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#like it’s okay if you’re 40 years old and don’t know what a stereotype looks like
scarrletmoon · 4 months
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the reason why white liberals are often more frustrating than white conservatives when it comes to race is that the first group finds ways to convince themselves that once they know not to say slurs, their work is done
trying to explain, for example, the racism behind writing a nonwhite character as dirty and in need of white guidance, is like talking to a brick wall. sometimes POC can be messy! sometimes they have white friends who help them! you’re hurting my feelings by assuming ill intent!
i suppose when you live in a world that allows you the luxury of individuality and the privilege of never thinking about your own race, none of this makes sense to you. but if someone points out that something you did is racist, and you throw a tantrum about it or wring your hands and insist that you didn’t mean it that way — i’m so sorry, but you’re being a coward. you’re putting your own feelings ahead of someone else’s, because you’ve been taught that discomfort is worse than the actual harm you’ve caused
yeah, you didn’t mean to step on my foot. but you still did it, and it’s VERY weird if you demand i apologize for bringing up that it hurt
you’re a grown ass adult with access to the internet and countless books on this topic. the solution to that discomfort is not to bury your head in the sand and run to your white friends for comfort. the solution is to arm yourself with knowledge and unlearn everything you’ve been taught about how racism actually works
there is no quick fix. there is no youtube video you can watch that will make sure you’re never racist again. there is no class you can take or fee you can pay that will grant you Racism Immunity. sorry. you’re going to have to put the hard work in
“but what if someone says something is racist and it’s not actually!” you know, if you actually did the work and gained the knowledge, you’d know what to do in that situation
you have absolutely no idea how loud the cosmic background radiation of racism has to get before we start calling it out. if you can be angry and frustrated about trying to explain the same shit over and over again, why can’t we?
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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years
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A Family Affair
Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader
We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of. 
Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies.  This fic will definitely be a two parter
Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!
TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships
Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut
Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.
You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.
You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.
The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.
"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."
She nodded.
"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."
You smiled when she giggled and ran off.
Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"
He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.
"Uh - forty-two."
He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.
Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?
"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"
She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."
Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"
You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.
"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.
"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."
"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."
You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.
The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.
Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.
"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"
The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."
You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.
"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"
The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.
Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.
"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"
She shook her head.
A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."
You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.
"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"
She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.
He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.
You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"
"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."
You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."
"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."
There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.
"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.
There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."
Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?
There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.
The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.
Eri.  You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.
"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"
"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.
"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"
Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.
You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"
You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.
The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.
"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.
"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."
Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.
"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.
Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.
"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."
---
It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.
When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.
You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.
You should've left.
You should've left.
You should've left.
Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.
You should've left.
You should've left.
You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.
"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."
He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.
"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."
Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.
Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."
He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.
"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."
Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.
With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:
"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."
He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.
"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"
With narrowed eyes he continued:
"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."  
The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .
"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee.  "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."
---
After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.
Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.
"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."
The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.
The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."
She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.
"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."
The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."
Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.
"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."
Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.
---
There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.
"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.
"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”
The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.
"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."
For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.
"You're going to kill me?”  
Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.
"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."
Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”
There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.
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zhuhongs · 3 years
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Ever since I watched Your Name Engraved Herein two weeks ago, I have wanted to talk about Jiahan as whole but in particular this scene right here that starts around the 40 minute mark. 
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CW’s: discussion of religion, internalized homophobia, violent homophobia, choking, and lack of consent. Generally, the same cws as in the movie. 
Read more bc it’s uh.. 2.7k
all images are described in alt text
As soon as I watched this scene I just knew it had to be really significant and now rewatching YNEH, I realize that this is a major ideological turning point for Jiahan as a character. From this point on he slowly begins to accept that he’s gay and starts to consciously act on his feelings for Birdy. However, I must first add some context and insights on Jiahan’s prior behavior before I dive into this scene as a whole. At the beginning of the movie, we see that while Jiahan feels different from the rest of his roomates, he still sneaks out with them when they go hook up with girls, despite not showing any interest in the girl he’s with. He feels very different from the rest of his friends, but still goes along with them due to peer pressure. Later, he tries to dissuade them from violently hazing the gay student, Xie Zhenhong, (his name is never said in the film but it says so on his uniform shirt, and that what I’ll refer to him as for the rest of the post) but is reluctantly influenced to gang up on the student as well. He closes his eyes while he’s about to strike the bat down on the student, until Birdy rescues the student-- and Jiahan in a way-- from what is about to play out. After this, his friends accuse him of being in the same stall as Birdy (which he was) but he denies it, not wanting to explain why he was there and the ensuing taunting from his friends.
 While its obvious that Jiahan has feelings for Birdy, he isn’t confident enough to pursue them outright. Birdy is the more confident one in both their friendship and in his sexuality, not caring about how anyone perceives him and does what he wants regardless of the consequences. Jiahan is the one worried about societal stigma and goes along with things he doesn’t want to do. However after this encounter with the gay underclassman pictured above, Jiahan become more brave and honest about his feelings towards Birdy. Interestingly enough in the scene directly after this, Birdy begins to conceal his true feelings for Jiahan and pursue a straight relationship with Banban. He doesn’t do this hurt Jiahan, as he does reciprocate Jiahan’s feelings, but to discourage him from coming out and becoming a social pariah for being gay. Birdy himself doesn’t mind being an outcast, but he does not want to see the same thing happen to the one he loves. So instead of letting Jiahan do that, he tries to discourage Jiahan from ever pursuing him by getting a girlfriend and suggest Jiahan does the same. In the same day, both Jiahan and Birdy come to opposite realizations about their feelings for the other, thereby changing their dynamic for the course of the movie. Someone else has picked apart Birdy’s scene in their own post. If you haven’t read that analysis, please go read it, because its really good at explaining Birdy’s character since most of his story isn’t directly revealed to us. We must read inbetween the lines and piece it together, which can be confusing on a first watch.
Anyways, now we can focus on Jiahan. At this point in the movie, Jiahan is trying to understand why he’s upset that Birdy is showing interest in a girl in their band while dealing with his own internalized homophobia and denial over his sexuality. He then turns to the only out gay person he knows -- Xie Zhenhong, who he sees in the cafeteria with new bruises on his face. He looks at Jiahan with a smile. This makes me feel like Zhenhong probably picked up on Jiahan and Birdy’s feelings for each other since last year, when he saw them exit the same stall in the bathroom. Having been the Distinguished Out Person in a group before, I can definitely relate to the way Zhenhong reacts to Jiahan. It the typical “oh honey, you don’t realize it yet, but I know you’re gay” reaction. 
 Jiahan waits outside the cafeteria and calls out to out him from behind. At first Zhenhong ignores him as we can see that he smirks a bit when he first speaks. He definitely heard Jiahan but doesn’t answer him until he repeats himself a few times. Zhenhong purposely stops when the two are in front of the stained glass window, away from others. Jiahan’s word choice towards Zhenhong is also interesting as he addresses him as “學弟” which is a term for an underclassman. To my understanding, it’s not overly formal nor is it overly familiar, however it is the nicest way that anyone has addressed him all movie. Jiahan than asks him who gave him those bruises, showing concern for his well being. He then reveals why he stopped Zhenhong saying “Actually I want to ask you, when did you start liking boys?” This really seals the deal to Zhenhong that Jiahan is talking to him to try and sort out his own feelings towards Birdy. While his suggestion that Zhenhong perhaps “see a doctor” or “consider getting a girlfriend” read as a microaggression to most viewers, Zhenhong himself can tell that Jiahan is asking him this in good faith. And perhaps, this might be the most understanding anyone has been towards him since Birdy helped him out prior. Before he responds, he looks up at Jiahan and fixes his bangs. This all stumps Jiahan whose eyes dart around, speechless. Zhenhong then circles his arms around Jiahan’s neck, a very intimate gesture, and studies him for a moment. We cannot see Jiahan’s face at this moment but he does shuffle slightly, his body language nervous and confused, but not upset. After looking at him, Zhenhong then goes in closer, assumedly to kiss him. At this point, Jiahan physically stops him and grabs him by the throat. However, Jiahan’s face doesn’t seem to be angry, if anything, his face looks more scared and confused-- akin to a ‘what are you doing?’ moment.
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Initially Zhenhong’s choice to kiss Jiahan read very...strangely to me. Why would the screenwriter, as a gay man that grew up in the 80’s, choose to include this? What was there to gain? To me it seemed like it was reinforcing the stereotype of gay men being overly flirtacious and viewed as predators. Why show a nonconsentual attempted kiss at all? I thought about it a lot, both for this scene and the following one with the old man and later between Jiahan and Birdy because it seemed?? Odd to me?? Isn’t that a disservice in representing gay men? I don’t fully have the right answer but I feel like by writing the scene like this, it goes to demonstrate how Jiahan still isn’t fully comfortable with being gay. And also that lgbt people, especially teens, aren’t always going to be good rep. Liu Kuang-hui wasn’t writing the movie to be an perfect, morally uplifting, santized gay narritive. He was writing something that spoke to his real life experience as a gay man in 1980’s Taiwan. In real life, people do questionable things and good narratives are supposed to make you question characters and their actions and judge for yourself whether what they did was right or wrong. The narrative isn’t looking to condemn Xie Zhenhong for doing this. Xie Zhenhong is ultimately a victim of violent homophobia, that will not hide himself or his sexuality despite the violence he faces. He isn’t perfect, nor is Jiahan, nor is Birdy, nor is anyone in the film. 
Although now having rewatched this scene upwards of eight times in writing this, it feels like Zhenhong didn’t assume this action to be without consent. Of course, no words were explicitly exchanged about kissing, and I’m not trying to make the case that it’s okay to kiss someone without their consent, that’s harassment. However, Zhenhong did gave Jiahan time to express his discomfort before proceeding. Zhenhong first got close to Jiahan by brushing his bangs, Jiahan did not say anything or look visibly uncomfortable. He then put his arms around Jiahan’s neck, and stared at him for a good ten seconds. At this point, Jiahan had time to say he was uncomfortable. As we know it, consent does indeed entail a verbal, understood yes from both parties. However given the context, I can understand why Zhenhong thought that Jiahan was consenting at that moment. However the moment Jiahan revoked his consent Zhenhong stopped trying to kiss him. Zhenhong shouldn’t have gone in without getting verbal consent, and Jiahan could’ve done something other than grabbing him by the throat. They were both in the wrong. Violence shouldn’t have been the reaction, nor should’ve kissing someone without their verbal consent. The lines were very blurred, and proper communication could’ve resulted in a better interaction but like I mentioned above, I don’t think the writers wanted to portray the scene in that way. The intent was not to say that Zhenhong’s actions were romantic or something to emulate. It was very purposeful in showing to interplay of homophobia, gay desire, and religion.
The scene is set up like a religious confession. Zhenhong purposefully leads Jiahan to the stained glass, a metaphor for his religious guilt. He doesn’t look Zhenhong in the eyes, his voice is hushed, and body language nervous, and troubled-- it communicates to Zhenhong that he thinks he may be gay and wants either reassurance that he isn’t or acceptance that is. Regardless, it’s a very vulnerable and intimate moment. Jiahan is facing him like ‘hey, I know my friends were bullying you and I wanted to save you but was too much of a coward and almost took part in harming you. I’m sorry. I know you saw that me and Birdy were in the same stall together, and that you saw me just telling him not to talk to the girls, and neither of those are heterosexual things to do. Please, help me.’ He’s asking Zhenhong to pass judgement on him, is he gay or not? By virtue of even asking that question, they both know the answer -- Jiahan is in love with Birdy, but whether Jiahan can accept that or not is up to him. In a way, Zhenhong is testing Jiahan to see how honest he can be with himself. By approaching him like that, he’s testing to see whether Jiahan can accept being intimate with a man or not. It’s not a good or ethical test, but it sure is effective. Because in his head, Jiahan is coming to realize that he doesn’t mind a man being close to him in a romantic way. Although, he isn’t fully there yet. He still grabs Zhenhong. But as Zhenhong stares at him despite the hand around his throat, Jiahan really has to think about his actions. Is that what he really wants to do, or is that what he’s been taught to do? It illustrates his internalized homophobia perfectly. Jiahan is literally staring gay desire in the face, rejecting it, while in front of his religion. Zhenhong finally answers Jiahan that “he has always loved boys since he was little, it’s never changed.” Upon hearing that his grip loosens and he pulls away. And the fact that we can hear him well means that Jiahan was never choking him, his hand was there, but not gripping. Zhenhong pulls him in closer and tilts his head, and says “and it never will.”  Zhenhong’s words are very deliberate. It’s as if he anticipated this might happen and knew exactly what to say. He wants to carve it in Jiahan’s brain that no one chooses to be gay. They always are and no amount of denial, like the kind Jiahan is showing, will change that. He then finally lets go of Jiahan, who is speechless, he thanks him, and leaves. Jiahan, however, stays there for a second, processing everything that has happened, and breathes heavily before the scene cuts to later that day.
Finally, I would like to examine exactly what Zhenhong’s “thanks” even means. Why would Zhenhong be thanking Jiahan? On the surface, it lookslike Jiahan waited for this guy to finish eating, then asked him invasive questions about his sexuality and suggest he should get help and then almost choked him. This should count as a microagression at best and an attempted hate crime at worst. But, as I just dived into, this wasn’t a bad faith jeer by Jiahan in order to bully Zhenhong, this was a genuine cry for help made by a deeply confused teenager. I feel like the “thanks.” at the end of the scene was perhaps just as puzzling to me as when I thought about why the staff would have that scene play out like that in the first place? I think his thanks is conveying many things. Firstly, thanking him for not actually hurting him and allowing him to have a semi normal interaction with a student of the same gender. As far as we know, many,  MANY different students have tried to hurt him in the new semester alone. Hell, we literally do not even know his name as everyone refers to him by the q slur or some other derogatory term, which speaks a lot to how he is treated. He also may be saying thanks for actually asking him about his sexuality. While Jiahan still followed it up with a suggestion he see a doctor, he still genuinely wanted to know why rather fully assume he has something wrong with him. Also, I feel like he might be thanking Jiahan for being brave enough to actually confront his sexualtiy and ask Zhenhong for help in the first place. Zhenhong really seems to be alone as the only gay student at the school but now knowing that Jiahan is realizing thathe’s gay as well, might make him be hopeful that things may slowly begin to change. Sadly, this interaction is the last time we see Xie Zhenhong all film which sucks because I really liked him. And I feel like it would’ve been really nice to see him after the time skip or at least have Jiahan mention him because this moment was one of the things that really made Jiahan start to accept his sexuality. A cut scene with Father Oliver also contributed, but I really wish Xie Zhenhong got more narrative than being the only out student that was then violently bullied. But, I acknowledge that MANY scenes were cut from the film for length so I can’t complain to much.
Oh god, that was a lot to say about a scene that was literally a minute and thirty seconds long. In conclusion!! I just had a lot of things to say about this scene and the scenes surrounding it. I think Jiahan is just a very painfully relatable character for many LGBT viewers and he was incredibly relatable for me which is why I felt the need to spend my day off writing this as opposed to doing homework. This scene is incredibly rich on many levels and I really appreciate YNEH as a whole for not spoonfeeding the viewer information and letting us interpret and question the scenes on our own and come to our own conclusions about the characters and yea. There’s so much going on and a lot of nuance and idk how to properly convey a lot of my thoughts but I tried really hard bc i really do love this movie. I really was puzzled by this scene at first, but now having examined it, it is my favorite scene in the movie. If this scene was changed in any way to make it more palatable, it would’ve been nearly as impactful which was a hard decision to come to, but I stand by it. I don’t know if I feel the same about other scenes but I will be reviewing YNEH as a whole in a different post. I have much more to say but my thoughts on this scene were far too long to not make it a separate post of its own. In essence, YNEH is about growing up and accepting yourself in all ways. Not all of those things are pleasant but if you cannot accept those things about yourself, you’re doomed to be miserable until you can live life unburdened by your own and societies limitations. Goodnight, my fingers hurt.
