#one time i saw a bunch of english people had a discussion about whether it was racist that the creators of a show

[an-absolute-nightmare]

i appreciate it when people from anglican countries say that they shouldn't assume that people from non-anglican countries who live in their countries will have a stereotypical accent from their native countries. but sometimes i will encounter people acting like accents simply do not exist and that is very funny to me. ''why does this character who has newly arrived to america from korea have a stereotypical korean accent that's kinda racist :/'' bestie idk how to tell you this but somebody who has lived in korea their entire life has a stereotypical korean accent T_T

[ladyeliot]

It will always be you

Prequel: Stay with me

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: The snap has happened, the return of Wakanda has not been as you all expected, but now you have to face reality, and you just can't stop thinking about him, about Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word count: 4101

A/N: Post Infinity War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

Life is a continuous struggle of choices that you have to make without stopping to think for a second. It is said that hope is the last thing to be lost, probably because the choice you made almost left you without it. You must also learn that happiness is the last thing to be found, probably because the choice you have made has made you unhappier than you will ever be. Your life has been full of choices, you might have regretted many of them, but you decided at the time to make them, so you never allowed yourself to regret your actions, until that day.

Three weeks after Thanos snapped, hope was completely lost. The new facility has been uncharacteristically silent, no one has been able to say more than two words in a row, and you had barely managed to say one since your return from Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner and you, those were the surviving Avengers, the ones that life had given you a second chance, but it didn't really feel like one.

You were in your old room, old because two years ago one of your decisions had taken you away from that place, yes, you were against the Sokovia Accords, that had led you to take the side of the Captain and to fight against the side of Iron Man, who had been the person who had saved you from the madness that your powers had generated in your mind. But even if you had turned against him, you knew you owed him everything. Evidently this was something he didn't understand, which led to a wide rift that had never been bridged on either side, and which led to a breakdown in your relationship of closeness.

Every corner of that room had been kept exactly as you had left it that night when you fled with Wanda. Your drawings together with the charcoals scattered on the desk, the book 'In Search of Lost Time' by Marcel Proust on the bedside table and that bracelet that Tony had given you for your 26th birthday that you had left next to the open jewellery box on the bed. It was really painful to see all of this, knowing that those facilities would probably never be what they once were, that Wanda would not suddenly appear at your door, that you would never sit around the dinner table and that Tony would not occupy the armchair next to your bed to try to cheer you up after a mission that hadn't gone so well. You didn't know whether frustration was taking over the fear and sadness or whether you just didn't know how to control your feelings on that occasion.

The days were long, each of you working in silence trying to make sense of what had happened, looking for a solution that would never come to the problem. You shared the hours, but the solitude that enveloped you was too austere to realise that there was a person by your side. You didn't know Thanos' location, however, even if you did, especially if you did, it had become clear that you could not stand alone against his entire army.

"Would you like some?" asked Natasha offering you a plate with a veggie sandwich on it, which you took with an almost soundless 'thank you'.

Yes, actually that had been your first word in five days, since you said goodnight to Bruce last Sunday, food and sleep were not high on your priorities, especially when you spent the night using your telepathic detection trying to find some sign of life that would make you believe Tony was alive, but it was useless. Your psionic senses allowed you to track any sentient being, you were able to scan large areas, but your ability did not address the entire universe.

That night your spirits seemed to be running low to the ground, three weeks without having achieved anything that would allow you to have any lucidity in your plans was too long as the situation stood. You could hear in the background a soft murmur coming from a conversation between Natasha and Steve, but you weren't really paying attention to it, it was all in your thoughts. But at that instant, an inner burst made them evaporate. A signal came into your brain, a psionic emanation that alerted you to the presence of a spaceship entering the stratosphere, with a fixed direction, yours. You rose from your chair, standing upright, capturing the attention of the people around you. You closed your eyes, heightening all your senses, taking in all the information that was coming to you, at that moment you felt it. You opened your eyes and looked at them.

"He's here," were the only words you could utter before you rushed outside. Your companions soon followed your path, asking questions to explain what was happening, but your inner euphoria prevented you from saying a single word.

That ship appeared above you as you raced across the garden, night was falling relentlessly and you could only glimpse a halo of light that seemed to direct the ship as it landed delicately on the wide grassy esplanade. The five of you paused, taking in the scene, discovering how a side door opened to project a flight of stairs. When you saw his face for the first time your lungs deflated, letting out all the air they had accumulated over a long period of time. Your body went rigid and you didn't react until Steve ran past you and approached the ship to help him down.

