I pulled it from her leg.”

Did someone try to kill her with poison? It made no sense to the concerned red head. The disclaimer on her bounty poster suggested that whoever was looking for her wanted her alive. Why do it? Why attempt to kill her? So much belly was involved; more than enough to keep a small crew comfortable for months.

“I don’t understand,” Shachi groaned. She was more valuable alive then dead.

Strangely enough, neither did Law. He was clever, but this girl was an mystery. What secrets did she hide?

“Leave us,” the Captain ordered. “Return to your duties, and when I’m done you can move her to my room. She’s too much of a threat to allow unsupervised.”

Puckering out his bottom lip, Shachi agreed with a nod. He saw her first – she kissed his cheek – but he understood the concerns of his somber captain. The crew and it’s safety came first. Yet, her safety was all he could think about.

He just hoped Samira wasn’t beyond help.

Waking suddenly, her eyes moved frantically around the room. It was unfamiliar to her; nothing was how she remembered it.

Samira tried lifting up, but her body felt weak. Therefore, she rested into the mattress of the comfy bed and found her bearings. What did she know? She knew that demons from her past resurfaced and tried to drag her back to hell with them – metaphorically speaking. They almost succeeded, but her strange power saved her.

But then how did I get here? Where was here? From her position on the bed – if she glanced to the right – she could see a metal desk; barren with the exception of a stack of thick books on its glossy surface. There were no pictures on the walls, nor any keepsakes to articulate the interests of the person whose bedroom she was inhabiting, but she could tell that whoever they were – he or she – kept the room clean and private.

To be honest, it was more like an office than a bedroom.

Someone’s bedroom, she thought. As startling as this was to her, Samira had figured out the where to her question. But how? Did the owner of this room find her? All she could remember was falling; that and whatever illness became of her before she passed out. Strange. The illness was gone.

But then why did her body feel so heavy and weak? I could almost go back to sleep. This bed is wonderful. Samira sighed in bliss and closed her tired eyes. Maybe she would; just for a little while anyway. She still needed to figure out who saved her and where they had taken her.

Before she drifted off to sleep, the door across the room opened with a loud creak and someone came in. Samira kept her eyes shut, but she could hear them move around, like they were familiar with the layout – probably the owner of the room, she speculated. Once they left, she peaked across the room and noticed a tray on top of the desk; a tray that wasn’t there before. A bowl of something warm sat on top of it.

Her stomach felt empty. When was the last time she had eaten? Samira couldn’t remember. She was hungry, though. All thoughts of sleep had left her.

Trying again, she all but threw herself in the floor to get up. She was able to pull the covers back and move into a sitting position with her feet on the floor, but something caught her eye and stopped her progress. She was dressed in a fresh set of clothing; a basic colorless shirt and a pair of cotton sweatpants. Where was her previous set? Even the bangles around her wrists and ankles were missing.

They wouldn’t have taken them … or would they have? None of that mattered right now. Baby steps.

Samira pushed herself onto her feet and moved slowly over to the desk; her legs were shaky and numb. She managed to make it, but figured that eating at the desk would be a lot easier than moving the tray back to the bed – that was a risk she did not want to take. Resting in a plush swivel chair, she began to down the warm broth.

Before she finished, and without warning, the door swung open again. A gasp of shock escaped from her as she was caught off guard and in mid swallow. Samira choked on the broth, covering her mouth so not to spit it out and onto the desk. It took her a minute, but she was able to catch her breath and shoot a frustrated glare at the person who dared to sneak up on her.

He was a slim man; one of tall stature, dressed in a yellow hoodie with black sleeves that he kept rolled up. Several tribal styled tattoos decorated his arms, but what concerned Samira the most was the emblem printed on his chest. It looked familiar to her; not this design – with its six T-shaped protrusions – but something close to it. She couldn’t quite remember were she had seen it before, but something about it brought dread to her.

A pirate … that’s what he is. That was the reason her bangles were missing; he stole them.