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teamrocketmemes · 2 years
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KYO PLAYS THE SIMS 4
These are all taken from Nijisanji’s Kyo Kaneko’s Sims 4 stream where he created himself and the rest of ILUNA on the game and shenanigans insue. Alter where necessary.
“I don’t know if yall know but, listen, I’m tired as shit.”
“Why didn’t I just sleep for 2 hours??”
“My wallet is looking a little bit hurt right now.”
“I'll buy the magic one, then the other one, then the other one…”
“I used to be obsessed with this game.”
“This dude is a gigachad, this is no one in [group].”
“I’m trying to find like a good base… Person.”
“I hate all of these default faces.”
“The hair is gonna make or break simoleon me, okay?”
“We’re going to a fucking Hawaiian wedding. Let’s gooo!!!”
“This is not a real option.”
“Man, making people in the Sims is hard.”
“Maybe it’s the eyes…”
“I swear on everything this was easier.”
“It looks like a 40 year old cosplaying as a teen.”
“Maybe this is what we needed the whole time. This.”
“Well now I just look depressed.”
“I don’t care enough to make this shit look like– perfect.”
“It’s always the correct colors but in reverse.”
“I might just go with this and call it a day.”
“look, he’s trying his best, okay?”
“I’m trying to make myself look cute but it’s hard.”
“It would limit out gameplay experience for the sake of accuracy.”
“THEY GOT FURRIES IN THIS GAME???”
“Fuck accurately portraying me. What about who I am??”
“At this point, I’m so indecisive I don’t even know what I like.”
“There’s not a mood outfit. I’m depressed.”
“Don’t ho-ho me again, bitch.”
“I feel like, realistically, this is the closest in style to what I need.”
“The game cannot handle the lack of booba.”
“[name], they have your outfit in here. That’s crazy.”
“Where’s my plad pants at?”
“Every time I catch a W, I catch and L at the same time.”
“Like I said, speedrun.”
“If you sleep with a shirt on, that’s an L on your part.”
“Now that I got the basics, I’m speedrunning.”
“I feel like I’m kind of a goofball, you know?”
“Whoever wrote this is stereotyping like crazy.”
“I [blank] twice today, okay?? I deserve pizza.”
“I literally paid $20 for this pack so you could be an Enchantress.”
“No parasocial, baby.”
“First order of business: everyone gets pizza every day.”
“Every day is National Give [name] Love Day.”
“I have a thesis paper due in the morning.”
“He probably fell on the fucking toilet or something.”
“He’s fighting for the pizza right now.”
“You had me at garlic.”
“Gimme the tiddies I deserve, which is the biggest ones.”
“I’ll be lurking.”
“Making female Sims is just better.”
“We’re about to make you fine as fuck, bro.”
“You’re welcome. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
“You’re not paying me shit but if you do, you owe me money.”
“[name] feels like she sleeps with oversizes shirts.”
“You were hard doubting but look at me now.”
“The red has more personality.”
“I’m a fucking master Simologist.”
“I wasn’t taking a dump. I was getting food.”
“I’m so good at making female Sims, it hurts.”
“The hair is where we’re really gonna struggle a bit.”
“Hmmm… Thinking emoji.”
“If they have an eyepatch, I’m gonna lost my shit.”
“Please, por favor??”
“Pigtails are just cute, you know?”
“Yeah no, this is not gonna work.”
“Maximum poofy. Poorf 100.”
“She has these thick ass boots.”
“Bro, do these not show up??”
“Jewellry is like, not my thing.”
“I just feel like that’s the most [name] shit ever.”
“I say we get rid of the socks.”
“This looks like her. It’s very doll-like.”
“Oh wait, I need to do the personality stuff.”
“You’re not gonna give me a vocal sample??”
“I just feel like [name] doesn’t have lips.”
“Oh my god, I made Kendall Jenner.”
“C’mon chat, we’re better than this.”
“I wanna pick this just to piss her off.”
“Hmmm. Massive bow. Let me think.”
“You like the Elsa dress?? Is that what you’re trying to tell me??”
“The top is so hard to get.”
“She working at the local burger joint.”
“What if I just did this??”
“I don’t wanna give her grandma glasses. I think that’s disrespectful.”
“I’ll make you look as wack as I want. No fucks given.”
“I’m like generous as fuck today.”
“What the fuck is her aspiration—??”
“Honestly? Public enemy.”
“Out of pure spite, for the amount of shit he be talking, I’ll make him look like a fucking cat.”
“This moustache? Not cutting it.”
“You built like a camel, my man.”
“I think we have the same pants, like deadass.”
“What do you mean spread them out??”
“He does have rings, though…”
“You can get your horniness elsewhere.”
“I’m just trying to make the Sims accurate.”
“Sorry your dad looks like that.”
“That’s kinda swagalicious.”
“These are just so far off from what I need. It’s crazy.”
“This face is a little too gigachad.”
“We need to enhance the eye with makeup.”
“Holy shit, there’s some wild makeup in this.”
“Bro, he kinda look like Seraphine from League of Legends.”
“I might just make it without his coat, then.”
“He has plad pants, like the rest of us.”
“This is what [name]’s gonna wear doing sports.”
“I have some semblance of like, care for others.”
“Yeah [name]’s jealous. A little bit yandere, you know?”
“Hornless behavior.”
“Is it coping to say I’m more like a jokester?”
“When I roast people, it’s like for fun.”
“[name] in the front, she knows she’s the main character.”
“Ooooh we look swag in this one.”
“Did I buy pets on accident??”
“Can I go back so I can add a pet??”
“Is this the mystique-y world??”
“So magic realm or uni…”
“That’s part of the fun, why would you glitch money in??”
“Guys, we have no house.”
“The dumbasses stick together.”
“Oh shit, it’s mostly in the ocean.”
“We’re on a mermaid arc. Let’s get it.”
“We homeless. We fucking homeless.”
“Wait, how much money do we have?? Are we broke??”
“We might be a little poor for a while.”
“I don’t know, he’s like licking his toes or something.”
“Listen, it just needs to be liveable for now.”
“I don’t need much. I just need a shower that works.”
“Oh yeah, we need doors.”
“It’s not about the layout, it’s about family.”
“We need some kitchen materials.”
“Dying does not seem fun at the moment.”
“That is an interesting ass window.”
“That but less ugly.”
“That one’s cheap. Perfect.”
“I will put lights in a little bit.”
“Holy shit, that’s bright as fuck.”
“Bro, that’s so low to the ground.”
“You can woo-hoo in a bush???”
“Do we need a roof?”
“We got no money and I bought the bare necessities.”
“[name] has no skills.”
“I’m tired of these needy ass sims.”
“W [name], L everyone else.”
“Why is this just half in Spanish??”
“How am I playful for taking a fucking nap??”
“She’s just floating in the water like a crazy person.”
“Come socialize bro.”
“Why did you take a shit and fuck this place up??”
“[name] gets along with everyone, I’m telling you.”
“Bro, everyone hated it.”
”You still fixing the fucking toilet??”
“He still can’t fix the fucking toilet. I’m crying.”
“I think she just broke that shit.”
“Bro, repair the fucking toilet.”
“I’m crying. Everyone needs to pee.”
“Bro, why is this lady still here?”
“Right next to [name]’s sleeping body. That’s crazy.”
“I forgot I hate cooking.”
“I’m doing all the work in this house. Everyone else is fucking asleep.”
“Okay, we need to get employed and fast.”
“Us First Years, you know, we gotta put in all the work around here.”
“She does her science stuff.”
“You’re gonna join the entertainment industry as well.”
“Oh yeah [name]’s gonna be a criminal.”
“Can you make money doing that in this game??”
“Why is he sleeping in my bed??”
“Can you make money of singing??”
“Maybe singing isn’t for you right now…”
“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed, you need to sing.”
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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years
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ashes, ashes.
10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.
““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-
“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.
“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””
(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)
--------------
Case 1: the man in the alley.
The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.
As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 
His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.
If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.
Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.
...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.
It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.
“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.
Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.
“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 
“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”
What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.
“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.
“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.
“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”
Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.
“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”
The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”
Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”
Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.
He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.
Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.
“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”
Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?
But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.
His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.
As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.
Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.
Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.
In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.
“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”
Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.
Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 
“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.
The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.
“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-
“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.
“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”
"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 
Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."
"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.
"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.
"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 
His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.
"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"
Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 
"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.
"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 
That did make Remus feel better, actually. 
"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"
Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"
"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."
Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.
"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 
"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"
Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."
Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”
“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.
“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.
“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”
Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”
“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”
“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”
Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 
“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.
“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”
Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”
“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.
“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.
“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”
“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”
Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”
Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.
“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.
Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”
And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.
--------------
Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.
The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.
When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 
He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.
After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.
As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 
But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 
Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.
People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.
...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?
He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.
Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.
She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.
“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”
“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”
Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”
Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”
--
Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.
Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”
Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.
“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”
James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.
“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.
“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”
“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”
The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.
“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”
With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.
Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.
Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.
“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”
He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.
“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.
“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”
For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”
“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”
That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”
Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”
“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.
Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”
Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”
He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.
“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”
Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.
“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”
“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.
“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.
“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.
“You could cheat death, for starters.”
“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 
Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.
“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.
“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.
“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”
“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.
“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”
--------------
Case 3: the woman in the streets.
The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.
In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.
Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.
They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.
He didn’t deal with it well. 
The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 
He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.
Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 
“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.
With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.
“Oh…”
And then he turned on his heel and threw up.
Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?
He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.
“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,
“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”
Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.
“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.
“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.
“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”
“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”
“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”
“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”
“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”
Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”
“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”
“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 
“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”
Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”
“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”
--------------
Case 4: the bad doctor.
The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.
Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 
Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.
Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).
Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.
After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.
But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.
Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 
Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.
The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 
"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.
"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.
"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.
"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."
Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 
Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."
...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.
"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.
"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.
"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."
Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 
"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 
"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 
"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 
"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.
"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”
At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 
“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.
“REMUS!”
--------------
Case 4.5: the dead doctor.
The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.
Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.
Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 
After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.
After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.
As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 
--
The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.
After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”
Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.
“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”
“Really Remus? I just got ready.”
“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”
He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.
“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”
“Bye, ugly.”
“Later, Rat Bastard.”
“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 
It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.
Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.
“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”
“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”
He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”
Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.
“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”
“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.
“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”
Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”
Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”
The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 
"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"
The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 
"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."
"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.
Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 
"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"
"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"
Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."
"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 
"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-
"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 
Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-
Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 
"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."
If he didnt-
"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 
Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 
Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 
"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 
Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.
"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 
"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 
"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."
"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.
Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 
Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"
"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 
"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 
"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.
"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.
Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."
"Of course, pinky promise~."
"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."
--------------
Case 5: the one who tried to get away.
The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.
It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 
Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)
It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 
But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.
"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."
"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.
"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.
Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."
Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"
"...Huh?"
"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"
"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 
"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 
"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.
"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.
Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.
"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."
"Clearly…"
--
A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.
That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.
Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.
A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-
Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 
He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.
Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.
He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.
He'd just have to do something about this himself. 
--
“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”
“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”
“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.
“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.
“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.
--------------
Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.
And then shortly after; 
“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.
Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”
“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 
Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”
His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”
Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.
“Whoopsie daisy.”
He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.
“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.
“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”
As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.
--------------
Case 8: the innocent.
And then: 
Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.
He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.
Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”
Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”
“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”
Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 
”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.
”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”
“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”
“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.
“Exactly. The life.”
That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.
“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”
--------------
Case 11: the matchbox.
Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 
They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.
Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)
“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.
“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.
For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.
--------------
Case 13: the one with bad luck.
He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.
“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”
“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."
Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 
“Anyone nearby?” He checked.
“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 
“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.
Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”
“Nah, you should see the other guy.”
That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”
“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”
“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."
Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.
"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 
The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."
Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.
"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."
”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.
“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”
Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.
--------------
Case 0: the one who death followed.
It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.
In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).
All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.
And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 
(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)
-------------- 
Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx
Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin
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chickpeatalia · 3 years
Note
I heard "working class!Arthur" and I can't think of anything else yes please!!!
Anon, I know you didnt exactly ask for it, but now that you have put the words “working class!Arhur” into my ask box, you have practically opened pandoras box so I’m just gonna go ahead and talk about it anyway. *mwua*  First things first, I shall note that I am not in fact British, so I might not get a few things right. Second, what we’re gonna talk about today is a rather specific human AU that lives in my head.  Third, this ended up being....incredibly long, I’m sorry. The rest is under the cut!
So, why is working class Arthur splendid?
Obviously, there are many different version of how to do a human AU, and oftentimes fandom likes to go down the rich/royal/elite!Arthur route. Which, in fact, is super valid and oftentimes quite fun too. I like these versions too. However, I think oftentimes a working class background is favourable because 1) it makes more sense, to me, on a meta level  and 2) it has a certain charm to it.
Lets consider the meta level first: - despite stereotypes, Great Britain does not consist of aristocracy and royals alone. What are 600 arstocratic families to 60 million of the rest of the population? - the Industrial Revolution started in Great Britain - factory work, steel mills, textile and most prominently, coal mines in the North of England were all operated by the workers. I feel like in Britain, social classes matter way more than on continental Europe, and also to me personally the working class seemed like a particularly important one, historically speaking. Okay, enough history for now, so lets get into the human AU: - Arthur, who grows up in a large family with four brothers (Alasdair & Dylan who are older. And Sean & Peter who are younger) - his parents had Alasdair very early on and you know how it is. With a baby on the way, you got to make the best out of it and take the first stable job you get. (Which was in Glasgow at the time). - but unforntunately high unemployment rates hit the country, especially the working class (thanks Maggie T</3) and what to do if you lose your job and no new work is to be found? Well, you just go and look somewhere else. In the Kirklands’ case, that somewhere else is Cardiff, Wales where Dylan is born. - So they end up sort of moving quite a lot, practically in every part of the UK, in hopes of finding stable jobs for a bit. - Eventually they settle in a suburb of Manchester, England at long last.
- And life goes on
- They recycle so much clothes between the brothers. A good 40% if not more of Arthur’s clothes used to be either Alasdair’s or Dylan’s. - In turn, Sean and Peter also get Arthur’s old school uniforms. Theyre not particularly nice after all these years, but look, they have five kids. They simply don’t have the money for new ones. ( “Says much about the efficiency of a system when it forces you to wear school uniforms in order to avoid social stigmatisation and yet makes you buy the uniforms yourself, as if richer people couldn’t afford the better ones anyway.” Arthur would say darkly) - lots and lots of second hand shopping. (this is where Arthur got is first leather jacket and Doc Martens from, and yes, this is also when his punk phase has started) - thus his outfits tend to look quite ...interesting. A various mix of old jumpers from the 90s, Dylan’s old plaid shirts and some band t-shirt he got for £5. - one year, he and his brothers were looking for a gift for their mum’s birthday. Arthur didn’t have any cash anymore (yes, it was after he bought the Doc Martens, sacrifies had to be made), so he suggested he tried to bake her a cake. Much cheeper than any other gift. Obviously his brothers mocked him for it (until they actually tried the cake and found out that it actually tasted quite good). Since then Arthur took up baking here and there, and his brothers while not encouraging, do not mock him anymore. They do hope he makes the lemon cake again for Ma’s next birthday though
- SCHOOL ho boy... so the thing is, Arthur is rather clever.