He looked terrible, it was evident in every facial feature and in his body movements, you knew what you had been through, but you had no idea what Tony had been through since his disappearance in New York, although you could get a pretty good idea. Before your eyes were Steve and Tony in custody, reunited again, after all that had happened, none of it mattered, at least not to you, and perhaps you had a vain hope that it didn't matter to anyone else either. Even so you didn't know how to act when your eyes connected with his, for a slight moment you wanted to approach him, offer him a hug and tell him that you were relieved to discover that he was there, with you, after all, but you chose to stay where you were, next to Natasha.

It wasn't until you headed inside that the stiffness disappeared from your body. A whispered 'are you okay' from Steve made you react again and pay attention to Natasha's words that were projecting all the information gathered during those days.

"The governments are destroyed," she reported as she projected images showing the missing, like Wilson, Maximoff and Parker, among others, "the working parts are trying to do a census, and it looks like he did it. He did what he said he would do. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living things."

Silence echoed around you, you were sitting in an armchair, somewhat away from the other members, playing with your fingers, trying not to look up, until he spoke.

"Where is he now?" asked Tony. "Where?"

"We don't know," Steve informed him from beside you, sitting at a table. "He opened a portal and went through it. We looked for Thanos for three weeks, with deep space scanners," Steve looked at you, "and satellites, and we found nothing." He looked at Tony. "Tony, you fought him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony from his wheelchair. "I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the wizard gave away the store. That's what happened, there's no fight..."

You took a breath and sighed, because you could contemplate what was about to happen right now, the nerves were there along with the negativity and failure of some of the superheroes on that planet and others, and you knew it could explode at any moment.

"Tony, I'm going to need you to focus..." Steve repeated again hoping that Tony would offer him some clue as to the whereabouts of Thanos.

"I needed you," interrupted Tony in a raised tone. "as in past tense.  That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry." He used a second of his silence to look at Steve and another second to look at you, who stood beside him. You took in most of the feelings hidden in his gaze, and none of them were positive or forgiving. "You know what I need? I need a shave," he tried to get out of the wheelchair, taking everything on the table in his stride. "I don't believe I ever remember telling you this..." he ripped out the IV that connected the drip to his left arm. "To the living and the dead, What we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not," he looked back at you and Steve repeatedly. "That's what we needed!”

The discussion continued, avoiding an upset Tony explaining everything he thought about the current and past situation, ignoring the suggestions Rhodes was giving him to calm down and take his seat again.

"[...] Bunch of tired old wheels!" he pointed at Steve. "I got nothin' for you, Cap! I've got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options! Zero, zip, nada. No trust - liar."

Almost ipso facto he turned to you ripped off the reactor prostrate on his chest and handed it to Steve in his hand, leaving those present virtually speechless, if you still had any left.

"Here, take this. You'll find him, if you put that on. You hide-"

After those words you gazed again into his eyes full of resentment at the past, before his body could take it no more and he collapsed in the middle of the room.

In the hours that followed, you were the shadow of a ghost gazing at him from a distance from the door frame of one of the recovery rooms in the new complex. On the one hand fearing his reaction against you when he woke up, while on the other hand wanting to hear it because you knew that sooner or later it would come but you wanted it to come as soon as possible so that you could face it. Those words she had said to Steve were harsh, but they were really nothing to what you expected might happen. It seemed absurd at the time to have entertained the idea that it might have been forgotten.

"Bruce gave him a sedative," Rhodes said, looking up at you, who were leaning against the doorframe. "He'll be unconscious for the rest of the day. Do you want to sit down?"

"No...I'd better..." but Rhodes didn't allow you to finish your words, as he had risen from the armchair next to Tony and offered it to you. "Thank you."

The door to the room ajar to offer you some more privacy. As you turned your gaze towards him you realised the fragility his body conveyed in those moments, he had spent weeks wandering through space not knowing if he was going to get the chance to return home again and yet he had been able to stay alive and find himself there. You closed your eyes and settled back on the couch, you remembered the first time you did that with Tony, he had spent too much time without sleep after the events after the Chitauri invasion, he could barely sleep because of the nightmares and he begged you to stop them every night, so with your eyes closed you concentrated and invaded his mind with caution releasing the tension you found in it and giving him the peace he needed. When you opened your eyes again, her expression seemed to have changed, she seemed to have found some relief inside her, that fact made you smile. But a knock on the door woke you up.

"We need to talk," Steve's words sounded serious.

A new piece of information about Thanos' whereabouts came as a surprise, but for you the surprise came right after.

"Wait, is this some kind of punishment or something?" you said completely dumbfounded, just outside the room where Tony was, with what Steve was proposing. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone to stay with Tony," he said calmly crossing his arms.

"Is it because I'm the smallest of the whole team? Because I could really knock you all out right now with the blink of an eye," you said crossing your arms too.