Samira cursed in her native language and spat at him. Whatever he wanted from her, couldn’t have been good.

“That’s not a polite way to thank someone who just saved your life,” he said in a casual tone.

She snorted in appall. “Not without a price. I have sympathy for the souls who fall victim to your good will; unconscious or not.”

A smile lifted his lips. “I never claimed to be a generous man, Amunet-ya. You just had the terrible luck of falling into my care.”

He knows my name. The alarmed expression on her face made his smile grow.

Law sat on the edge of his bed and gave her a quick glance over. She looked better, although her eyes were clouded with exhaustion and fear.

“That is your name, right? Amunet Samira; at least your bounty poster says it is.”

“It tells the truth,” she confirmed. Toying with the edge of her top, Samira tried to figure out a way to evade the questions she knew he was going to ask. He may have saved her, but somethings were better left unsaid.

“Do I get to know the name of the man who saved my life?”

Yes, her mood corrected, but only because she knew that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Pirates rarely ever listened to sense, or took well to being yelled at. He saw her bounty poster, so he knew just how important she was. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“Trafalgar Law,” he answered curtly. “But it wasn’t me who saved you; not solely. A crewmate of mine, Shachi was. He fished you from the ocean and brought you aboard my sub.”

Sub … what the hell is that? And did he say that Shachi was the one who saved me? Her eyes widened in admiration; beldi al-shajaan (my brave).

“I am thrilled to hear that; he is a good man. Mester (mister) Trafalgar, was it? If you would allow it, I’d like to thank him properly.”

Law sighed in displeasure. She was good at changing the topic when it suited her; it annoyed him. He’d definitely have to keep her on track if he wanted to learn more about her. It felt strange for him to admit this, but something about Samira interested him. Her eyes held a sense of understanding in them – tragedy that he was all too familiar with.

“Another time perhaps,” Law replied as he stood up. “Use my room until you get better. The next island is about a five day sail from here.”

Samira brushed her bristly white hair behind her ear – she really needed a warm bath. “What then? What do you and your crew plan to do with me once we arrive?”

“Turn you in,” he said with a controlled smile. “But until then, enjoy your stay aboard my sub, Amunet-ya. I look forward to collecting your bounty money.”

Her face paled. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to act; escape before it was too late. She could use her power, but with little knowledge of the crew’s whereabouts, she might end up killing a few. A controlled blast was out of the question. What could she really do? Maybe she could get him to sympathize with her.

“You don’t understand,” she said with a gloomy sigh. “I can’t go back, and I can’t explain why, but if he finds me, everyone is as good as dead.”

As good as dead? And who is he? Law was confused. He shed a little light on the mystery of why someone put out a bounty poster for her, but at least a hundred more questions came to mind. Just who the hell was she? What trouble did Shachi bring aboard his sub?

“Get some rest, Amunet-ya.”

With this, he left her to her thoughts. A smile grew on his face as he ambled down the empty corridor towards the galley. She was a mystery indeed. A possible danger to his crew and to him, but either way, he was going to make a lot of belly off her.

“Lost her, you said?”

Mariposa pressed her lips together. Her tiny wings fluttered in anticipation, but she doubted she’d get a slap on the hand for her resent mess up.

Again she failed to capture the brat. Stupid … so very stupid.

“She used her power on us. Mr. Toad got the worst end of it, but he managed to paralyze her with one of his Froggie Darts before she fled into the woods,” she explained softly.

A soft hum filled the line. The baby transponder snail mocked this gesture; it’s black painted lips pressed into a thin line.

“I fail to see how you two lost her then? You do understand that she is a valuable asset to us? The buyers have been asking for another demonstration of her power, and we have nothing to show them.”

The small woman frowned. It wasn’t her fault the brat escaped. Arsenio was supposed to capture her; she was only meant to spread her scales in case she fled again, so they could easily track her.

“Are you having trouble hearing me, Mari? I believe a question was asked.”