- Academically, he was above average. Acing it in subjects like English and History, being quite good in French (no, he does not bring this fact up often...or...at all), and getting decently by in the rest. Except that one time in PE when he got rowdy with the other boys during a football match (no, not our boy’s brightest moment). - He is intelligent, he even understands subject that he doesn’t particular like, like chemistry. He is quick-witted and sharp tongued and has a natural talent for words and writing. Even rather sophisticated articles and topics do not resent a challenge for him. - Naturally, Arthur toys with the thought of going to university and immediately wants to slap himself for that ridiculous idea. - The thing is, nobody in his family has gone to university so far. Like, he has no, absolute no frame of reference what it entails. - Being from a working class family and then going to university is a scary thing, man. - also, being £30,000 in dept by age 18 is a terror of its own kind - Eventually, he contemplates applying maybe perhaps for the local university and that information seeps through to Alasdair who found it to be a rather ridiculous endeavour. - “Look, you’re shitting your pants about this application one way or another, so why not just go immediately for the top universities instead. If you get rejected, well, at least you got rejected by one of the top universities in the world. But if you get accepted....” “Aw, are you saying you think I could get accepted by one of the best universities in the world?” “I’m not saying anything, you wee little shit. Don’t put words in my mouth. But......being the overachieving know-it-all that you are, you might have a chance.” - For as long as he lives, Arthur’s never gonna admit it but this conversation might have really been the most meaningful thing Alasdair has ever said to him. - And yes, he does apply and yes he does get accepted.
FURTHER HEADCANONS:
- he toned it down by now but the punk never died in him. lots of LGBT+ pins on his jackets too. - that being said, he hates it when people think punk is an aesthetic rather than a political stance (”You cannot be bloody punk and right wing. You just cannot!”) - genuinely likes the taste of beer. Or it might be that it was the cheepest alcoholic beverage he could manage to buy. Situation unclear. - is so prone to get into bar fights oh dear lord when he says “fight me”, he genuinely is 100% down to throw hands even if you beat him bloody - obviously, always votes Labour - will call you a cunt if you’re a Tory - unrelated to anything, but I think he’d wear earrings regularly and they’d be cute - also, has a tendency to dye his hair in crazy colours when he is under pressure - one last thing: oftentimes, Arthur strikes people as incredibly cynic or gloomy or ‘overly engaged in politics’, but growing up the way he grew up, facing so many hardships through the years of which many were directly caused by careless conservative politics...its just hard not to be cynic. My final words here are: this is most definitely not what you were looking for when you sent that ask, anon, but I seriously needed to get this out of my system. If anyone wants to ever talk about my favourite boy Arthur, my ask box is always open.
Thanks for coming to my TED talk<3
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parva-noctua · 3 years
Text
30 Questions Tag
tagged by @anotherobsessedfangirl thx sweetie!
name/nickname: Since my first name's been on my blog for a while anyway, I might as well tell it: Alina. But most people here still know me as "parva (noctua)". This also brings me to my nickname, because "parva noctua" is Latin and means "the little owl". My favorite grandpa used to call me "owl" when I was little. That's one of my strongest memories of him. And my best friend still calls me "Kleines" sometimes. Best translation to English is "peewee", I guess, though "Kleines" isn't meant to be negative) How you call me is up to you. For me, every name's okay.
star sign: Taurus
height: 5'6" / 168 cm
birthday: May 15th
favorite bands: among many others Silbermond, Sunrise Ave, Radio Company, Queen, Måneskin (just to continue the new tradition :p)
time: started 2:40 pm. finished (with lot of breaks) 9:23 pm
favorite solo artists: That's even more difficult to answer^^", but definitely a lot of Hip Hop and Rap is involved (there is good stuff!) One of them is Curse, I still listen to a lot of his tracks. Maybe he is my all time favorite, even though I still love Everlast and Fiva a lot, too.🤔
song stuck in your head: Wanna be your slave by Måneskin (Well... xd)
last movie you watched: "Catching Fire"
Dream Trip: Road Trip to travel all across Germany and maybe some neighboring countries. But for this, I need to lose my fear about driving^^"
Last Show: "Grimm" on DVD
When I Created This Blog: This one must be three years old right now. There was another, I created... 7 or 6 years ago, when a friend showed Tumblr to me.
What I Post: Changes from time to time, a lot stuff's deleted, because I felt bad about Tumblr at the time and even considered to leave for good. But here we are today, still here, still posting "this or that." and weird rantings.
Last thing I googled: Bed frames, industrial style (comparing prices, looks and feautures) Due to some changes at home, my mom and I started painting and renovating some rooms.
Other Blogs: None
Do I get asks? Some of friends, but not many. But I love every ask and try to answer all of them. So if you wanna know something, just send me an ask (even if you didn't send one before 😊) It would make me very happy to interact more with all of you!
Why I Chose My URL: just go back to first question ;)
Following: 31 (fandoms, friends and art mostly)
Followers: Tumblr says 431 (varies from week to week) I guess, most of them are bots, because there are a lot of... x-rated pages in my notifications now and again. And most of my posts get 5-20 notes. Three years ago, there were a lot more - especially during the #ringsy or #toris "era" xd Sometimes I miss "good ol' times", but things change and what remains are some funny, some weird, some sad, some freaky and a lot of happy memories.
Average Hours Of Sleep: 5-6 during the past few months (rarely restful and refreshing) In the daytime, I felt sleepy and dumb - it's slowly getting better now. Lately I get up to 7 hours of (better) sleep.
Lucky Number: 5 due to my birth month and 9 (love the shape)
Instruments: This user is absolutely not musical, but loves to warble her favorite songs. I remember one day in improv theater (behind the mixing console): One of the younger groups performed to music and I was quietly humming/singing along to the song. The guy next to me (an intern, too) just said: "Just stop it already!" Me: "What's the matter? I know, I can't sing. I'm just one of those singing-in-the-shower people. It's just for fun." Him: "So what. You can't sing, so don't."
So if you're one of those crooked-voiced people like I am - shut the fuck up. Just kidding! Screw party poopers like.... let's call him Carl.
What Am I Wearing: Right now some blue long sleeve shirt and jeans. In general: mostly casual, spiced up with a lot of hoodies xd
Dream Job: I did a BA in Social work, focusing on Drama in Education/theatrical pedagogy . Loved improv theatre, but never had the guts to pick up where I left off^^"
Favorite Food: Nearly all kinds of soup, cheese and mixed up leftovers, tbh. There's nothing better than that.
Tea or Coffee: Tea lover, but addicted to morning coffee
Nationality: German.
Favorite Song: All time fav: "100 Jahre (years)" by Curse. Current: "City Grown Wollow" by Radio Company
Last Book I Read: 1. finished re-read: "Supernatural - Heart of the Dragon" and 2. nearly finished: "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes".
Top 3 Fictional Universes I Would Like To Live In:
1. "Grimm", actually. I like the idea of Grimm's (and other's) Fairy Stories being real in this kind of way. Wesen, creatures (apparently human) only visible for Grimms. Sure it's a potentially dangerous world to live in, but it's also truly fascinating and full of surprises. I mean, a vegetarian Blutbad (Bad Wolf) doing Pilates for a peaceful "let's not let this get out of hand, I just had the carpet cleaned" lifestyle. And I also like the idea, that there's more in the world than meets the eye.
2. An "The Three Investigators AU" with bit less of stereotypes, though. The german radio plays of "Die Drei ???" is kind of a cult for so many generations since 1979. For 42 years now there are the same three voice actors for Justus/Jupiter, Pete and Bob - and I guess, that's part of its success. Adults, teens and kids grew up and grew old with them, learning about friendship, courage and not giving up. Three friends, a salvage yard and cherry pie. Actually it's sort of a time capsule: Forever 18, forever holidays full of adventures: Solving riddles, having fun, catching "the bad ones". There's always a solution, always a story with kind of a happy ending. It's a safe space, a short peaceful time-out for me and so many others out there.
3. "Harry Potter Universe" because of similar reasons as in No. 1 (just don’t let talk about JKR here).
tagging everyone, who wants to 😊
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lesserpandeu · 4 years
Text
Software Instability | prologue
Tumblr media
fandom: NCT
genre: Sci-Fi/Detroit: Become Human AU!, android AU!, probably lots of angst + fluff in later chapters
pairing: Mark x Reader (probably some Donghyuck x Reader if you squint super hard, especially in later chapters)
words: 3,262
warnings: gun violence, death, cursing;
summary: The amount of deviant cases your department has been receiving is concerning to say the least. After pressuring the android manufacturing company, CyberLife, they send an android to assist your department in finding out what is causing the deviancy in so many androids lately. His name is Mark, and as soft as he seems on the outside, you can’t help but be utterly terrified by him. 
A/N: This story is based on the world of the video game “Detroit: Become Human”. Just replacing Connor (one of the main characters) with Mark and putting y/n in it. You don’t need to know anything about D:BH to read the story, as I explain everything the reader needs to know as the story progresses! While it doesn’t follow the plot word for word all the time, sometimes I need to look up the cutscenes and repeat them to help progress the plot (like the negotiation scene in this prologue). Warning: It might take me awhile to update, but it also it might not, lol. I’m awful about staying on top of fics. Enjoy!
prologue: “My name is Mark”
One more fucking deviant case and you’d lose your goddamn mind.
It was only a matter of time until the deviant jumped off the balcony with the little girl in his arms, sending them both to their dooms. It was a little more imperative for the girl, considering she was actually alive. The android was expendable, but given the fact that it was holding her hostage outside on the balcony, that was going to prove difficult.
Every SWAT officer that’s gone out to stop it was met with bullets aiming with perfect accuracy and an inability to get closer, risking the girl’s safety.
“One more team, just send one more, we’ll get him this time-” your colleague was suggesting as the both of you stood in the office of a once peaceful family home, before the android turned on them and killed them all, except for the little girl he was currently holding near the edge of the pent suite’s balcony.
“It didn’t work the first two times, it won’t work a third, Taeil. We wait for the negotiator to arrive to diffuse the situation-” Donghyuck, your other colleague cut Taeil off before he committed the same offense.
“What’s a fucking negotiator going to do?! That deviant was beyond the point of reason the minute it went nuts!”
“Both of you, shut up,” you groaned, holding your fingers to your temple. You were currently sitting in the office chair, trying to sooth yourself from one of the most stressful moments in your career, no doubt. “No one likes the situation right now, cause frankly, there’s currently a 5% chance that this kid is making it out without falling to her fucking death. If we go against orders and things turn as sour as we’re expecting it to, we’re in for a lot of shit from the head of department that ordered this new approach. We wait, and we obey orders.”
“Oh, nice, so we’re just going to sit and watch as a blue headed android just hops off the roof murdering another innocent human, further dispelling the faith the people have in their safety around androids, only further increasing the rate of android deviancy and cases we’re already overwhelmed with, yeah, you’re so right.”
Taeil had a reason to be stressed out about this. Androids had been implemented into society now for about 30 years. Nearly everyone had one, if they could afford it. They were perfect companions, workers, and entertainers. They came in anyway you could want them: tall, short, dark, light, young, and old. You could program them however you wanted. They could be funny (honestly, you never thought comedic androids were actually funny), kind, obedient, or even sarcastic.
It wasn’t until three months ago that a crime involving an android popped up in your department. An android turned on it’s human, stabbing her fifty times in the chest. It was so shocking at the time, which made it worse when just three more cases appeared in the next two weeks. Now you're on your seventh case, though there have been many more handled by other factions of the PD. One thing all of these cases clearly had in common: deviancy.
The only thing every single android was required to have in common was obedience. It was never allowed to go against its owner’s will. Technology isn’t supposed to disobey. Bad things happen when that occurs. And boy, were they happening. Like the bad thing happening right now.
“Could you- Would- Piss off,” you end up yelling, earning a flinch from the SWAT officer that walked by the open door. They were standing by as the final resort. 
“I just want this shit to be over, thank you very much,” Taeil defensively crossed his arms and leaned against the only wall not hidden by dressers with the family’s pictures. It was suffocating to sit in a home just so freshly destroyed.
“Well, it looks like it will be, cause guess who’s here?” Donghyuck mumbled.
You looked up from your shoes to see what he was talking about.
An android dressed in a stereotypical investigative uniform strode up to the door frame, stance practically perfect. No one needed the glowing serial number on the pocket of his jacket, the blue band wrapped around his arm, or the LED ring on the side of his temple to know that he was an android. He had black hair with bangs parting out, and high cheekbones. He looked young, he seemed to have been designed with a baby face in mind. If he were just a human, he’d probably be a teenager or a college student.
He smiled. It looked so realistic. Androids look just like people these days.
“Oh my god,” Donghyuck responded. The android looked puzzled, blinking a few times as his smile dissipated.
“I didn’t say anyth-”
“They sent a fucking android to talk us out of an hostage situation cause by an android?” Donghyuck exasperated.
“Okay, enough, we need to get that girl out,” Taeil said. “What are you doing?”
“Hello. My name is Mark. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife,” he introduces himself. His voice has an odd chirp to it, like he was programmed to come off as friendly as possible.
“I hate him already-”
“Donghyuck, stop it, we don’t have time.”
“You’re damn right we don’t,” Taeil had enough and walked out the room, squeezing by Mark standing in the doorway. “This way.”
Mark followed him, allowing you and Donghyuck to do the same. You walked into the living room where the sliding doors that led to the balcony were located. The bodies of the last SWAT team lay on the ground by the pool, one fallen inside of it. No one in the room was fazed by it.
“The situation,” Tail started. “The Acharya family is home, their daughter is coming home from school. At 5:24 pm, the father is murdered by the android on the couch with a handgun. The mother follows after coming out of her room to see what is going on. The daughter returns home at 5:40 pm.”
As Taeil explains, Mark begins looking around the apartment. Any other time an officer would ask what the hell he was doing, but since Taeil was talking and didn’t seem to care, you figured it was fine. He went into the kitchen, as it was combined with the living room in a big space. He notices the stove top, which obviously causes you to be aware of it. Water is boiling, who knows for how long at this point. He turns it off, setting it on one of the inactive burners. You raise an eyebrow but nearly instantly forget about it. 
“Then, she calls the police but is then taken hostage by the android. They are currently outside, on the edge of the roof ready to fall off any minute now. He has held her at knife point the whole time, making the sniper unable to shoot. Your job is to get him away from her, preferably without killing her.” A brief, but not long at all, silence looms before Mark says something.
“Do we know the android’s name?”
“...uh”
“What kind of question-” Donghyuck laughs, cutting himself off as if in frustration.
Mark doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m going to need more information to ensure the best approach. There is currently only a forty-eight percent chance of this mission being a success.”
“Yeah, and the longer we wait, the more quickly it becomes 0-”
“Five minutes,” you state. Sure, maybe Taeil should have the final say since he is your senior in both age and experience, but you don’t care right now. Taeil sends you a glare, momentarily staying silent before letting out one of the most stressed out sighs you’ve ever heard him breath.
“Five minutes, or I’m going out there myself.”
 Mark seems to briefly look at you and Taeil as to acknowledge your permission before further inspecting his surroundings. Taeil walks off, going to talk to a SWAT officer. Donghyuck is still outwardly paranoid, leaving the room as he tries to cool down.
You? You watch Mark. Someone’s got to make sure this beta testing droid doesn’t do stupid shit. Okay, maybe less so that and you were just curious.
He walks over to the body of the father (still on the ground, you tried to ignore it the best you could), and takes the holographic tablet out of his hands. He unlocks it somehow, looking through it. Soon he puts it down and goes off somewhere. You follow him, he doesn’t seem to pay you any attention, though.
He, interestingly enough, goes into the girl’s bedroom, indicated by the giant teddy bear residing in it. He looks around, noticing a few things. Frankly, you have no clue what he was doing. But it was too much of a bother to prod him for answers. 
He picks up a different tablet this time, unlocking it. Audio playback begins, drawing your attention. You then notice that it’s actually a video playing. You can see it from around Mark’s torso, given the angle created by standing in the doorway of the bedroom. What on earth was he doing?
“This is Jaemin!” the girl’s voice declares. The video shows her face, that then pans out to show her arm around an android. The blue-haired one you were dealing with at this very moment. But his hair was brown in the photo. Not strange, given most androids had automatic hair color changing options. “The coolest android in the world! Say hi, Jaemin!”
“Hello,” he smiles widely, waving at the camera. They both look so happy. While the video quality is significantly good, the slight distortion of the medium causes ‘Jaemin’ to look practically human, if it weren’t for the commercial android uniform. It was illegal for an android not to wear a uniform identifying that they were digital animals.