"It's because Tony needs you," Steve lowered his tone, "and you need him."

There was nothing but truth in those words. You didn't know if Tony really needed you, but what you had assumed was that you'd needed him for a long time, and you'd put a lot of things before that need, creating your close relationship to go to shit, basically.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you on this mission," Steve said frankly. "And he wouldn't forgive me either if I said that happened."

You lowered your face as you nodded, accepting his words and the job you had been given.

"Be very careful," you said before Steve disappeared from in front of you to take a path that you had no idea what could be in store for them.

From that moment on, the hours went by really slowly, you took your position in that armchair again, you needed to have a clear mind, you couldn't continue martyring yourself with all the events that had happened, so you started reading 'In Search of Lost Time', that book that had been forgotten on the bedside table since you left that place. News was nil, you barely got a sign of what might be happening and you knew it would probably be days before you got it. 

Night was falling on the compound again, Tony was barely making any sign of waking up, which also gave you time to consider how the situation would play out, and various possibilities for coping with it. Some of his belongings had been salvaged from the ship, and his helmet, or rather what was left of it, stared at you from the dresser in the room. Without having a reason in mind you approached him, causing a blue light to suddenly flash across his eyes, showing you his figure in the middle of the room.

"Is it on?" a figure of a seated, completely haggard Tony appeared before your eyes. "Hey, Ms. Y/L/N, Y/N," your brow furrowed, but you approached his reflection. "If you find this footage don't put it on social media, it'll be really tearful," his words brought a sad smile to your face. "I don't know if you'll watch these videos. I don't even know if you're still... Oh god, I hope so..." there was a silence from his words, but you could see him bring his hands to his face, something inside you cracked. "I guess it's easier to do this if you know the chances of seeing you again are practically nil," something inside you made your heart shrink. "I probably should have realised this a lot sooner," he fell silent, "yeah, but I was busy trying not to hate you too much, you know, when you decided to abandon me and choose the other side," exhaustion almost prevented him from keeping his eyes open. "Anyway, anyway that made me realise how important you had been to me," he let his gaze wander, "I tried to be there for you ever since I met you and... god, this is getting too depressing," he ran his hand over his face. "I just want you to know that I wish you were here, because you're the only person I'd like to share my last hours with," he nodded slightly, you knew what he was trying to say with those words, which made your eyes water. "Don't feel bad about this, I mean, if you stay prostrate for a couple of weeks... and then move on with immense guilt..." he hid his face in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, you wiped away a tear that ran down your cheek keeping the bitter smile you had been wearing all along. "I want you to know... when I've fallen asleep, it will be like the nights we spent together. I'm fine. All right," he gestured towards you. "I'll dream of you. Because it will always be you."

Suddenly, as if nothing had happened, his image disappeared in front of your eyes, leaving you with hundreds of feelings invading your body and mind. You looked up and there he was, still there, sleeping pleasantly, barely knowing what had just happened. You hurriedly wiped away the last tear running down your cheek and sat back down, putting your feet up on the couch, unable to take your eyes off him. Perhaps those thoughts were drawn from his most desperate moments, believing that his life was about to come to an end, perhaps he was unwilling to show them to you now that he had resumed the course of his life, so even though it was not possible you tried to send them to a hidden place in your mind.

You had hardly slept in those three weeks, your mind hadn't rested for days and you didn't know why, but finding yourself curled up in that armchair next to Tony was giving you back the tranquillity your body hadn't known for too long. It was impossible to stop your eyelids from closing, on the contrary you were willing them to do so and for sleep to warmly invade your body, no matter how long you could stay asleep. That's how it happened, making the hours pass without you even noticing. 

Like a little gust of wind, something in your body made the light enter through your eyelashes. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling in various parts of your body a tightness due to the position in which you had fallen asleep in that armchair. You discovered that a woollen blanket covered your limbs, but what kept you alert was the bed next to you was completely empty. Tony wasn't there. You jumped up, looking around, the bedroom door was ajar and Iron Man's helmet was missing.

"Tony?" you asked, raising your voice, stepping out into the hallway. "Tony! Where are you?"

You barely heard an answer, so you were thankful those powers were within you, you stopped in the middle of the corridor and closed your eyes, your receptors picked up a signal coming from downstairs, it was him. You found him leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes closed as he tried to stand. You ran to him, grabbing his arm to hold him up.

"What do you think you're doing?" you said, leading him to the nearest armchair in the living room.

You discovered that he had shaved, taken a shower and was wearing one of his Tom Ford suits that were so recognisable to you. That meant he had been wandering around the house unsupervised for over an hour without waking you up. You knelt down next to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked with a worried look on your face as you contemplated that he was extremely tired. "Bruce gave a set of instructions for you to follow, you can't just walk around..."