“No sir. We lost her the moment she was picked up by a crew of pirates in a yellow submarine. My scales can not be tracked beneath the ocean, so I am having trouble confirming a location,” she chirped in fear. This man caused her skin to crawl.

The transponder snail hummed again. “A yellow submarine, you said?”

Again she fluttered her wings in anticipation. “Yes sir. Do you know of it?”

“Only in rumors,” the deep and calm voice said with a sigh. “It is navigated by a crew whose captain is famous in the north; a man named Trafalgar Law. He is a dangerous and crafty pirate. It is unfortunate that the asset landed in his care.”

Law; she wasn’t familiar with the name. “On a brighter note, I know which port this Trafalgar will be anchoring in next. In two days’ time Mr. Toad and I can intercept them and take back the asset.”

“That is not necessary,” her boss stated. “Use the Eternal Pose and return back to the Isle. I have another job for you. Arsenio will be fine on his own. Tell him not to fail me this time. Do I make myself clear?”

She agreed with a nod. “Yes sir; crystal clear.”

The line immediately went dead, and the transponder snail went back to sleep. Mariposa bit her bottom lip – warm tears fell down her rosy cheeks.

I can’t afford to bomb this mission. I don’t want to go back to that factory and end up a slave to that man again. Not like those weak fools and their sad excuse for a princess.

She took a deep calming breath. Now was not the time to cry. She had an important job to do. Her freedom depended on it.

#trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece #original female character #romance #tragic #heart pirates

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antivirusprogram2020 · 4 years

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I am an antivirus program (2020)