Mark puts down the tablet, ending the video playback and continuing his short investigation. He proceeded to the next room, doing just about the same thing there that he did in the last one. He kept this up until Taeil finally yelled out that the five minutes were up.
You followed Mark until you were just in front of the sliding doors, where Mark was about to walk through to diffuse the situation.
“He’s heading out now,” Taeil spoke into his receiver. With that, he opened the door. A burst of wind came through when the door opened, likely from the helicopters that had been circling around now for over an hour.
“This is going to go terribly,” Donghyuck spoke calmly, finally.
“Have a little faith, will you?” You shoved him with your shoulder, arms crossed.
“Just because you think he’s cute doesn’t mean you should have any faith, (y/n).” You hit him on the side of the head. “Oww.”
“I don’t think he’s-”
“The two of you need to shut up, we can’t hear what’s going on.”
The minute Mark stepped out, a gunshot rang. Donghyuck instinctively grabbed you and pulled you down, pulling the both of you away from the door.
“STAY BACK!” you heard the android yell out. You recovered your wits quickly, trying to look at Mark. A new blue blood stain is on the floor right outside the door, coming from Mark. You naturally looked to see if Mark is okay, even if it logically wouldn’t make sense for him to be in pain. He is looking down at the fresh wound on his chest, without any hint of pain in his face. It gave you chills. Androids didn’t feel pain, and as long as they could function with all their parts working, they could take anything.
“Holy shit,” you heard Donghyuck whisper.
“MOVE ANY CLOSER AND I’LL JUMP!” Jaemin yelled, holding the girl with his other arm. She screamed, begging for her life. It’s horrifying to see.
“Get into position, go, go, go!” Taeil speaks hurriedly into his receiver, likely speaking to the sniper squad. The SWAT team that stands by lines up behind the door, ready to burst out at any moment. The situation is at its highest level of intensity that it’s been tonight. 
This is it.
“Hi, Jaemin!” Mark yelled over the noise. So he proves he knows the android’s name, you think. So what? “My name is Mark!”
“How do you know my name?!” Jaemin questioned, the gun still pointed towards Mark, and frankly the rest of you as well.
“I know a lot of things about you,” Mark continued yelling over the helicopters outside. “I’ve come to get you out of this!”
A second later, a helicopter swung around too close to the balcony, producing an even higher gust of wind and blowing the lawn furniture off the ground. It doesn’t hit anyone, but it definitely irritated a certain deviant.
“I know you’re angry, Jaemin,” Mark spoke again. Yeah, why the fuck was he so pissed? You thought to yourself. 
“But you need to trust me, and let me help yo-”
“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP! NOBODY CAN HELP ME, ALL I WANT IS FOR ALL THIS TO STOP I-... I JUST WANT ALL THIS TO STOP!” He pauses a moment before becoming aggressive again.
“Are you armed?!” he asked.
“I have a gun,” Mark responded. He slowly reached behind him, pulling a handgun out before tossing it aside. You’re deadly silent until Donghyuck impatiently interrupted your focus.
“Is he fucking crazy?”
“He’s doing great, now shut the fuck up,” Taeil whispered angrily in his and your direction.
“There,” Mark said gently, despite keeping his voice loud and clear. “No more gun.” Another short silence settled before he kept slowly approaching the deviant, or Jaemin as you guess his name was.
“They were going to replace you,” he continued talking. “That’s what happened, right?”
“... I thought I was part of the family,” the deviant pathetically confessed. “I thought I mattered… But I was just their toy! Something to throw away, when you’re done with.”
“I know you and Kiara were very close,” Mark sympathised. Or at least he appeared to. Kiara? That must be the girl’s name, you reasoned. Did he find that out when he was looking through stuff? “You think she betrayed you, but she’s done nothing wrong-”
“SHE LIED TO ME!” the deviant cried. Mark stopped, doing something unexpectedly. He looked away from the hostage and the deviant, to one of the officers on the ground. He leaned down, observing before speaking out again.
“He’s losing blood. We need to get him to a hospital or he’s going to die,” he said. The action was very weird, in your opinion. But maybe it’s part of his tactic. You guessed that’s what Donghyuck also thought because he wasn’t saying anything.
“All humans die eventually,” the deviant said coldly. It nearly gives you a shiver. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”
Mark seems to ignore him, starting to turn the officer on his back and do something. Another shot rang, nearly hitting Mark and the officer.
“Don’t touch him!” the deviant yelled. “Touch him and I’ll kill you!”
“You can’t kill me,” Mark stated. “I’m not alive.” He continues whatever he’s doing, seeming to forget about the mission for a moment.
“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-” Donghyuck starts whispering. You covered his mouth with your hand, trying to shut him up. How the hell did they let such a hot-headed person get on the force?
Mark finishes what he’s doing, which you guess was to try to stop the bleeding. He stood up, a tie now gone from his uniform. He continues to approach slowly.
“It’s not your fault. These emotions you are feeling are just errors in your software.”
“No… It’s not my fault. I never wanted this. I-” Jaemin goes limp for a moment, hand with the gun falling to his side. “I love them. You know?... But I was nothing to them,” he picks up his gun again. “Just a slave to be ordered around. AUGHH-” he suddenly bursts. “I CAN’T STAND THAT NOISE ANYMORE!” The helicopters. Obviously. They’ve been around for hours. “Tell them to get out of here!”
Taeil spoke something into his receiver in order to do so, but you are hardly listening anymore. Mark is so close. Soon the helicopters left and the negotiation continued.
“There,” Mark assured. “I did what you wanted.” Mark is practically standing in front of him at this point. Jaemin seems hesitant and does not know what to do.
“I-” he stuttered. “I want everyone to leave! A-And I want a car. When I’m outside the city I’ll let her go.”
“That’s impossible, Jaemin. Let the girl go, and I promise you you won’t be hurt.”
“... I don’t want to die…” Jaemin began to cry, his voice becoming softer.
“You’re not going to die,” Mark assured. “We’re just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you.” Mark stops before uttering his next phrase with utter seriousness. “You have my word.”
Everyone held their breath. The silence is long and infuriating. You felt Donghyuck radiate heat from your side. You can only imagine you weren’t far from doing the same thing.
“... okay,” Jaemin was still crying. “I trust you.” He slowly let the girl down, still holding his gun but not pointing it at anyone. She shook, running only a few feet away from the edge before collapsing onto the ground. There was another moment where Mark and Jaemin looked at eachother. Unfortunately, everyone on your side, including Mark, knew what was about to happen.
A louder shot rang out from one of the snipers, and Kiara screamed. A large gaping hole appeared in Jaemin’s side, the force of the shot causing him to stumble around. Not a second later, another shot went off, right into his chest this time. It’s followed by a third. Jaemin wavers, falling to his knees. With three different shimmering blue gashes across his body, he struggles before looking back up into Mark’s eyes.
“You lied to me, Mark.” He tries to say it once more, before his voice fails and he shuts down.
You don’t move and neither does Donghyuck. You can’t believe what just happened. That had to be the most intense moment of your career and you hadn’t even started. Donghyuck was probably on the same boat. Taeil was the first one to move, coming onto the balcony and walking past Mark. Mark just turned away and walked back into the flat. 
You see his face, completely and utterly stoic. Even Taeil looked back, though his face doesn’t show it you know he’s as stunned as the rest of you that just saw everything that took place. And how this android that just appeared so empathetic, compassionate, and kind enough to save an officer’s life just walked away like it was another task completed. It reminded all of you that this wasn’t a human. It was just an android.
If you couldn’t be more awe-stricken and terrified, Mark’s eyes flicker to yours so fast you hardly know if it was just your imagination. But that is all he does as he leaves just as casually as he entered.
“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck can’t bring himself to get up, now resorting to sitting on the floor. “I really don’t like him now.”
For once, you would have to throw the towel in. Mark was utterly terrifying.
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ratingtheframe · 4 years
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Everything Wrong With… Ep 2 - The Devil Wears Prada
Welcome back to Everything Wrong With...the series where dive head first into some of the seemingly okay-ish films and analyse why in fact they do more harm than good in providing us with satiable entertainment. Follow me on instagram @ratingtheframe for more movie related content and without further ado, let's get into this chick flick and see how far we’ve come since 2006.
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If you aren’t aware, The Devil Wears Prada is a 2006 “chick flick” originally written as a book by Lauren Weisenburger. I remember seeing The Devil Wears Prada as one of those grown up lady films, for mature women on tampon adverts who had wine on Thursday evenings from M&S and wore heels practically everywhere. My perception of this film and the audience it caters towards has changed dramatically after watching it and it kills me inside to imagine the popularity and praise such a film got back in 2006, an extremely harsh time for women and the perception of beauty standards. 
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The world was still getting into the internet, magazines and runways were adjusting to the 2000s and the way that women were viewed in the media was a lot more damaging than today. Former supermodels such as Kate Moss and Cara Delevingne have since come out and talked about their experiences in the modelling industry and how it creates unhealthy stereotypes for women and young girls to abide by. The ‘size 0’ and ‘heroin chic look’ has since been banished from the modelling industry, two expectations that were pretty popular in the late and early 2000s for models. We are witnessing a revolution for the modelling industry as they (very) slowly but surely are beginning to introduce more plus sized, diverse and unfiltered faces for their campaigns. We can breathe easier knowing that the only way is forward for the fashion industry and that very little people will stand for the mid 2000s ideologies that were pumped out to the entire world.
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Back to 2006 and one of the year’s most popular films with female audiences; The Devil Wears Prada, starring the likes of Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt. The film follows Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) , a wannabe journalist newly welcomed into New York City and is currently on the hunt for her career. She manages to land a job at Runway Magazine, a large, corporate editorial magazine for women’s fashion run by the one and only Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), a devious, beautiful and highly successful media personality and editor.
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So far so good as we have two tangible and likeable female leads. The opening sequence (one of the most important in any film) had me eye rolling a touch in the way it depicted women of the 2000s and seemingly created the idea that there are two sides to women. 
The five or so minute montage consisted of the various women who are models at Runway, getting ready for their long day of work, right from being undressed to fully made up. This was supposed to be a contrast to how our lead Andy gets ready, barely throwing on any makeup and throwing on whatever she wants whilst heading out the door. When you put the way women choose to be perceived in the world at an opposition, you create this divide between women and further place their worth on how they choose to look. The stereotype of a ‘pick me girl’ arises from this opposition, a girl who actively shames other women for choosing to be more openly feminine in their appearance and actions. The intelligence and respect of women should not be based on how they look when they show up, rather how they BEHAVE when they show up. I just thought this montage was a little unnecessary and if anything, introduced us into a misogynistic world of 2006 really well. One point for accuracy, no points for progression. Everyone gets dressed in the morning and (often) everyone wears underwear, showing this activity on screen didn’t really add much to the film besides the pressures of women to look a certain way. 
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Once Andy arrives at the company, she is rudely introduced by Emily (Emily Blunt) Miranda’s current right hand. Now the entire character of Emily is again, another concept to this film that is left better in the 2000s; a mean girl and a VERY mean one at that. This world is already a patriarchal mess for women like Andy and Emily and having women join the bandwagon in showing an oppressive side to those who don’t conform to the female societal norms is non progressive. It was almost as if Emily was an investor into the patriarchy by behaving abhorrently towards her from the way she dressed as opposed to her actual character and qualifications. Please, let's not have women against women based on their desirability in the eyes of the male gaze. Emily has already become a clear victim to her own policies, as her lack of eating is laid bare to us as an entertaining gimmick as opposed to a cause of concern. Last time I checked making fun of eating disorders wasn’t chic. 
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Now the argument whether Miranda Priestly is also an investor in the patriarchy is a little clouded. Through her mean spirit and harsh words towards Andy and her appearance, she comes across as someone who is doing more harm than good by joining the patriarchal view of women in the 2000s. I found myself having to bite my tongue a little instead of calling her bitch because that would be letting my internalized misogyny get the best of me. 
Even though Miranda is tough talking and spiteful, I really can’t blame her for it as a character. She is one of the strongest female characters I’ve come across on screen for both her strengths and flaws. Had such a character been placed in a Roman Army or Italian Mob, my views of her would have stayed the same. She is a strong woman with enough versatility and strength to face any situation. The way she asserts her authority in a funny and patronizing way is hard not to fall in love with and any woman who asserts their authority and relishes in their own power is already technically against the patriarchy. Her industry may be patriarchal, however her spirit is not and the things she does in order to keep her status is admirable. I found myself comparing her to the way a man maneuvers the world (again, internalised misogyny, working on it) which in some parts is the reason there should be more Miranda Priestly's in films. Instead of comparing strong women to men, with more strong female leads we’ll start comparing these women to other women. 
Thank god for the zilch, overly graphic sex scenes in this film (maybe cuz the screenplay was written by a woman, but who knows-), however their is one character I’d like to address that rubbed me the wrong way and spoke for a big hole in the modelling/fashion industry that still exists today. Christian Thompson (Simon Baker) is this handsome, 40 summit journalist who meets Andy at a social event for a fashion designer. I admit he was charming in his demeanour but also overtly creepy at points. Andy and Christian bump into each other in Paris where he leads her down a street (his hand on THAT part of the elbow) and kisses Andy without consent, knowing she has a boyfriend. “Oh, it's just a movie” you’re probably thinking, but yet I couldn’t help but cringe at such a thing. Movies are a reflection of our society after all. He kisses her several more times until Andy gives in. If we’re trying to get films to reach audiences and affect them in some way, encouraging consent should be one of those things. Depicting such a madness on screen makes my rolls right to the back of my head and speaks for the entire society behind the modelling and fashion industry; a society run by men who can do what they like with or without consent. Though the wellbeing of Andy wasn’t in imminent danger, I felt Christian Thompson as a character to be a representation of those in the fashion industry who take advantage of women because of their status and so called connections. No more of this please!
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Andy has a transformation a little later into the film, a concept that we thought had been left in the patriarchy trash can, but quickly emerged in Debby Ryan’s��Insatiable (2018). Lasting only 2 seasons from 2018-19, the Netflix series followed Patty Bladell who gets afforded niceties and respect after she loses weight and becomes a “hot girl”. The show was created by Lauren Guissis based on an article about a (male) Pageant Guru who tells women how they can become pageant queens for a small fee...EW. The fact that such a show got picked up in a day and age that was beginning to open up to body positivity and more inclusivity in the media, the show was insensitive to its current surroundings. 
This same “ugly duckling” transformation isn’t something new or old apparently, with the one in The Devil Wears Prada being one of the least progressive moments of the film. Now that Andy looked like she could work at Runway, somehow she was working a lot better at Runway and was being afforded privileges she didn’t get before her new haircut. Is this the message we want to send out to the world anymore? That in order to get a one up in life, all you need is new clothes and better make up skills? Of course, glo ups can be fun but the purest, healthiest form of a glow up comes from within.
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A tiring cliché that “beauty comes from within” but one that makes a lot of sense and something I experienced in my mid teens. Having never experienced male validity or the feeling of desirability, once I began to believe I was beautiful on the outside, others began to notice, because they could read the confidence and self worth I had from my outward energy. An energy that can’t be felt beyond a face tuned Instagram picture. Beauty can be an energy as well as a look and had Andy embraced this more and rejected the passing comments people made at her, it would have taught us that one doesn’t have to conform in order to be respected. On the other hand, I don’t want to shame nor blame her as conforming to societal standards as for most women ,it’s an act of survival, to secure their places in certain spaces, with Andy being no expectation. A sad reality that a woman may have to wear makeup in order to stay in people’s good books, but a choice that should be discussed as opposed to shamed. 