"It was your turn?" he cut you off with an angry tone. "Be my babysitter? How did you do it? Did you draw lots?" his countenance was serious, you could still see the puffiness in his eyes and his face fully dehydrated. "Whoever draws the shortest stick gets to look after poor Stark, all right, listen..."

"No! You listen to me," you cut him off, raising your tone above his, standing up and resting your hands on each armrest "Tony, we all lost. We all fought and lost, none of us made it," your face was three feet above his. "So now all we can do is try, in some completely illogical way, to move the situation forward. And if we can't, at least look to the future by doing our best to honour those we have lost."

Silence flooded over you.

"So please don't make the situation more complicated," you continued, lowering your tone, almost begging him. "If I've stayed with you it's because Steve has made me understand some things, because yes, it wasn't really my intention to stay with you from the start, but then I realised that if anyone had to stay with you it was me. I realised that if I had to risk my life again I didn't want to go on the mission, because that would mean never seeing you again.And I've also realised that I've needed you for a long time, that I'm finally by your side and I have no intention of separating from you. Whether you like it or not." Tony cut his gaze with yours by ducking it, but brought his right hand over yours.

That gesture provoked you to bring your other hand to his face, placing a gentle caress on his cheek.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but one thing we do have is time," you explained as Tony intertwined his fingers with yours. "So please, don't do anything more stupid and don't disappear," maybe it was the atmosphere generated by the situation, but you risked saying the next words. "Because it will always be you."

Tony closed his eyes a little regretfully, a little embarrassedly, and brought his free hand to his face.

"I knew you saw that," he added calmly removing his hand from his face. "Well, at least I've saved myself from having to repeat it in person."

"I'm not sure I got it right," you said falsely. "You know, there was a lot of interference, and besides, I couldn't really understand what you were saying, so..."

"Sorry, there was only one pass for the film," he said wryly which caused you to smile widely as you rediscovered that the old Tony was still hidden in it. "We won't know when there will be a revival."

"Too bad, I really liked that movie," you sat down on the armrest without letting go of his hand and looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked for the first time modestly, and putting aside all the irony that surrounded the situation.

"Totally," you nodded, trying to express all the many feelings through your eyes.

Silence again kept you company, until Tony somewhat uncomfortably broke it.

"I suppose you know that by now I would have kissed you and created a fully effective plan to make love to you for hours until you begged me to stop in pleasure," he stated lamely, "although I think if you give me a couple of hours..."

"All right, Don Juan," you cut him off with a chuckle, "we'd better leave all that for later, and I'll take you back to bed now."

"I think it's a good start if you take me to bed," he continued with his insinuations.

You got up from the armrest and helped him put his arm around your shoulders, even though he repeatedly told you he could walk unaided. 

"Have we heard from the team?" he asked, slowly climbing the steps of the ladder.

"Soon," you said with a halo of hope. 

You definitely made it back to the room, having made it successfully through the journey. You helped him get rid of the shoes and shirt that his pride had forced him to wear, but which now made no sense when he was going back to bed.

"See, you're finally going to get what you wanted, I'm undressing you," you said jokingly causing a smile to appear on Tony's face as he lay back down. "You rest, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

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[madampianoo]

Hey guys 💖 Here's Zlatans latest FULL interview with France Football. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did. This was such tasty appetiser before tomorrows main course meal match and start of his new season.

P.S. Please excuse english, it was google translated

Have you ever found your stolen Fido Dido ?

"Not. They stole it and I never saw it again. But maybe it was cosmic justice for all the bikes I stole. It's a pity, it was my favorite bike ... "

If you could find the one who stole it from you now, what would you do to it?

"I would buy him a new one and take mine back."

You devoted a lot of space to that story in your autobiography. Was it a turning point in your life to move from the role of victim to the other side?

"No. I was young and stupid. I did all sorts of things to survive. I needed a bike to ride here and there. When they stole my bike, I started stealing them from others. I did it solely for the reason that I could not afford to buy others. I know it's not a positive story ... But things like that are done to move forward in life, right? ”

What would you steal from football today if you could and give it to little Zlatan ?

"Nothing. I would just tell him to be more patient. And that his hard work will return one day. I worked hard, but I didn’t have the patience. I wanted everything now. "

How did you learn to be patient?

"It's very difficult when you're young. But when you have the experience I have now, learn what patience is. But when you are young and wild, full of various ideas and energy, when you want to discover the whole world and learn everything at once, then it is not easy to be patient. You need to be surrounded by people who have experience, who will calm you down and who will tell you the truth. "

What will be left behind Zlatan Ibrahimovic when he finishes his career?