> CHAPTER 2 The new human type cannot be properly understood without an awareness of what he is continuously exposed to from the world - Theodor Adorno. Minima Moralia, 1951 We can not change the medium as the medium is predicated on the message (use my square space code for a 10% discount)- we are fixed in this web 2.0 and the control of knowledge will be met with the streamlining of UI and UX design. Design tools like the adobe programs will continue to increase their premium and their monopoly hold on the design space - to be a designer is to be implicated with this process, regardless if you pirate software or notThis is where I raise flags against the tepid conglomeration of blog sites and web in general, the astroturfing of the internet has only amplified the feedback of Graphic Design. You’d typically call this commercial design. Commercial design fits the criteria of an evolving media world, “It is important to note that this ultimate stage of pictorialization was a reversal of pattern. The world of body and mind...was not photographical at all, but anonvisual set of relations”1. Commercial Design started to drive an efficiency science behind it’s aesthetic - you make the access mode immediate and your engagement success is far higher, and you do this through the pictogram, and when photography came about, that too was made into a design appendage. “To understand the medium of the photograph is quite impossible, then, without grasping its relations to other media, both old and new. For media, as extensions of our physical and nervous systems, constitute a world of biochemical interactions that must ever seek new equilibrium as new extensions occur.”1 This is potentially a valuable understanding of media, and thus design, presented by media theorist Marshall Mcluhan, commercial design (and all art and design in a sense) are schizophrenic presentations of the world, they accumulate meanings outside the presented scope of an advertisement, or typography - they link the relational experience of the mass media consumer, as Mcluhan states. However, this is not all, he states an ‘equilibrium as new extensions occur’ - in my context now this weighs with a great importance, we know the new extensions already, something that Mcluhan unfortunately didn’t get to experience fully, and that’s the web, the modern computer, the pocket mobile device. These are in their own rights mediums, your OS (operating system) is a computer language medium that dictates other program mediums, the access mode to the rest of the systems of design, websites contain live feeds and streams to distant realities, it’s all so lucid but at the same time it feels like an astral projection. At times this can feel nauseating, that collapsing feeling of ‘space’ and ‘time’. This presents a wider problem with modern design, technology has embedded itself into the core of the practice since the dawn of paper and pen, stone and chisel etc. The problem being that while technology has stopped gapped connectivity, it refuses to go further - refuses to return the creativity of a design practice unless commandeered. This has led to the necessity for the designer to code, and script, to kit bend and utilise AI - once again “fragmenting” the work role. “Under conditions of electric circuitry, all the fragmented job patterns tend to blend once more into involving and demanding roles or forms of work that more and more resemble teaching, learning, and “human” service, in the older sense of dedicated loyalty.” Graphic design namely has done well to adapt and reshape, showing its versatility in the age of digital design. Not only that, it hybridizes aesthetic models much like a fashion season generates new styles, which keeps design itself fresh and alive, while sometimes slipping into the contrived and over-saturated. But is the “human” service really what Graphic Design is becoming? It certainly hints to this with the proactive design studio model. Interaction and Bureaucracy, it’s an efficiency tactic. All design requires hierarchy even if that hierarchy is to not have one. I see the office space, I remember the spider plant, I see the shore line, I see the whitecaps. The workers space is a micro-territorial space of capital politics and a grab for faux socialism in most cases, in some, it is an honest attempt to form comradery - the cafeteria is an effective grounds to reinforce or detourne this thinking. People like artist Olafur Eliasson effectively install a commons space for the studio team to interact and communicate, job roles are made equal in that space. “The studio, as much as we don’t like it, means working in your own little departments, compartmentalised. And there are hierarchies even though everyone’s a part of the democracy. The kitchen is a nice leveller.” It’s a universal ideology that falls into a majority of Eliasson’s work that provides an effective future-proof for how the operations of studio practice should be carried out (see the Auteur myth). My cynicism is only symptomatic of the consumerist prerequisite that allows design to exist in the first place - a degree in the topic definitely is met with a careerist sentiment, to be financially viable within a milieu of art and design subjects. Graphic Design should not try to divorce itself from this grouping, it stands stronger with the complex wovings and multitudes that allow it to bloom as an individual practice that arranges the practice of others. The efforts here are a concern with the design practice no less, and how ethics and politics are sequestered by a shifting responsibility of effects, how and why Graphic design mutated into the corporate virus that it is now. ”All media work us over completely.”8 This is Mcluhan’s sentiment from his writings in the 60’s, and It stands up true to this day, more so than ever. Algoration (the use of data algorithms to curate a web feed) are notorious and globally implemented into most ‘social media’, but outside social media, it’s used as predictive data. This is the “reversal pattern”, Graphic Design puts a face to this slippery coded underbelly. The automation of design media has become an efficient business strategy to overmine its user base data, and subsequently requires illustration. To be concise, the study of the Graphic Designer is in part the study of Media, the study of media is the lens of relational activities and connectivity. And this is the permitted virus. Adversely, the antivirus program is a research protocol invested in studying the autonomy available to a Graphic Designer, and an extended hand to all fragmented sectors that require a similar