I truly could go on and on about the harmful stereotypes and implications of The Devil Wears Prada and it's sad, yet true similarities to the real fashion industry of today and the mid 2000s. It was and still is cut throat, with many models developing eating disorders, low self esteem issues and even substance abuse due to the mounting pressures of trying to reach perfection. A perfection that doesn’t exist seeing as the fashion and modelling industry alters their version of perfection every single day. I’m glad that by the end of the film Andy ditched Runway in favour of living a more healthy and truthful lifestyle, one that wasn’t swapped in ridiculous pressures and the threat to conform or else leave. Which she did in the end. Miranda isn’t a devil, but a force to be reckoned with in a world that is ready to make her feel lesser than herself because of her gender. I hope to never see such a film like The Devil Wears Prada, ever again, in a world that no longer needs this sort of film to represent the strengths of women. It's best left in 2006 and hopefully you’ve learnt something you’ve never thought about from this in depth analysis. 
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cmzucchero · 4 years
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i have no ‘sick days’
summary: it’s flu season, and the bau has a sick garcia on their hands
requested: yup! :) (requests are still open!!)
warnings: normal criminal minds stuff
———————————————————————
“Good morning, all of my wonderful-“
Garcia’s welcoming was interrupted by her loud sneeze, causing Spencer to scoot a bit closer to Morgan and away from Garcia.
Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all said “bless you” in unison without looking up from their files.
“Excuse me, thank you- wonderful crime fighters. We have a new case- someone horrible is hitting Atlanta Georgia.”
“Why are they calling us? This looks like any usual gang kill.” Derek pointed out.
“Because...” Garcia fidgeted with the remote and pulled up a set of photos the city’s M.E. had taken. “All of the victims have had an itsy bitsy little number on their arm. The first time the M.E. noticed it, the number was already at 8...now it’s at 11. She located most of the other victims.”
“What on earth would cause someone to murder 11 kids?” Emily asked with a look dusted with disgust.
“Why did it take so long for the police to contact us?” Derek asked
“Well, one police captain thought they were all kids from the same gang- which they are- but after poking around the other captain noticed not everyone had a number...only the victims. I do want to wa-war-“ another sneeze came from Garcia making everyone jump, and Spencer inching even closer to Morgan.
“Garcia, are you feeling okay?” JJ asked, worry starting to fill everyone’s faces.
“-warn you that the two captains are butting heads. Yes I’m fine, I must have allergies or something, I’ll go take some allegra.”
After some more questions and statements, hotch told everyone they’ll be leaving in 30 minutes.
Derek and JJ followed Garcia to her ‘bat cave’ after grabbing their go bags.
“Garcia, are you sure it’s allergies, nothing is in season.” JJ asked
“Yeah, it’s probably dust.” Garcia said, taking her seat in her ‘throne of all knowledge’.
“Baby girl, they clean and dust this place every night.”
“Actually, our janitors come in about every week. There are seven floors, so they do a floor every night.” Spencer chimed in from the door, not daring to come in any closer.
“Yes, exactly, allergies! Thank you boy wonder.”
“But, with that being said, this year the flu has a sudden spike. People are twice as likely to get it. Because of the lack of cleaning, anyone who has it can spread it to an entire floor.”
Everyone in the room slowly started getting farther apart from each other.
“But I don’t get sick.” Garcia said defensively.
“Actually-“
“Save it boy wonder. I break statistics. I haven’t gotten sick in 15 years. Strep was the last thing I got. Damn you Terry.” Garcia said the last part more towards herself but everyone shared glances and raised eyebrows in response.
“Garcia I think you should probably still sit at home.” JJ offered
“If i’m infected I won’t infect anyone else, I’m in my own bubble.”
Spencer was about to respond with another technicality, but Hotch interrupted his thought stating the plane was ready.
After the team landed and everyone got settled into their new office accommodations, Emily called Garcia for any new background information on their victims.
“Hey Garcia,” JJ started.
“Hello my lovely lady and gents, I assume you’re calling for some background info on our victims.”
“You read our mind” Emily said smiling, looking over the file once again.
“Aw are you still surprised by that, darling?” Garcia quipped. “Well their backgrounds are all tragically similar. They all have absent parents, all failing or dropped out of school, most of them have criminal records- theft, fights, vandalism- all that. It’s the make-up of any stereotypical gang member.” After Garcia said all of this, she muted herself before letting out a series of coughs. She knew if Hotch suspected her of being sick, him and all of the other members would insist on her going home. 
“Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch answered stone faced. 
Garcia went to unmute her mic when she noticed the red light wasn’t on. ‘shi-’ 
“You’re welcome, sir. Call me if you’ve got any more questions!” Garcia quickly hung up, hoping, miraculously, they did not hear her coughs. That hope was quickly disappearing when a string of knocks interrupted the silence of her dark room. 
She stumbled up from her chair and made her way to the door, swinging it open. Anderson stood there smiling.
She let out a huff, and turned her back. He followed her in and shut the door behind him. 
“This is not necessary, I’m not sick.” Garcia said, still not turning around.
“My orders come from Agent Hotchner, I’m sorry Garcia, but he insisted.” 
Penelope let out another huff and started looking around the room for all of her belongings she will need for the time out. 
“Fine, but you tell agent hotchner that I will still be assigned to this case. I can do every bit of it from my humble abode as I can here.” Garcia said with a persistent and annoyed tone. 
Anderson put his hands up, and stepped aside so Penelope could walk by. 
After Anderson escorted Penelope into her apartment, he left her feeling annoyed, although, deep down, she felt very warm and cheerful, knowing how much her team cared for her. 
After setting up her makeshift computer station, she went to the kitchen.
“Hmm... well Penelope, if you are sick, I guess you need some food, don’t you?” Garcia said to herself. 
“Okay, but I’m not really hungry...” Garcia stood in front of the open fridge, contemplating her options. 
Sergio came up and rubbed up against her legs, hoping to get a special treat he knew garcia kept in the fridge- but to no avail.
Garcia shut the door and made her way back to her living room, where she will be conducting her magic. 
Hours went by of Garcia looking at the victims, their families and friends, and records of the gang they were a part of. Finally, her phone rang.
“Oh, I thought you guys forgot about me!” Garcia said exasperated.
“Who could ever forget you, baby girl?” Derek quipped. 
Garcia let out a soft chuckle, focusing on the topic again when she heard Reid start talking.
“Do you have any information on the gang leader’s right-hand man, Emmett Mundane?”
“Yes, I do. I did some research while waiting in my jail cell.”
Rossi’s voice suddenly happened into the call. 
“I hardly think your apartment would be as bland as a jail cell.” 
“You would be correct; however, that does not mean I can’t get claustrophobic.”
“Garcia, you work in a dark room for 40 plus hours a week.” Emily said, leaning towards the phone. 
“It’s different when you’re forced into isolation, Em. I just sent all of the info on Mundane. Does he look good for it?”
“We think so- Thank you Garcia.” derek ended
There was some more downtime, now being spent watching doctor who and supergirl reruns. 
Garcia decided she should probably check her temperature just in case, since she was starting to heat up.
“jeez, 101!” Garcia started to feel a bit guilty going to work with a fever, possibly infecting others. She started cleaning up her small apartment, knowing she will not be feeling up to doing much of anything in the following days. After she finished sweeping, she made herself a cup of water and a smoothie filled with super fruits and kale, then, once again sitting down to watch her tv shows.
The team called Garcia when they got onto the plane. It turns out that Emmett was the unsub. He started picking off all of the kids that he thought could threaten his attention from the gang leader. The numbers turned out to be how he thought the were kids ranked, in his eyes. 
After some time and a quick nap later, Garcia heard a knock coming from her door. She checked the peep-hole and saw the morphed and funny-looking versions of her team. She unlocked the door and slowly started to open it.
The team was welcomed in by Garcia covering the bottom half of her face in her shirt she pulled up in hopes to block any virus from coming out. They filed in, each holding something to help Garcia get up to her usual perky self. JJ brought some brownies, Emily brought wine, Rossi brought a pasta dish that supposedly cured his grandmother’s cancer, Hotch brought soup, Spencer brought some health juice that was jammed packed with carefully chosen healing super fruits and ingredients, and Derek brought a huge stuffed animal and a peach smoothie. 
Garcia’s heart swelled and her eyes started to swell up with tears. She met the faces of her team, all looking at her with sympathy and wishing they had their Garcia back. Not a second went by before Garcia’s eyes grew and she started ushering her friends out of her “infected apartement”. She thanked all of them, sincerely and shut the door. 
She walked to the kitchen where everything was left, cupping her hands over her heart. 
‘I really do have the best people, don’t I’ she thought to herself before digging into all of her goodies.
AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this! To anon, I really hope I fulfilled the request! It was so much fun to write! I just got my old laptop to start working again so I can write more often, so keep sending those requests!! Thank you for reading! Love you guys!! <3
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josietakesnash · 4 years
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The How of HAPPINESS
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 Going into my Positive Psychology course, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be hella hippie-dippy? Or perhaps too general? Would it stereotype and stigmatize mental health? Drill in the notion that, “if only you were happier, your brain wouldn’t have too much of the wrong chemicals and not enough of the good.” 
  Well, y’all. Let me tell you about my best friend, The How of Happiness, a book written by Sonja Lyubomirsky. (Don’t ask me to pronounce her name). Sonja, like me, is Russian. I guess that’s why her background initially surprised me. Positive psych? A Russian? We’re strong like bull. 
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And by strong like bull, I mean crying in the club, (the club being your apartment), with a bottle of wine and tear stained cheeks, blasting Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift. 
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  I digress. 
 Sonja is strong because she knows herself. With the help of fellow colleagues, Sonja did years worth of research on the precise amount of happiness within  our control. 40%! Okay, at first-- I admit, I was a little underwhelmed. 40-freakin’ percent? That’s it?! But in time, I realized the significance of that number. It isn’t too big, it isn’t too small, it’s realistic. 
   I hate to bring genetics into this, as I’m not a huge fan of mine myself. However, 50% of our genetics account for whether you’re destined to be a sad boi or a happy boi... or girl, or they/them. And I know that sounds scary. It is. But it’s kind of comforting as well. Look at it this way, 50% leaves an ocean of room to improve. And though we can’t change our baseline mood, we can be aware of it and actively want to work on boosting our levels for longer periods of time. 
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  The How of Happiness focuses on the power of resilient people vs. well, grumpy basket-cases. I think we can all agree that there are days where we’re one or the other. Sonja highlights the notion that happiness is an everyday seed that needs daily nurturing, like a baby, or a tamagotchi. 
  Speaking of nurturing, let’s talk about twins for a second. They freak me the hell out, 
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but I’m grateful for their bizarre genes. Why? Well. Identical twins, in particular, share similar happiness levels which gives scientists that little sprinkle to figure the rest of us out. Take James and... James... for instance. 
   James and James, identical twins separated at birth, hadn’t seen each other until they were thirty-nine years old. I’m sure their introduction went something like, “Hey man, I’m James.” *Insert confused stare*, “No, I’m James.” Anyways, both guys weighed the same, were the same height, had each smoked the same type of cigarettes, drank the same type of beer,  shared the same fingernail biting habit, and-- hold onto your hats for this one, both married women named Linda, divorced, and REMARRIED WOMEN NAMED BETTY. Excuse me, what. WHAT. 
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    Let’s get sad and science-y for a second. 5-HTTLPR, a gene associated with depression, comes in two forms. The short and the long. It shocked me to learn that the short allele is actually worse, (you can’t stop your depressive symptoms because of a chemical imbalance)... ME. Sigh. People who don’t have this are more likely to handle abrupt changes, trauma, etc. easier. What’s fascinating to me about 5-HTTLPR is that it only expresses itself in the right environments. 
  Now, let’s discuss a few ways to be “happier.” Yes, counting your blessings and being overly grateful is helpful to some. To others, it’s kind of a slap in the face. But here’s the facts: happier people are more likable, they’re successful, they’re resilient, they’re healthier, they live longer. What’s crazier? If you want to be thinner, or be a better friend, daughter, etc., you won’t be contented. Start from the ground up. Recognize what’s hurting you and why, make small steps to fix it. Find your strengths, focus on them. Be at peace with where you are now. Forgive yourself, forgive others. Set goals daily. Take action! Love fiercely, without apology. 
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 And overall, remember that you’re not alone in this. Just because you were born with a depression gene doesn’t mean you can’t be genuinely happy. What hurt you doesn’t have to define you. It can shape you, sure. But don’t give it vacancy in your soul if it doesn’t want to pay rent, you know what I mean? 
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subbyboymax · 4 years
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I want to ask you all of them 🙈🙈
So why won’t you ask all of them? Huh anon?
Jk I love you whoever you are. As requested:
1. Zodiac sign 
Taurus. I don’t really pay much attention to zodiac stuff but I’ve heard from friends that I fit the stereotypes somewhat.
2. Sexual orientation 
This is hard because I’m kinda questioning atm, but I would say I like women and identify as NB using male pronouns which I personally feel is accurate to me, but I still am unsure myself what that actually means. I am still figuring myself out.
3. Relationship status 
Single and honestly looking. I’ve had one girlfriend in high school and I’ve had romantic interests since but I have such low self confidence that I end up being too nervous to really pursue a relationship.
4. Someone you miss 
My friend Rebekah. I miss her a lot. She’s like a sister to me.
5. Person who’s arms you’d like to be in 
Hmmmmmmmmm... anyone really...
6. What you find attractive in Men/Women? 
Typically I find personality attractive and looks don’t really matter, but usually someone’s smile and eyes draw my attention the most.
7. How tall are you? 
5’7 or ~170cm but I wish I was more smol.
8. What you love about yourself? 
Already answered
9. What you’re doing tomorrow? 
I’m probably going to exercise and play games with my gaming clan.
10. What are your future plans? 
My goal is to become an electrician, but I also want to go to various Asian countries and try to improve my Asian cooking by studying the food culture all over east asia.
11. Your last night out in detail?
Oh god I don’t even remember the last time I was out at night... I guess it was last year when I had my heart broken and I went to a really nice bar and spent $200 on alcohol and was GONE. Never again. Ended up being hung over for the first time in my life.
12. Your favorite book? 
Hmm... favorite book(s) would have to be the Ranger’s Apprentice series of books. Good story, good characters.
13. All of pets you’ve ever had?
I’ve had so many pets I could make a whole post about them and may do that later.
14. Something that changed your life? 
Unfortunately too many things have happened to change my life more than I would like. I still can’t really answer this question fully.
15. Do you remember your last dream?
I was basically playing a game that turned out to be an isekai and I basically had a SMG and had to fight off a dragon. Shit was weird but very vivid. It’s weird because I don’t particularly like guns or dangerous stuff in general. 
16. What your last text message says? 
“Keep me posted! We should meet up and have a toast to it!” was sent to my friend Renè, who has been my best friend since birth pretty much. Our parents were close while they were pregnant with us and we are practically brothers. He’s getting a house near where I live and we will live in the same state for the first time since we were 8 years old. Obviously we will social distance but we still had to celebrate and see each other to mark the occasion.
17. Do you respect your government and the way your country is run? 
Absolutely not. Please vote biden if you live in the US. Even if you hate the idea of voting for biden, he’s better than trump. If hillary had won, she would have been putting her third justice on the supreme court. Biden is the only chance for our freedom and for the freedom of many people. I am terrified of 4 more years of trump.
18. Where you would like to live? 
South Florida, where I was born.
19. Your  favorite flavor of ice cream?
Depends on my mood, but typically strawberry.
20. Last thing you ate?
Pizza that was left over from last night. 
21. Which swear word do you use the most? 
Fuck. Like I use it so much it’s stupid.
22. Your plans for summer?
Heh... plans...
23. Any upcoming concerts?
Bruh if only. Like I work as an usher and as a stagehand, so if any concerts were happening at all I would JUMP for joy. And I am CHONK so jumping is not exactly the most comfortable thing to do. 
24. Something that you’re proud of?
That I am finally committing to getting therapy for my long list of traumas. 
25. Do you still talk to your first crush?
I wish I could, but she’s not part of my life anymore, sadly. She was a good friend. 
26. What language do you want to learn? 
Japanese, because I really have a strong interest in their history and culture and want to go sightseeing there someday.
27. Where have you lived before?
Ft. Lauderdale, Florida and St. Louis, Missouri.  