"I do not know. Something will remain ... If something remains, it means I did a good job. Maybe some of my ideas and thoughts will remain from everything. That you should believe in yourself, that you should have your own personality and that you should not refrain from saying something you think. "

Did you make mistakes?

"I make mistakes every day. I am making a mistake now that I am talking about your newspaper. "

Maybe we're making a mistake talking to you too ...

"I'm kidding ... Mistakes are normal, we make them every day and they help us to be better people. "No one is perfect."

What are you most proud of?

"Everything I did. I come from a place where everyone condemned me and told me that something was impossible. I was constantly told that I was not good enough. And I'm still here. I stand still in my football boots. At 39 years old. And I'm proud of that. "

Could you have done more than this?

"It can always be more and better. It's a question of mentality. "

Even you?

"Every person can do better and more. In my head I always aim for the maximum and I am always convinced that I have given the maximum. Could I have done better, that can be discussed ... "    

Do you ever get tired of the attention of the public, journalists, fans, everyone's opinions?

"It's all part of my job. I didn't choose it that way. When you are as good as me, that is inevitable and must be accepted. "

How do you comment on the claims of some that you are a great player in small games?

"Everyone has the right to an opinion and to express it."

Did that bother you when you were younger?

"Not. I used it as a propellant to be as good as possible. I was motivated by such stories. I went forward and looked to never be satisfied. I received all these criticisms in such a way as to ignite the fire in my heart and to extract additional energy from them. "

What do you regret?

"It simply came to our notice then. Do you really think that I would be a better football player if I won all the trophies? "

Not. Even the Brazilian Ronaldo did not win everything ...

"Exactly. Of course, it would be wonderful if I won everything. But that doesn't make me a weaker or better footballer. I like guys who say to me: 'Zlatan, you didn't win the World Cup, you're not a good player'. Okay ... But it's easier to win the World Cup when you're French than when you're Swedish. Let's go back to the Champions League. The longer you wait for it, the sweeter it is. I still have a goal to win it. I won everything but her in club football. But I won't quack even if I don't win it because I've already done a lot more than most footballers. I'm a happy man. "

You didn't even win the Golden Ball. Does Zlatan miss the Golden Ball or does the Golden Ball miss Zlatan ?

"I think they miss me there on that list of conquerors."

You finished in fourth place in terms of the number of votes in 2013, and that is your best ranking. Is it weird that you didn't win it?

"You see, every player wants a trophy that tells him he is the best in the world. Deep down, I think I'm the best in the world. It would be prestigious if I won it, but it is the voters who decide. You journalists are voting and you know why I didn't win it! Ha-ha-ha ... ”

Well, it's not just us from France, there are also journalists from all over the world ...

"A-ha-ha!"

Messi and Ronaldo have won it several times. What do they have that you don't have?

"If you talk about essential qualities, I have nothing less than them. If you look at the trophies, I didn't win the Champions League like them ... But I really don't know how you measure and calculate that. Nor am I obsessed with it. You see, when you do good collective things, then individual rewards are a consequence of that. An individual cannot be good if the collective is weak. "

Where do you see yourself in the history of football? If there was a table, where would you put yourself?

"What do you want me to answer you?"

Who would be next to you on that table?

"It is not relevant to compare players from different eras. Everyone played in their generation, with different teammates. These are difficult things to compare. Everyone has their own story, and mine is full of problems. "

Does your personality set you apart in the world of football?

"I am just what I am. People try hard to be ideal to others. I always say ‘Be what you are and that is perfection’. I will not change because of success. For no reason will I change. Whatever happens, I will be what I am. I just want to play my game and have my team win. The rest will come of its own accord. I didn't choose to be famous. It's just a consequence of the work I do. "

We thought about jumping out of the pattern and what you're doing on the field.

"But it's all connected to the field. People talk a lot off the field today. But if you're not good on the field, and you talk a lot, then you're just a clown. "

Are there many clowns in the world of football?

"As much as you want ... A bunch!"

You consider yourself ideal in your head because you are what you are. How do you know this is right?

"I don't want to be perfect to someone else by force and talk about how I don't make mistakes. Maybe all this is a mistake. But I will remain what I am. I don't want you to send me questions before the interview, I don't want to know what you're going to ask me, I don't care. Readers will judge us whether the interview is good or not. "

When you left Paris Saint-Germain, you said, 'I came like a lion, I leave like a king . ' Do you really care so much about being remembered?

"I wrote my story in Paris and left my motto. Now let someone else write it and leave your motto. I don’t try to make people remember me by what I say. He will remember me on the field and what I did there. "

Are you arrogant or pretentious?