reclamation. Language dictates media – media manufactures consent, therefore language manufactures consent. A small quibble no less, that the Graphic Designer goes to bed with media every day. And in the morning they arise with vast spawns of editorials, emailing lists, content posts - lots of fucking content posts by content creatures. The homogeneous sprawl of media is a compounded expository of new design conditions. “Today, the mass audience can be used as a creative, participating force. It is, instead, merely given packages of passive entertainment.”8 The passive entertainment is reflexive of its audience, an audience that is content on not being challenged when engaging and consuming media, not being challenged when creating and releasing it - the language logic is a false preposition - things don’t have to occur in the forefront of our percepts, media can be a stealth operation for critical theory or a dog whistle for nazis. Even a glass of milk is steeped in meaning. “The photograph is just as useful for collective, as for individual, postures and gestures, whereas written and printed language is biased toward the private and individual(s) posture.”1 Mcluhan and designer Rapheal Roake seem to fit perfectly in collusion with one another here, “All design is a political act”, this fits Mcluhan’s collective principle for the photograph precisely, as this explicitly gives backing to the relational dynamics of media itself, it sits in the collective sphere - the global village. It all begins to feel like a fever dream, the spectres of Helvetica, Comic sans and Papyrus jumping on your chest as you’re paralysed in a waking dream. Blink and you’ll miss the horses head 144hz refresh rate. The grid settings of your life are closing in tighter and tighter as you cant kern in a moment for peace, please adobe I’m plugged in to your creative cloud let me use my kettle already, yes dear, they’re wacom tablet plates, we threw out the cutlery and replaced them for tote bags and ironic panel hats. The decoherence of the 21st century is here and it’s got anthropocene smeared all over its lips. Everyone wants to fuck their OLED displays, the screen is constantly flirting with me, it bulges and writhes along with it’s circuitry like an obscene Cronenburg slide show, and with a tilt of the hinge, it rips my hands straight off the bone. It’s simultaneously psychosexual and completely meaningless, but there doesn’t seem to be any Big Other alternative, can you see the demons wearing the guise of post-modernity, and where they emit a solar flare? Just tryna game the system can’t you see, if I shake it at just the right moment, at the right angle, I’ll get an additional diet coke. You don’t understand how fucking much I like diet coke. A man who finds himself among others drinking diet coke is irritated because he does not know why he is not one of the others drinking diet coke. I have graphic design Stockholm syndrome, what do you mean you don’t know who Gerrit Noordzij is? At this point going outside will trigger my flight or fight response, I’m afraid of being swooped by seagulls while I’m bound on a rock, I sleep in a bed with a faraday blanket, I’m absolutely glowing, washed in sunlight. “As for the anticipation of reality by images, the precession of images and media in relation to events, such that the connection between cause and effect becomes scrambled and it becomes impossible to tell which is the effect of the other” These collective postures translate into all modern media and are littered with effects. One is singular and rhizomatic in any given instance of engagement towards media and the invisible hand of the ‘designer’. And on the contrary the medium is an assemblage of arborescence and is later politicised in the factory line assembly - a by-product of ‘essential’ capital labor. The capital fiction is overwritten by the post-market mythos of a company and it’s figureheads, it’s in-house publishing team use individual members to feature in nice magazines. Effects, we are overcome by so many different effects daily, to the extent that we become desensitized to the potential the subsequent causes and effects, modern reality makes sure to compound these consequences of media to a sensory overload of hysteria, the neurotic ones take to pinterest to organise themselves. We like to order things, It gives clarity and comfort within the dysphoria and entropy of our lives, pinterest, tumblr, are.na, instagram are all negentropical solutions in an overstimulated digital environment. “Instant communication insures that all factors of the environment and of experience coexist in a state of active interplay.”8 To understand this I need to clarify that the medium, the message, the photograph and all subsets of visual and nonvisual information are communication - it goes without saying - but this establishes the politicised and astroturfed space of Graphic Design, a designer is expected to make commercially viable work to thrive, and usually this is achieved by co-opting styles to any degree appropriate to a brief. This results is the parody, the hyperstition and hyperobject - an overly ironic and self aware ventilation apparatus that keeps the gimmicks of Graphic Design alive. The overtures of a design piece can appear stark placid and regurgitated. It’s very much easy to default to a ctrl-c, ctrl-v automation process. Reinforced no less by an autodidact push of some educational institutions - more concerned with juggling design briefs than focusing their teachings on a core design system (despite their ever love for the Bauhaus - yes huni the library is open). Of course, with the new emphasis on a technology dominated world we are expected to rely and reinforce the techno-dependent designer (work smart not hard). And we are yet to catch up to this mutation in design, where design was once a phylogeny of different features that collected to assume a physical medium, centrered on type, constrained by fibres and ink and oil - these components have congealed onto the Macbook, the ergonomics of physical/digital unbound the Designer from the difficulties of a physical medium. So why do we remain in the realm of rehashing typefaces and conventional media, why are we tied down to the revolving doors of design trends - surely now than ever we have all the components, all the tools to produce new design movements, this can’t keep up “When the circuit learns your job, what are you going to do?”8

#antivirus #ual #graphicdesign #art #line drawing #stock #stock image #meme #chapter 2 #ANTIVIRUS%20TEXT

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