28. Eye color?
I think it’s green or something but it changes depending on the light because it’s sometimes more silvery idk.
29. Favorite style of clothing?
Traditional Japanese formal wear. It’s always been an interest of mine. 
30. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
All of one minute to throw on an outfit and get socks on. I wish I had an eye for fashion but hopefully if I ever have a partner, they will help me with my style choices a bit lol. 
31. Where did you go today?
Nowhere, because pandemic lmao. 
32. Where are you right now?
In my room wishing I could have cuddles. 
33. How many countries have you visited?
None because money is not exactly a thing we have an abundance of.
34. Something old?
What does this mean? I guess I have my great grandfather’s old stamp collection. 
35. Something new?
Hell if I know, I’ve had nothing new in months.
36. Something inherited?
My laptop.
37. Is death more scary than life? 
Hell no. Death is easy. Life is scary and overwhelming but it’s worth living the life you have. You only lose out on life by dying before your time. You gain nothing in death, despite it being less scary and uncertain than living is. Keep living to experience everything you can and have no regrets once you do pass on.
38. Experience you’ll never forget?
The time my high school crush complimented my hair in physics class. I get very few compliments and I never feel that attractive so I hardly focus on my appearance but I had brushed my hair that day and the fact she commented on it made me smile very wide.
39. What’s your favorite part about today so far?
Honestly today has sucked and I have been dealing with depression but I am trying to stay positive. Hopefully the answer to this question changes later today! 
40. Who is your hero?
My Great-Grandmother. She was part of my life until I was 17 and she taught me that kindness and compassion is the most important trait for a human to have. She was the most amazing woman I have ever met in my life. 
41. Are you happy with where you live?
I love this house, but it’s definitely not perfect and I would love to have my own place someday. 
42. Do you like your handwriting? 
Ew no it looks like alien language. It’s so bad. I can barely read my own writing.
43. What do you wear to bed?
Typically just underwear, or in the winter I will wear a T-shirt and fleecy pants.
44. Tea or coffee?
Tea
45. Chocolate or Vanilla? 
Chocolate hands down. It’s such a varied flavor imo. 
46. Are you excited for anything?
Being okay someday. 
47. How late did you stay up last night and why? 
Midnight because sleep is hard.
48. What’s your ringtone?
I’m boring and keep my phone on vibrate so no ringtone.
49. Did you have a dream last night?
Yes, I said it earlier. 
50. What keeps you going each day?
Honestly no fucking idea lmao.
51. Picture of yourself?
You’ll have to DM me for that one, friendo. Anons get no face pics!
Also for the other people who sent in asks, I saw them, but I figured I could just use this ask to consolidate and not spam posts. Thank all of you for sending in asks, you are the best <3
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letterboxd · 4 years
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Life in Film: Kris Rey.
As her new comedy I Used to Go Here opens, Chicago-based writer and director Kris Rey talks to Letterboxd editor-in-chief Gemma Gracewood about turning 40, divorce, female friendships, why nobody but Jemaine Clement could pull off a scene making tea, and what we can all learn from Generation Z.
If Kris Rey’s new comedy I Used to Go Here were a typical Hollywood rom-com, it would finish just before Rey’s film starts: with Kate Conklin (Gillian Jacobs) as a newly published author, engaged to be married to a handsome guy. Instead, we meet Kate in a Bushwick apartment she can no longer afford, as her publishing company breaks the news that her debut novel (Seasons Passed; terrible cover art, purple prose) is a failure and the publicity tour is off. That’s on top of the insult that her fiancé has recently ended their engagement.
Kate is given a faint ray of optimism when her creative writing professor (Jemaine Clement) invites her back to the liberal arts college she graduated from a decade earlier, to give a talk to his Gen Z students. Leaving Brooklyn and her pregnant bestie behind, Kate dives into the nostalgia of her old Illinois stomping ground, and I Used to Go Here turns into a low-key, pot-fuelled, intergenerational romp through ideas of success, friendship, creativity, authenticity and idolization.
The film’s fans on Letterboxd include Matt Neglia, who writes: “Gillian Jacobs brings charismatic charm and restraint to her role as a writer longing for a time when we were filled with endless potential without the fear of failure.” Matt DeTurck identifies with this theme: “Relatable for anyone wrestling with fitting the pieces of their life together in ways that feel truthful.”
On the contemporary representation of university life, Alex Billington remarks that “it’s got all the college movie tropes… but it repackages all of these in a smart adult-looking-back indie film package”. Max notes that “the college kids are an invaluable addition and feel like people rather than college or Gen Z stereotypes”.
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Kate (Gillian Jacobs) and David (Jemaine Clement) in a scene from ‘I Used to Go Here’.
Your film starts just after the point at which a mainstream comedy about a single white woman in her thirties would end: with Kate’s book being published to no acclaim, her engagement being broken off, everybody else pregnant except her. It runs in opposition to the happy endings Hollywood has made us expect. Kris Rey: Oh god, [that’s] so astute. No-one has said that before and I have never thought of it before, but that’s so true! I think what’s so interesting about the whole journey that she goes on, and all of our own personal journeys, is that you’re used to, like, at the end of the movie, they get married! She gets her book published! And then everything is perfect! And then you realize: ‘Oh. Oh god, okay. How do I move on from this?’ So, you’re right, that is what’s so different about this.
The other thing—and I’m sure this can be said about most films this year—is how the set-up feels weirdly right for these times, which is to say: the widespread derailment of plans that the pandemic has wrought. It’s like we’re in a strange global coming-of-age. Several Letterboxd reviews observe how, for women in their late twenties to early thirties, there’s a second coming-of-age where everything suddenly feels extremely nostalgic. The film dives into that longing feeling by literally returning Kate to her old college. It’s funny, you know, a lot of people have pointed out how this doesn’t quite fit into a category. It’s not a rom-com, it’s not a true coming-of-age film in a sense of what we know that to be. I think that part of it is exactly what you’ve just pointed out, which is that it’s about a unique period of time for women, where you do reach this precipice. Mostly, it comes out of this big ever-pressing question which is “Am I going to have a family or not?”. Not every woman, but most women, have that question in their head until they either have a baby or they reach the age where they can’t have a baby anymore. “Am I going to have this? Am I going to follow this path of domesticity? Am I going to find a relationship that works long enough to have a family with them? Am I going to have to make sacrifices in my career to make room to have a family? Am I going to find them all at once?” Men just don’t have that point, to no fault of their own, but the fault of the patriarchy in general, which is that it has to be a conscious decision for women in a way that everything revolves around that, as we go about our lives at that age.
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And you’ve explored that idea in more than just this film. I loved the awkward-yet-sincere moment at the baby shower, when the friends make her hold her book alongside their third-trimester bumps for a group photo. A book is a baby, and its publication should also be celebrated! Scenes like that emphasize how well Gillian Jacobs embraced the role of Kate. What did she bring to it that wasn’t on the page? There’s such a special thing that happens when you cast anyone for anything. It certainly happened with Gillian, but also with everyone. Definitely Jemaine was a big one, which is that I don’t typically write for specific actors. I write a character, I write the dialog, and then when I cast them I think ‘oh, Jemaine Clement is going to be in this role’, so then I go back through and read the whole thing in his voice and think ‘maybe he’d say it like this instead’ and maybe after [a scene we don’t wish to spoil], he would make tea for everyone. Very few, if any, American actors would be able to pull that moment off. That is kind of what I’m looking for: who are they? Are they able to feel like real people? Because so often they feel performative.
Like versions of a person. Right. Like they’re acting like a person! Gillian is very authentic. If you were to talk to her, she would just seem like her real self, and that was what was so appealing about her for me. Gillian just really brought herself, and I learned about her as a person.
As well as great comics like Kate Micucci and Jorma Taccone, there’s a lovely assortment of inclusive young characters who live in Kate’s old student house. Where did you find them? I just flushed them out and gathered them and held them close! There’s a couple of them that I didn’t know but I had seen in other stuff. Josh Wiggins, who plays Hugo, I’d seen him act in a movie called Hellion. Forrest Goodluck I saw in The Miseducation of Cameron Post. He’s incredible in that and I knew I wanted him to play Animal. Hannah Marks was someone that was sent to me, and we talked on the phone and I just knew she would be perfect. She’s such a brilliant go-getter and filmmaker and so ambitious in her own life. Khloe Janel, who plays Emma, auditioned for me here in Chicago and she’s so good. I adore her. I was taking a walk yesterday through the neighborhood and I saw her name on a little sign—she was making these poetry zines! I bought one.
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Hugo (Josh Wiggins), Animal (Forrest Goodluck) and Tall Brandon (Brandon Daley) in ‘I Used to Go Here’.
The person we need to know about is whoever the guy is who plays Tall Brandon! Brandon Daley, who plays tall Brandon, is a person that I just knew. He is on the periphery of my social circle and he had come to a few parties at my house. His buddies called him ‘Tall Brandon’, in this very demeaning way! They were of course all good friends. I thought he was such a funny character that I wrote the character based on him. But I didn’t know him. Then he heard that I had written a part called Tall Brandon and he asked if he could play the part. I was like, “I don’t think so, Brandon!”
Was he an actor? Kind of. He’s a filmmaker but he’s much younger than me and he hadn’t done anything besides his own work. But I made him audition for the role based on him! [Laughs] I don’t know, I was just like, it’s a huge role, you know? The last thing you want is someone who can’t act like themselves, which everyone struggles to do. Anyway, he was so good in the audition, so funny, and he just nailed it. He steals the whole movie! He’s just so good.
I Used to Go Here is a long way from problematic college fare like Revenge of the Nerds or the angst of St Elmo’s Fire. It feels thoroughly 21st-century, especially in how the Gen Z housemates take an inclusive, ‘sure, why not’ approach to having Kate tag along with them. What inspired the way you wrote the intergenerational aspects of the film? There weren’t necessarily college films that I was using for inspiration. I wanted the place to feel the same that she left, but I wanted the people to feel different. This is what I’m finding in my life. I’m gonna turn 40 this year, and when I interact with people in their twenties, I’m blown away by the way that they view the world and the way that they view themselves and each other. I’m so impressed by it. And I am on board with a lot of these cultural changes that we’re seeing happen before our eyes, like, the idea of gender identity has changed so much, and so quickly. I’ve never seen anything change like that in my life. The idea of consent. When I first heard it I was like, “What? You have to ask if you wanna touch someone or kiss someone? It seems so lame!” Now, I can’t believe that we ever did that! I’m learning so much. They seem so clear-headed about it all. I just think that we have a lot to learn from that generation.
The movie’s not about that, necessarily, but it’s infused into it and I wanted that to influence Kate, in her life. Some of it is specific to this generation, but some of it is also just specific to being in your twenties. The character April, the way that she thinks about the [publishing] industry and her art, and the way that Kate, who is jaded, is like, “Okay, whatever, you’re naïve, make your little magazine, but you’ll have to follow the rules.” We’ve all been faced with that before.
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Kris Rey with her son Jude Swanberg on the set of ‘I Used to Go Here’. / Photo by Blair Todd
So it’s a watershed year for you, turning 40. What would you define success and happiness as now, compared to when you were in your twenties and the ideas you had about the industry then? Oh, god. Okay so I’ve also had a lot of personal growth because I got divorced this last year, which was crazy. I’ve got two kids, a four year old and a nine year old. So I’ve been through so much; it’s been such a huge change for me. I have learned a lot, but one of the things that I have learned so much is that the relationships that matter the most in my life are my female friendships. I’ve always known that, but I’ve never seen it so much as I have in the last two years, both personally throughout my divorce, and professionally through making a film without a romantic partner to lean on. Of course I have male friends that are wonderful and supportive, but my female friends, those relationships are where I’m realizing I wanna put my effort into more than any other part of my life.
Okay, it’s time for a few questions about movies that are important to you. Thinking back, what is the film that made you want to be a filmmaker? Boogie Nights was the first film that I watched when I was in high school that I thought ‘oh, this is a job, and I’m seeing someone make stylistic choices that are interesting and unique’. You can see the behind the scenes in that movie a little bit. I remember watching it and thinking ‘that would be a cool job’. I also really loved the movie Bottle Rocket in high school. I began my filmmaking career thinking that I wanted to make documentaries, and so there’s also a lot of docs that I loved. But those were the early films that made me realize that it was even a job. Unfortunately not any female filmmakers, because I think that was just so rare [then].
What is your all-time comfort favorite film? Sleepless in Seattle, no question.
There’s your female filmmaker! Yes, but with a movie like Sleepless in Seattle, it’s such a mainstream movie that I never thought of it as ‘a job’. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I saw more independent and auteurish works. But Nora Ephron is a genius. That movie is perfect in my opinion.
What’s a film that, as a teenager, felt like a mirror into your soul? That movie with Chris O’Donnell, an Irish film, Circle of Friends. With Minnie Driver! Who is also in Good Will Hunting, another film I saw in high school. I haven’t seen Circle of Friends since it came out, but it felt very real to me, that movie. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that movie to anyone!
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Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes in ‘Shakespeare in Love’ (1998).
What is the sexiest film you’ve ever seen? Shakespeare in Love! [Laughs.] There’s two movies. One was Legends of the Fall. It was literally the sexiest movie I’d ever seen up till that point. I was very young when it came out and there was this lovemaking scene by candlelight and I was like, ‘oh, that’s what sex is!’. And then Shakespeare in Love. That scene where he’s unwrapping her? So hot.
Who is another director you’d die for? I’m such a huge fan of Nicole Holofcener. I love her films so much. I have never met her. I do know some people that know her and I am honestly so scared to meet her because I like her work so much. She’s probably my favorite filmmaker. I just vibe with everything she makes. I love the tone. I just love all of her movies.
What’s a film that we should watch after we watch yours? You should watch She Dies Tomorrow. It’s so good, and Amy Seimetz is my very, very close and dear friend. We started making movies at the same time. Our movies were supposed to premiere at SXSW on the same day, and now they are being released on the same day, and we’re just in love with each other. Amy and I are— the movies are so wildly different from each other, but her movie is so good. It is really funny, it’s really weird and it’s really appropriate for the times right now.
I feel like some reviews are missing the comedy in it. I laughed so much throughout that film. I agree: people don’t get it! Can I shout out another movie that I watched recently? Crossing Delancey. I had never seen it before and my sister-in-law texted me and she was like, “you should watch this film like right now—this seems like something you would love”. I couldn’t believe how good it was. It’s so great. It feels like it could be shot right now in Brooklyn. All the cool kids in Brooklyn are dressing exactly the same way that all the cool kids in Brooklyn dressed in 1988, or whenever it came out. She’s having a dialog with a friend and the friend is like openly breastfeeding. And the way that they’re talking about romance and all this stuff is so on point. That movie’s great.
And another female director! Joan Micklin Silver. Yeah!
Related content
Dana Danger’s chronological list of films directed by women
Appropriate Behavior: the Letterboxd Showdown of indie, slacker and mumblecore films
Quarter Life Crisis: a list by Mary, and another by Michelle
Follow Gemma on Letterboxd
‘I Used to Go Here’ is now in select theaters and on demand. All press images are courtesy of Gravitas Ventures.
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hyunsracha · 6 years
Text
alone with you — bang chan
word count: 1.8k
summary: unfortunately, you were a bit of a living cliche.