"I'm just a man full of confidence."

Does it matter to you that they recognize you as special?

"I am not special. I am a normal guy and a professional. I don’t want to share my whole life with the rest of the world. I'm not an instagram clown who wakes up in the morning and thinks what is the most beautiful photo for him to post. I share my professional challenges with the rest of the world. Privacy must exist. I don't want to share it either. But I want to share some parts of my professional life because it's part of my job. "

Do you deliberately block the fragility and insecurity from your childhood with your behavior, when the fierce guys in your Rosengard called you "lukewarm"?

"No. And I have a part of the personality that is fragile. I have emotions and weaknesses. There are things that hurt me. It's all natural. I'm not the Hulk, I'm not Superman, nor have I ever wanted to play them. I had difficult moments that hardened me, but I stepped forward. Today, I am no longer a guy of 20 or 25, but a family man with two children. I think differently, but my character has remained the same. "

Are you still a fierce guy at 40?

"People, is it possible that you still consider me a football gangster?" I know you had that title and some picture ... I'm no gangster. Of course I'm still a strong guy. I am almost two meters tall and I train hard and work on myself every day. I'm not someone who lies on the beach and shows muscles. I was born like this and I try to adapt the game to my constitution. I'm not as fast as I was at the age of 25, but now I have some other qualities. "

Does that mean you're a good guy?

"Yes I am. When you meet me, you will see how much heart I have. When they don't know me, people hate me. "

Do you want to be loved by everyone?

"No. I just want to be respected when I do something good. In fact, what is the love of all? There can be no love from someone I don't even know. Love is something reserved for those closest to you. Take Inter fans for example. When I was with them, they loved me. Now they hate me. This means that love has never been as real as with loved ones. Love cannot arise and disappear so quickly. I'm not one of those guys who will organize humanitarian actions just for someone to tell them: 'Wow, he's a good guy!'. It's a 'fake'. I'm going to do something because I want to do it. And not because someone would like me. I do it with my heart, some do it with my brain. If I send money to hospitals, it doesn't have to be known. I'm doing this because they really need that money with this damn crown. And I will not brag publicly. "

Is that one of the worst things in football today?

"It's simply part of football. People want to have perfect images. But in the end, they will meet reality. Everything will be known. Look at Tiger Woods. It seemed to be the most perfect character in the world ... People, just be what you are and don't try to be someone else. Don’t manipulate because it will all come back to you. No filters! ”

When you learned the Swedish national anthem, did you do it from the heart, not to be loved in your own country?

"When I was little, I didn't feel like a Swede. My parents are from Bosnia and Croatia. They influenced me to feel different, to look at me differently, to judge me differently and to treat me differently. That's why I didn't feel 100 percent Swedish. But today I am 100 percent Swedish. Even in France today, many talk about some old France and old times. The world today is full of various mixes and contrasts. And it doesn’t mean you’re not 100 percent Swedish or French if you accept that world. When you are young, you do not understand some things. It is mentally difficult when you are treated differently as a child. People think that it will pass quickly, and they do not know that the consequences remain for years. I was always in favor of getting the strongest blow at once because the pain lasts less than being constantly harassed with small and vile blows. Constant harassment leaves longer traumas. But those people who are harassing do not know that they are backward and live in the old world while we pass in front of them with the new world. It is a world of open minds in which I am Swedish and in which my children are Swedes. "

Do you still think differently from LeBron James, with whom you used to be friends?

"I do not want to enter politics because it divides people. Football unites people. I was lucky to meet people I would never have met without football. From all over the world. "Sport and politics are two different worlds and I am glad to be in the former."

But it happens that you express an attitude that has to do with politics.

"We athletes spread love and joy. I'm good at it and I know how to do it. You will not bring politics into my world. "

What are your fears and anxieties?

"With this corona situation, the world has changed completely. The situation is improving a bit, but ... The other day I went out to a restaurant with my family. It was weird. Then cam video audience in stadiums. And that was weird to me. I got used to it and I only wanted one thing: To go home ?! I'm used to the house, the masks ... It won't be easy to come back mentally. I hope that everything will be the same as before, but I am afraid that this will leave consequences on people. "

When you became a parent, did your children bring fears?

"There is no room for fear when we talk about children. We can talk about weaknesses. When you have children, they become your weakness. Then your life is no longer in your hands but in theirs. They become the most important ... Guys, we missed the interview date! I won't give you any more! I'm too expensive to tell you so much, ha-ha-ha ... "

How expensive are you?

"A lot ... Ask PSG!"

Can I have another five, ten minutes?

"Come on."

We would like to ask you about retirement. Are you afraid to stop playing football?

"A little bit. It is difficult for every football player when he has to retire. You have been programmed throughout your career. It is known when you get up, have breakfast, train, have lunch, rest, have dinner ... Someone else takes care of everything, it's just yours to press the 'repeat' button every day. The first day you wake up at the end of your playing career, you ask yourself, 'What the hell am I going to do today?' You are no longer programmed and you do not know what to do. That scares me a little. But what should I do? Luckily, I don’t think about it yet. I'm not for retirement. "

We in France call it the ‘little death’.

"That's it! Absolutely! After a lot depends on what kind of person you are. How will you cope and how will you fight. It's not easy".

But isn't that some kind of relief? You can eat and drink whatever you want

"After my playing career, I want to disappear. When you are in this world like me for so long and you know what you have been through physically and mentally, you just need to disappear and enjoy life

[the-ice-sculpture]

Loki Episode 1 initial reaction

Mixed opinions so far. I could write an entire essay on this, and maybe I will at some point, but here are my initial thoughts, starting with the negative:

I really despised the first twenty minutes. It’s so jarring. Loki’s dialogue, especially, doesn’t sound anything like Avengers!Loki. His speech patterns and entire dialect are suddenly different, much more modern and filled with too many Earth-specific terms with no explanation. There’s no easing the viewer into the difference, it’s just suddenly there and it’s horrendously whiplashy

The same applies to the presentation of his character. Avengers!Loki was grandiose and majestic and witty, even when he was being defeated. This Loki... isn’t. He comes across as juvenile, bumbling, over the top in more of a cringey way, and he’s the butt of the jokes that rely on his humiliation. He doesn’t feel like the same character from any of the movies to me, or, at least, not for the first twenty minutes

With the desert scene... Yes, it bugged me that his hair was suddenly shorter and didn’t just look like a messed up version of Avengers!Loki’s hair. And it also bugged me that Loki didn’t understand what the humans were saying in a different language. Was the Allspeak not working? Or if Allspeak doesn’t exist in the MCU, are we supposed to believe he studied the English language or that Asgard and Earth happen to share a common language?

I wanted Loki to put up more of a fight. I don’t mind him being defeated by people more powerful than him, but it felt like he resigned too quickly and allowed himself to be shoved around by them too soon. I wanted him to struggle more, it felt weird for him not to try harder to go all death and destruction and for it to not require more pain inflicted on him to get him to (reluctantly) go along with it

The humour in this show didn’t do it for me. It felt out of place and not even particularly funny to begin with. Yeah, yeah, I get it, they want their show to be irreverent and zany, whatever draws in the largest audience, right? But if they were going to go for that style of humour, it could be done so much better than how they did it here. And I’m reiterating please just let Loki be witty, please

Once it got to the part where Loki’s watching himself on the screen, everything got a lot more palatable for me and the last half has made me more hopeful

I’m liking Mobius so far. He actually tries to understand Loki and listens to him. He has empathy but he isn’t going to let Loki walk all over him either. Mobius sort of feels like a guide for viewers who are unfamiliar with analysing Loki’s character and not taking him at surface level, and he asks some of the right questions. I want to see where they’re going with Mobius and Loki’s dynamic

From the instant I saw Loki watching himself in the trailer, I was hoping he’d learn about his hand in Frigga’s death and his own death, and we got that! And more! We also got Odin's death and Loki and Thor’s reconciliation. I liked that they gave it time for the emotional impact to hit, this was the part that started giving me hope again. This was the first time when Loki’s character felt actually recognisable to me. Also, yes, I did enjoy the ouchies

The whole D.B. Cooper thing didn’t feel like something that Thor 1!Loki would have done in his past. It just didn’t. When I saw that in the trailer, I was hoping it’d be a variant Loki or our Loki having to be in disguise or something, but nope, it’s supposed to be part of our Loki’s past

Neat. By the sounds of it, Mobius will be ‘hiring’ Loki to help him catch a Loki variant. I was hoping for that and the play of Loki’s worst enemy being himself

He escaped faster than I thought the show would let him. I mean, he isn’t all the way out yet, and I don’t think he will be, but still, at least he managed to do something and tried to put up more of a fight. I’m still surprised there were no deaths though

The whole ‘we use Infinity Stones as paperweights’ thing... I get that they’re trying to establish the TVA as a more powerful entity than any we’ve come across in the entire universe, but at what point do you stop keeping having to one up the power of what’s already been established in the MCU? This isn’t so much a criticism as it is something I find interesting as a discussion point

On the bright side, at least most of the stuff I didn’t like in the trailers is out of the way now