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you weren’t a fan of classic romance tropes
star-crossed lovers, bad and good kids, enemies to lovers, etc.
you thought they were stupid and cheesy and- who even falls in love with their enemy?
unfortunately, you were a bit of a living cliche
you weren’t exactly a good kid, you just didn’t like getting bad grades
being at the top of your class didn’t make you a good kid, okay? you..you were edgy!
right,,,,anyway!
since you were a good kid, you were obviously head over heels for….
that’s right! a bad boy
and he was your best friend! even better!
you met chris when you were in 6th grade, after he punched a kid in the nose for calling you ugly
“i just felt like punching someone and he has a punchable face...i didn’t do it for you...WHY are you smiling at me like that???”
you’ve been thick as thieves for the past 6 years
but were you close with the rest of his friends? not really
he had 8 others he kept in his inner circle, and they were all like him
leather jackets under white t-shirts, black jeans and black high tops, you get it!
some of them even sucked on lollipops during school, they liked being That stereotypical
i’m looking at u jisung
jeongin had suggested that they smoke to seem cool and edgy but he got a whack on the head from woojin so that didn’t happen
chris’s friends liked to call you a square as an insult, like you lived in the fucking 40s or something
but! you couldn’t get rid of them!
they fucking followed chris everywhere like little puppies!
“what are you guys doing here -___-”
“well chris is here so we’re here too!!”
“can you leave?”
“why would we do that?”
it was kind of exhausting
as much as you Liked chris, you just wanted to hang out with him as a friend :((
and you tried! many times! to ask him to hang out, just the two of you :(
but his boys always showed up and made it 10
like one time, you guys were at a cafe by your school, just drinking hot chocolates and talking
you guys had a seat by the window...you had said it was because you wanted to feel the sun on you
but you actually just liked how pretty chris’s eyes looked when the sun hit them :(
then you heard knocking on the window
“goddamn- what do you guys want?”
“CHRIS MY MAN!! HOW'S IT GOING :DDD” jisung had yelled through the window
changbin pulled on his arm, dragging him towards the front door where everyone else was heading
you had sighed
of course they had to come and ruin things :(
but chris didn’t seem to mind, so it was whatever ://
you actually didn’t mind his friends that much, it was just that you couldn’t get rid of them
chris would walk you to your classes, and the rest of his lil gang would follow behind
even jeongin. who was like two grades below and his classes were on the top floor
one night, you were watching tv in the living room
it was disney channel
moana was on! were you just gonna ignore the opportunity to watch moana?
no!
your parents were out at one of their fancy business dinners or whatever, you weren’t really listening
so you were alone
and it was fine, you were alone all the time at home, but this time … something felt off?
like it was a friday night, and you were watching movies with snacks and blankets and everything was so soft and warm
what was missing?
your parents? no, you were fine without them
but it was Someone...you just felt like you needed Someone
you were lonely
of course you wanted chris, but you would’ve taken anybody who wanted to hang out with you
and behold, there was a knock on your door!
you leaped up, basically sprinting to the door
it could’ve been your 50 something year old neighbor, but if it was someone to talk to 
then !!!!!
you flung the door open, your eyes widening at the sight
your best friend, mr chris bang, his head hung low, his hands clasped behind his back
“hi channie...what’s up? where are the others?”
he just walked in, heading to your bathroom
d-did he just show up at your house to pee?
he left the door open CHRIS CLOSE THE DOOR WHEN U-
“where’s your first aid kit?”
“what?”
“first aid kit. y’know, bandaids and shit?”
“why?”
“i need some fucking first aid, y/n, why else would i ask? for funsies?”
“ok dickhead.” you walked into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink
then you got a look at his hands and his face
his knuckles were cut up and covered in blood
and he had a cut on his lip, and a few on his cheek
...how was he still so pretty?
wrong time y/n, but ur thoughts are valid!
“christopher.”
“my name isn’t christo-”
“chan.”
“it’s literally just chr-”
“chanstopher.”
“what the fuck”
“what happened to you?”
“i…i fell down the stairs?”
“chris,” you pushed his shoulder down, pushing him to sit on the toilet seat, “i thought you said you wouldn’t fight anymore.”
“i haven’t been fighting, i swear it! this guy just annoyed me.”
“what did he say?”
“just shit about my mom.”
you nodded.
you knew from years of friendship that chris really loved his mom.
his dad split when he was little, and it really messed his mom up.
she was still working on making herself better again, so chris basically raised his little sister by himself.
you sighed, pulling out a cotton pad and wiping away some of the blood on his hands
“babe, you didn’t need to fight him. i mean yeah, he was being a dick but, you didn’t need to get hurt over it.”
“what did you just call me?”
your face flushed
“babe! like . the pig?”
“did you just call me a pig...babe?”
“ALRIGHT let’s get you cleaned up hahaha!”
you cleaned up his wounds, listening to chris hum
it was probably a song that he was working on with changbin and jisung
you always thought that chris was super talented, and that he could have a career in music
but he didn’t want that
whenever you asked about his plans for the future, he would just smile
“i’ll go wherever you go.”
“i mean like...for a job.”
“i’ll figure it out.”
you wrapped up his hands, your fingers bumping along his burning skin
chris was very affectionate, so you were no stranger to his skin
but every time you two touched, you still burned
you don’t really remember when you started liking chris
maybe it was when he punched that kid for calling you ugly
or maybe it was in 8th grade when he nervously asked you if you wanted to dance at your first school dance
or maybe it was in 9th grade when he showed up at your house to take you to homecoming.
you still remember the look on his face when he saw you all dressed up
“you- you’re so pretty.”
“what was that?”
“i said you look okay. let’s go, doofus.”
you stood from your crouching position, extending a hand for him to take
“i think moana’s still on...do you wanna stay for a little bit?”
you would never get over his brilliant smile
you two wrapped yourselves up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap
his hand rested on your thigh, absentmindedly tracing shapes into your skin, making you shiver
“so…,” you started after a while, “why aren’t the others here?”
“oh...i told them to fuck off.” his cheeks were red as he kept his eyes on the tv, refusing to look at you
“what? why?”
he didn’t respond, choosing instead to mumble about how he wanted to watch mulan after moana was over
“channie?”
he sighed, rolling his head back, “you’re the only person i wanna see right now. i don’t wanna deal with the guys or my mom or even my sister. only you.”
“was that supposed to be nice? i’m the only person you can Deal With.” you kicked at his leg
“hey! i Am being nice!”
“no! be actually nice to me for once!”
“i punch guys for you ALL THE TIME”
“that’s not nice you idiot”
“they say creepy things about you!”
“my hero.” you kicked his leg again, unable to keep the smile off your face
chris kind of had that effect on you
“okay fine. want me to be actually nice to you?”
“yes please”
“okay. you have the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen.”
“o-okay t-thank-”
“and the prettiest eyes. and the prettiest hair. and the prettiest everything. you’re so fucking pretty, you know that? i’ve always thought that. your heart is pretty, too. you’re so nice and genuine and you cleaned up my stupid cuts at god knows what time it is.”
“y-you’ve been nice enough now-”
“you’re everything to me. i don’t know where i would be if it wasn’t for you and your pretty eyes and pretty voice telling me that i’m better than this. god i….y/n i think i’m in love with you.”
a moment of silence
“no, i don’t think. i know.”
your heart was caught in your throat and you couldn’t breathe
“a-are you drunk?”
your voice cracked
smooth
“i drove here.”
“so?”
he slapped your thigh
“dick. do you think that lowly of me?”
there he was, looking at you, all pouty eyes and pouty lips, just telling you he was in love with you and then acting like nothing happened!
well, here’s your chance, y/n
take it
you took a deep breath, gathering all the courage you could from the air around you before slowly leaning into him
his eyes widened when he realized what you were doing, but then he closed his eyes and followed your lead.
you would never get over how you felt once his lips touched yours; fire.
the same heat you felt when he touched you, just on the inside
your insides were burning in the most painfully enjoyable way.
you pulled away first.
“okay, christopher.”
“that’s still not-”
“chan.”
“just call me-”
“chanstopher.”
“i don’t even know where that came from.”
“if you wanna be with me-”
“i do.”
“let me talk. if you wanna be with me, no more fights, okay? i don’t care if they’re talking bad about your mom, or your sister, or your boys. no asshole is worth you getting hurt like this, yeah?” you grabbed his hands, running your thumbs over his bandages
“what if they’re talking about you?”
“not worth it. no asshole is worth your pain, chris.”
“fine. i won’t fight anymore.”
“and tell your friends to fuck off more often. i like being alone with you.”
chris chuckled, a sound that make your heart scream.
“can do, babe.”
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incarnateirony · 5 years
Note
Hey! What's your take on the opinion that Romance isn't a part of the core SPN themes (family, brotherhood etc etc)? Or would the fact the SPN is a soap opera negate this opinion entirely? (I mean one of its listed genre is Drama after all). Thanks (preemptively) foe the answer!
First answer: Complicated.
Most of the time this is a smoke screen being run by an anti choosing to skip context like this show didn’t start with lovers burning on the ceiling or haunting them on the street and like they didn’t have multiple relationships over the show and like the original endgame wasn’t domestic with Lisa (and don’t get me started on shipping culture moving the LGBT goalpost where Lisa’s original ending would have counted even without S6 but the literal DeanCas mirror of it right down to Never Too Late doesn’t, Because Reasons.)
Romance has always been part of the show. The problem is it isn’t a *focus* of the show. Even when it comes down to straight sexytimes, for example, we haven’t seen a real Dean sexytime since season *eight*, or seven years ago, unless you count Deanmon which was literally used to highlight the problems going on with Dean. And even that was 5 years ago now. Dean’s implied hookups since? “Just subtext! Maybe they went and played Paper Football! We Just Don’t Know!!!!!!!”
So is it fair to say it isn’t a *focal* point of the show, especially modernly, wherein for the last, IDK, half the fucking 15 year run of the show Subtext has been enough Canon Common Sense But Only When Straight? 
One of the biggest complaints that is counterintuitive in fandom is the whole statement “’That isn’t what the show is about’ is a bad cop out”, which looks REALLY fuckin’ great on paper until you realize even the straight romances or even straight physical hookups have all been communicated in subtext and body language for the last two fucking showrunners.
SPN is a genre piece. That genre is not romance. That does not mean a genre piece can not sub-genre in romance for certain arcs, and it’s like kindergarten logic when people break that out. And SPN has been doing so for *years*.
The real struggle, however, is the premise of putting two leads together in a romantic relationship; let’s pretend, for a second, that we didn’t pretty well know there’s a giant corporate issue attached to this which I’ve covered the origins of before, and that there was no stonewall.
Even if they were opposite gender leads, to put them together in a relationship before the end *does* legitimately risk fucking up A LOT. And I don’t just mean people’s take on who’s ace or bi or repulsed or aromantic or How Fandom Has Headcanoned Things Need To Be, but I mean just on general story. 
Generally the method to do this would be to just write a loudly suggestive scene like any other het moments the show has had in years, and then write it as an established relationship quietly thereafter, if you don’t want to completely genre-toss us. And an established relationship of two male warriors that are incredibly masculine in presentation is not necessarily going to be the performative thing a fandom wants, especially when unfortunately the loudest voice box available for them is from LGBT+ women. And it’s LGBT issues, yes, but relationships and cultures and experiences and manners vary and that’s why intersectionality exists.
I’ve seen suggestions like “Well you could divide them and then make them have to pursue each other to extend the tension!” Okay but the second you LOUDLY frame that as exclusively romantic you are tilting the genre already, and once you make that your central mytharc, you’re done. And *fuck* if Dabb isn’t *already* pushing that line *right now* with Cas’ deal and everything else floating around in the Divorce Season.
Now, if you wanted to, say, not move the goalposts – and recognize S10 was about their inevitable union via Cain (and was even louder pre-cut), and S11 was pining/connected hearts, and somewhere in there something got established before arguing about being unthoughtful or unappreciative, or before trading famous courting gifts like mixtapes, or “he came in my room and he played me” to get the item that was secretly under his pillow that he knew for rEAsOnS was there even when Sam didn’t, or that S13 was the grieving widower arc/reunion/never too late/lisa mirror//kinda honeymoon, and S14 was the domestic season where they’re just a family, until the divorce kicks off, that even TVG and soap reporters are calling a breakup like? That’s where we are. And if people recognize the threshold of romance in this show and apply the het bar the same as they apply the LGBT bar, and shipping culture stops fucking us up by manufacturing goalposts to argue with irrelevant antis the GA doesn’t give a FUCK about, suddenly… *jazz hands* Hey look the show isn’t about romance but we still have romance, and working adult brains. 
Hell the only main cast kiss in the last umpteen years was John and Mary. MOST ROMANTIC PAIRINGS ARE CODED BY HAND HOLDING IN THIS SHOW. 
Like can you imagine for a second if, instead of doubling down on old opinions, bitter takes and personal demands, everyone went and reviewed everything from Dabb era 11+ and just didn’t talk each and every individual instance down, be it loud mixtapes, lingering touches, major mytharcing, bold set design and directing, textual affirmations of love being talked down, just brushing under the rug that even hell gossips about it, just like heaven did too, and to stop reading everything that’s gay as a laugh track? Can you imagine, IMAGINE if this bitter ass fandom actually reviewed the content instead of competing with a collection of losers online that managed to, with the full force of the fucking internet and a bazillion fans online, make a little mob of 40 asshats that for some INEXPLICABLE reason the fandom feels they need to argue with even when TPTB ignore/openly mock them?
So yeah. The show isn’t about romance, but it can, and does, and even currently includes romance, and it is what it is.
Are visibility issues important, yes, I’m not taking away from that, but this is a multifaceted and heavily nuanced issue even in a world where we were talking about overt canonization, and we can’t just disregard the business ramifications on the product either. But “Good LGBT rep” is not synonymous with “The line that is our canon story”. Hell there’s a lot of shitty LGBT rep that’s loudly canon and proliferates bad stereotypes, that doesn’t mean it isn’t in their respective shows. Stop merging these things.All you’re doing is building new goalposts for yourself and yourself only that isn’t, and won’t, and hasn’t, and never will impact the actual canon content the GA is consuming.
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artificialqueens · 5 years
Text
From Under Liquid Glass (2) (Branjie)- Ortega
a/n: somebody said they wanted another lil chapter to this, so i hope u all enjoy! it’s been quite a while since the first chapter was posted, so if u want to catch up u can read here! I hope u all enjoy it, and as always feel free to send love to AQ or to my blog!!
Trigger Warning: lots of discussion around anxiety throughout the whole fic so just generally would say avoid if that’s something that’s going to potentially affect u
Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes was always told she’d have it all. She was never told that “all” would include crippling anxiety. Signed off from work at 27, Brooke moves back to her childhood home and has to get her head around her fall from grace.
Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo has no job, no degree, and -£32.65 to her name, but she prides herself on keeping a level head. That all changes when a certain high school crush moves back into town and back into her life.
***
Brooke sat in a slightly cushioned red chair with a curved back, rendering her almost horizontal in the way it reclined. Opposite her in an identical chair was an older woman of around 40, who wore thick-rimmed purple glasses and had ensured the whole room smelt of incense sticks. So far she was filling every therapist stereotype in the book.
“So the purpose of today’s session, Brooke Lynn,” she said, in a voice so calming it made her sound like she’d been tranquilised and was moments away from passing out. “Is to just let me get to know a bit about you and your situation and what’s brought you here to me.”
Brooke ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. “I’ve been…signed off from work. With stress.“
The woman sat opposite her, simply looking. Not staring. Not replying. Just looking. It soon became clear that she wasn’t going to speak, so Brooke sighed, crossed a leg and opened her mouth again. "And…it fucking sucks? Like I’ve been off for a couple of days now and I’m waiting for the moment where I don’t wake up feeling guilty as all hell and panicked and wanting to go back and work through it, but I know if I go back nothing will have changed and they’ll treat me like I’m all better and I won’t be.”
The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. “You mentioned ‘they’, who’s 'they’, Brooke Lynn?"
Brooke frowned, disliking the use of her name. It felt too personal, too familiar. She had only just met the woman and here she was about to tell her all her life story? There was no way she could do this.
Nevertheless, she puffed a lot of air out of her cheeks and continued. "My management. They don’t care about staff wellbeing. As long as there’s a body in the room, they’re happy.”
The woman nodded slowly, then cast an eye to the forms on the small coffee table beside her that Brooke had filled in just moments ago. “So you’re a secondary school teacher. It must be a very high-pressured job- exam grades to be met, reports to write, challenging behaviour?"
Brooke knew what she was trying to do, to get her to reveal more information without really asking her anything. It grated on her, and part of Brooke wanted to call her out on it irritably but then she’d be filling another therapy stereotype, the guarded, cranky patient who didn’t want to let her walls down, so she didn’t. "Yes. I teach dance, so. There’s lots of pressure to get my kids into dance schools as well. From parents, from management, from the kids.”
“And do you feel that some of that pressure comes from yourself?” the therapist asked. Brooke was taken aback by the question. She furrowed her brows.
“I mean…yeah, I guess? I always tend to put pressure on myself but that’s how I function, it’s how I work best, under pressure. So there’s always got to be a bit of that.”
“And do you feel under pressure just now, being off work?”
Brooke again was unsure. She thought of her answer for a moment before she said it, the room filled with silence. “I guess not? I mean no, maybe, yeah. Pressure to come back, I suppose.”
“Okay. Let’s take right now. Are you feeling under any pressure?"
Brooke blinked. If she thought about it too much, then yeah, sure. But at the moment, in the moment, she felt fine. She felt safe, if guarded. "No.”
“And are you still functioning?”
“…Yes.”
“So you don’t really need to pressure yourself to work hard. Do you?”
Brooke felt her eyebrows raise. Her voice caught in her throat. “I…guess not.”
There was a small pause. The woman nodded back at her. “Maybe something that we can work on is…thinking in the moment.”
Brooke felt an odd sense of clarity. Was this how therapy was supposed to feel? “Okay. Sure.”
The therapist moved on. “So you detailed you were living at home for the time being. What’s your support system like here?”
“Uh, there’s my Mum and my Dad. Both still working, inexplicably, since they both should’ve retired a couple years ago. They’re sweet and supportive but I don’t feel like I can really properly talk to them, you know?”
The therapist nodded and said nothing. This was like pulling teeth.
“Uh, there’s my cat, Henry. Well, he’s not strictly my cat, he’s the family cat.”
“And what about friends?” the woman asked inquisitively, Brooke shrugging easily.
“Yeah, I mean I have-” she cut herself off. Yvie? Plastique? Bianca? Scarlet? Detox? No. None of them she could really call support. Nina? She was sweet, but she was a work friend, plus she was now miles away back in the city. Who did Brooke actually have? The thought sobered her, and she clammed up. The therapist gently spoke again.
“We don’t have to discuss friendships today if that’s a particularly sore subject for you, but it’s good that you at least have family around you at this time.”
“It’s not that it’s a sore subject, I guess I just…” Brooke sighed, feeling a lump in her throat which she quickly swallowed down. “I just didn’t realise how few friends I have any more.”
“It’s natural to lose contact with people as you grow older. Perhaps one thing you could decide to do with your time off is to catch up with old friends while you have the time. It may help you feel more grounded, or lift your mood,” the woman suggested gently. Brooke watched as she glanced to the clock on her desk. “That’s almost it for the time we have. Next session we’ll talk a bit more in detail about what we’ve covered just now, but it was good to meet you today, Brooke Lynn, and to get to know you a bit. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Brooke thought. “Uh, how many of these sessions would you say I had to have before I start feeling…you know. Myself again.”
Her therapist set her mouth in an awkward line. “That’s not for me to say. It’s whenever you feel ready and whatever pace you move at over the course of these sessions. It’s entirely your decision.”
Brooke nodded briefly. That was good. She enjoyed having the control, enjoyed feeling like she could stop at any time.
“What time would suit you for next week’s session?”
Brooke cracked a smile. “Uh, well, I’m pretty easy, what with the whole being signed off work thing.”
The woman opposite her just looked at her expectantly. Tough crowd, therapists. Brooke picked the same day, same time and then left the building, the professional, office-like facade rendering none of the general public able to tell that Brooke has just been to see someone because she was ever so slightly fucking loopy. She felt as if she was part of Men In Black. Or the MIB would have to stand for something else. Mentally Ill Bitch? That should do it.
Checking the time and slowing down outside a coffee shop, she shrugged. It was just past 10 and she hadn’t had any breakfast yet, unless she counted a beta blocker and a cup of tea. She pushed the door and headed inside, the smell of coffee hitting her instantly and reminding her of work, an uneasy feeling creeping up in her chest. The feeling only got worse when she saw who was in the queue one person ahead of her. She heard her before she saw her, Vanessa shouting up an order for a cappuccino loudly over the banging and whirring of the coffee machines. She was dressed in a smart red pinafore dress with a black top underneath, its ¾ length sleeves showing off her tanned arms. Brooke was thrown, looking at the ceiling, the floor, the suspicious-looking cheese and mushroom toasties on display, anything and anywhere apart from the girl’s face. Brooke felt herself hold her breath. Why the fuck was she destined to bump into Vanessa every time she looked like a demon from an M. Night Shyamalan movie? Her hair (clean, but not blow-dried so all her ends were dry and frizzy) was swept up into an unattractive ponytail that made her look like a forgotten Mitchell brother, she didn’t have a scrap of makeup on her face, and all her clothes were the ones from uni she’d neglected to take with her when she moved so she was wearing dark blue jeans, white converse, and a horrific blue sweatshirt patterned with sushi with “THIS IS HOW I ROLL” in huge white letters across the front, which had seemed like a good idea to nineteen-year-old Brooke.
And then Vanessa turned around and hit her with a huge beaming smile, her face lighting up in surprise. Fuck. For a huge town, it did simultaneously seem really quite small.
“Hey! Brooke Lynn! Come up! She’s with me,” Vanessa gestured and said to the barista, an awkward Brooke shuffling past the man in front of her and over to Vanessa. “How are you?”
“I’m alright, thanks- uh, an almond croissant and a flat white, please,” Brooke said to the man across the counter from her, cringing as she felt the judgemental eyes of the man queueing behind her boring into her. Trying to ignore her overwhelming embarrassment at feeling watched, she turned to Vanessa instead. “How are you?”
“I’m fuckin’ peachy, girl. Gone and got myself an interview, haven’t I?” Vanessa smiled proudly, a smile involuntarily springing to Brooke’s face.
“Oh, wow, that’s great! Congratulations!"
"Yeah, well, it’s only Lidl. It’s not amazing. But I’m still excited,” Vanessa shrugged, Brooke clocking the dimples that appeared as the other girl smiled. Had they always been a thing?
“You could say you’re a Lidl bit excited,” Brooke said, completely monotone as Vanessa snorted a laugh and thumped her on the arm. Brooke was distracted by the barista who asked her if she wanted her food to take away. Brooke gave a quick glance at Vanessa, who smiled hesitantly.
“I’ve got mine to sit in. I’ve got twenty minutes or so before I have to head for my train, you can come join me if you want,” she shrugged lightly, Brooke feeling a blush hit her cheeks. Why? Why was she blushing? It was only a girl from high school asking her to hang out.
“Sure. Sitting in then, please,” Brooke smiled tightly at the barista. She held her card out to tap against the reader, but before she could even react, Vanessa had leaned across and got her own card there first. Brooke turned to her with narrowed eyes and the other girl smirked cheekily. “You’re literally unemployed.”
“Oh, what, and a bitch can’t treat a girl to nice things?” Vanessa snapped, her face at once furious, and Brooke felt her own blanche in horror. A tsunami of relief washed over her as Vanessa suddenly laughed, her eyes crinkling up at the edges. “Jesus H Christ, you’re far too easy to wind up. You’re like a lil’ clockwork toy.”
Brooke felt her cheeks grow hot. Blushing again. What the fuck?
They took their drinks to a small seat beside the window, where the glass was wet and misty from condensation and the people passing outside moved like ghosts. Vanessa curled her hands around the huge mug of coffee, neglecting to sip it yet and instead choosing to tilt her head and smile at Brooke gently. “So, you’re up kinda early for a bitch that’s off work. You not livin’ the high life watching Judge Rinder and sleepin’ in til noon an’ shit?”
Brooke gave a laugh. “I was at therapy.”
“Damn, well I really put my foot in it there,” Vanessa gave a slightly choked cough and smiled guiltily at Brooke. “I’m sorry, girl. How was it? You make any amazing breakthroughs?”
“Well it was only the first session. It was mainly just me filling out paperwork and telling her about my life and stuff,” Brooke shrugged, looking down as she ripped her croissant in two. When she looked up, Vanessa was biting back a smile, her eyes sparkling a little.
“Damn. You paid forty pounds for that?”
Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the girl opposite her, trying and failing to hold back a smile at Vanessa’s mischievous grin. “Forty five actually.”
“Oh, my bad. Sorry. Forty five,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke laughing in spite of herself. “Shit, maybe I should become a terrapin.”
“…therapist,” Brooke corrected her, a little awkward. As Vanessa snorted at herself, her cheeks grew red in a blush that only seemed to make her more endearing. Intrigued, Brooke tilted her head. “Okay, then, Miss Therapist. What would you say to me? What advice would you give?”
“Well, I’d just say that…” Vanessa began, looking a little lost. Snapping her gaze back to Brooke, her face seemed to soften. It set off a warm feeling that spread across Brooke’s heart and out into her chest. “I’d say that things look really shitty now, but it’s always darkest before dawn, y’know, and tomorrow’s another day. Just try not to look at things long-term. I don’t know, I know I hardly know you, really, but you just seem like someone who has this big five-year-plan. You don’t have to, girl. You’re what, twenty-seven?”
“Good to know I look my age,” Brooke quipped dryly. Vanessa kicked her underneath the table.
“Bitch, I know how old you are! I was fourteen when you were eighteen, so you’re twenty-seven now! Am I wrong?”
“Do you call all your clients bitches?” Brooke asked, raising a single eyebrow.
“Only the pretty ones,” Vanessa gave her a look that Brooke couldn’t make out, but she knew it made her cross her legs under the table and squeeze her thighs together. Vanessa raised her coffee to her lips and gave a light shrug. “And the ones that are bitches, of course.”
Brooke snorted a laugh. “Okay, so that’s your advice? One day at a time, it’s always darkest before dawn? Damn, I’ve never visited a therapist that speaks entirely in cliches.”
Vanessa finished drinking and put her mug down. “Ah, but I actually gave you advice! Which is more than yours did today, what’d she do, give you some forms and listen to your life story?”
“Stop trash-talking my therapist, god,” Brooke rolled her eyes, Vanessa laughing playfully opposite her. Her deep brown eyes seemed to light up every time she laughed or smiled, giving them a sparkle that Brooke couldn’t help but be drawn to. “You’re not getting paid for that, by the way.”
“Damn. Shame, really. I could use it if this job interview goes to shit,” Vanessa shrugged, her smile turning the slightest bit sad as she turned to look out the window. “Which it prolly will.”
“Don’t say that! It’ll be fine. Better than fine! You’ll be great,” Brooke insisted, almost falling over herself to reassure Vanessa. God, why was she so nervous all of a sudden? It was probably the anxiety. It definitely wasn’t the smile Vanessa sent her way in return.
“You’re sweet,” she said softly, a slight flush of red hitting her cheeks.
Yep. Definitely the anxiety. Not Vanessa’s outrageously fucking beautiful face.
“Well, I’m telling the truth! You’d be great in retail, I don’t know why people aren’t falling over themselves to employ you.”
“Brooke, when I said I didn’t have any quali…qualificitations…”
“Qualifications.”
“…fuckin’, A-Levels. I meant it. I have nothin’. I’m fuckin’ Whitney Houston over here,” Vanessa gave a small laugh, sighing as she took another sip. Brooke couldn’t help but mirror the sigh.
“If you don’t mind me asking…how come?” Brooke asked tentatively, cushioning the invasive question with a compliment. “You always struck me as someone really bright,”
Vanessa snorted. “Your judgement’s poor, boo. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. How d’you think I was fourteen in Year 7? I had to sit Year 5 twice. You know I straight-up couldn’t write a sentence on my own until I was eight?”
Brooke tried to feign indifference but she knew her expression gave her away. Vanessa laughed. “Exactly, bitch! Then when I got to high school, the teachers were all bitchier an’ meaner. And I was goin’ through puberty as well, which made me bitchier an’ meaner. So bitchy mean teachers plus bitchy mean Vanjie was never gonna be a good combo.”
Brooke let a small silence hang in the air as Vanessa stared out of the steamed-up window and cupped her mug with two hands. “I was screamin’ at teachers in class, swearin’ at ‘em, straight-up threw a book at some bitch’s head once. To be fair, she deserved it, ‘cuz she started sayin’ I would be a total failure in life an’ have no job an’ no prospects. And I mean, I am, but you don’t say that to a fifteen year old kid, right? I don’t know…I regret a lot of the shit I did, but I don’t regret that.”
Brooke said nothing, instead just choosing to listen to all Vanessa wanted to vent to her. “Of course, ‘cuz I started gettin’ mouthy in class I started gettin’ the attention of the other mouthy girls. They didn’t like me…fuck knows why, but they didn’t. I got in a bunch of fights…I mean, some people would prolly say they bullied me, but I gave as good as I got, you know? Anyway, got to sixteen an’ they expelled me. And there was no legal requirement for me to go back to school, so I never did. My Mum, shit, I never saw her so mad before. She told me the moment I turned eighteen I was out on my ass, an’ she held that up. I was all cocky, thinkin’ I could just charm myself into a job. But here I am. Five years later an’ I’m in a council flat livin’ off the most basic fuckin’ government handout and the last of the savings my Mum put aside for me.”
Brooke shook her head. “Fuck, Vanessa, I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”
“Hey, it’s just my life! That’s my lot, girl, an’ I’m stuck with it. But hopefully today’s my lucky day,” Vanessa smiled tightly, then frowned. “Fuck, Brooke, I’m kinda nervous.”
Brooke was hit with an unbearable urge to reach out and take Vanessa’s hand. She didn’t. “That’s natural. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it, they’ll love you!”
Vanessa smiled bashfully again, which made Brooke feel like melting butter. Unable to help herself, she added, “You could definitely charm yourself into a job.”
Brooke pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as Vanessa let out a laugh. “You’re awful, Jesus Christ! Stop distractin’ me, I need to be focused.”
“How am I distracting you!” Brooke exclaimed, affronted. Vanessa gazed at her with a look in her eye that Brooke couldn’t decipher, then shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter,” she laughed softly. Then her gaze snapped to the clock on the wall. “Damn, I need to hurry. That’d be my luck if I missed my fuckin’ train. Shit, sorry for offloading my fuckin’ life story onto you.”
“Don’t worry. I kinda did the same to you in the supermarket, so now we’re even. You have my full permission to launch into deep chat any time you see me,” Brooke smiled, regretting the fact that Vanessa had to leave. As she grabbed her bag, Vanessa’s face turned wistful. Pausing, she pulled out her phone.
“Y’know, we should do this again some time. Before you have to go back to work. I know I’m a shit therapist, but you still don’t need to pay me anythin’ if you wanna talk. I mean, maybe you can get the coffee next time. Since you actually earn a fuckin’ wage.”
Brooke laughed, her heart fluttering as Vanessa held out her phone with a blank contact on the screen. Brooke punched in her number then, pausing for only a second, she wrote her name as “Brooke x”. Her heart held its breath as Vanessa took the phone back, cast a glance over it, and smiled ever so slightly.
“Cool. Well, I’ll text you next time I’m free, and I’ll let you know how I do today. But it was so good to see you, girl. As always,” Vanessa smiled, leaning down and giving Brooke a hug. Her clothes smelt of washing powder and her hair had that freshly-shampooed scent, and the two combined made Brooke not want to let go. Vanessa made that decision for her, pulling away and waving a goodbye as she hurried out of the shop.
As Brooke watched her red-pinafored silhouette make its way to the train station, she found herself sitting her phone on the coffee table screen-up, an unexpected optimism and hope nestling itself in her heart, and her mind filled with the girl who had been dealt shit cards in life but who’d still tapped her card against the reader to pay for Brooke’s drink as if it was nothing.  
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