I was hoping to come to a more solid conclusion about whether or not I’ll like the show after the first episode, but I’m still undecided. It’s so frustrating because a lot of the issues with it could have been so easily fixed. It’s set straight after Avengers Assemble, therefore Loki should feel like Avengers!Loki. I don’t know why that’s controversial. Just look at Avengers!Loki’s speech patterns and apply them! How hard could that have been? Even if they wanted more ‘accessible’ dialogue for him (and, yes, I’m tired of the anti-intellectual trend these days), they could have gradually eased him from the more Shakespearesque stuff to the dialect he has in Ragnarok, and that could have had an in-universe explanation of him picking up language/assimilating or whatever. But they didn’t. Just, bam, it’s different now because we said so and we don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. I’m so tired of things being constantly retconned and I still don’t know if I have the energy to justify it to myself to myself anymore.

But yeah, I think there’s a good chance of the worst being out of the way now. Could be famous last words, but my hope hasn’t been completely destroyed. The first half really didn’t sit well with me at all, but the latter half was far better, even if it wasn’t perfect.

And I’m sure I’ll think of a bunch of things I should have added to this list straight after posting, but oh well.

[olderthannetfic]

Hey, sorry to ask this, but a few days ago I saw a post/discussion about the history of original work on ao3 (i.e. how and when it was allowed). I thought it was in my likes, but it's not, and I thought you had reblogged it recently, but I didn't find it. I was wondering if you have seen this discussion around? Or where I can find more about it? This specific post talked abt how who defended original work on ao3 were not the BNFs, if that helps.

That was me running my mouth in the reblogs of something or other. It’s just the one comment.

But what’s that you say? Some tl;dr about a pet topic? Don’t mind if I do! ;) (To be honest, most of this debate happened years ago, and a lot of the long meta was by me back then too, so…)

Okay, so, the situation with Original Works is actually super interesting and a microcosm of early years OTW wank.

This is going to be even more tl;dr than my usual. To try to summarize very briefly:

There were two big cultural factions. One thought “original” was the opposite of “fan”. That one was in charge of OTW. It was hard to get voices from the other side into the debate because they already felt excluded from OTW.

This divide broke down more or less into Ye Olde Slash Fandom on the “it’s the opposite” side and anime fandom on the “WTF?” side. Americans on one side and a lot of non-US, non-English language fandom on the other.

I. Media Fandom, Anime Fandom, and Early OTW

I went to that first fundraising party that astolat threw in New York City back in… god… 2007? 2008? I wasn’t on the Board or any official position until the committees got started later, but I was around right from the very beginning.

Whether you’re looking at volunteers or at people who commented on astolat’s original post, there were always a variety of fans from a variety of fannish backgrounds. People aren’t absolutely in one camp or another, and fannish interests change over time. If you go dig through Dreamwidth posts to find who was actually participating in this debate at the time, half of them are probably in the other camp now.

If you think like that sounds like a preamble to me making a bunch of offensively sweeping generalizations and divvying fans up into little groups, you’d be right! Haha.

I.a. Ye Olde Media Fandom

There are a lot of camps of people who like fanfic. One of the biggest divisions has been Ye Olde Media Fandom vs. anime fandom. Astolat’s social circle–my LJ social circle–was filled with people with decades of fannish experience and a deep knowledge of the Media Fandom side of things.

Those fandom history treatises that start with K/S zines in Star Trek fandom in the 70s and move on through the mainstream buddy cops like Starsky & Hutch to the more niche, sff buddy cops like Fraser and Ray or Jim and Blair are talking about Media Fandom. I try to always capitalize it because the name is lulzy and bizarre to me unless it’s a proper noun for a specific historical thing. It was coined as a rude term for “mass media” fandom aka dumb people who like, ughhhh, Star Trek, ughhh, instead of books. This is a very ancient slapfight from the type of fandom you find at Worldcon, often called “SF fandom” or plain “fandom”.

(Yes, this leads to mega confusion on the part of some old dudes when they find Fanlore and fail to understand that “fandom” there refers to what these people would call “Media Fandom”. They think only they get the unmarked form. But I digress…)

Media Fandom is a specific flavor of fandom. It’s where the slash zines were. It’s where the fans of live action US TV shows were. It’s the history that acafans have laid out well and that tends to get used to defend the idea of a female subculture writing transgressive and transformative fanfic. On the video side, Media Fandom is where Kandy Fong invented vidding by making Star Trek slideshows.

(Kandy’s still around, BTW. She’s usually at Escapade in L.A. Ask her to tell you about the dancing penises sketch in person. She’s hilarious.)

Astolat and friends had been going to slash cons for years. They founded Vividcon. And Yuletide. That meant that when astolat said “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!” we all jumped to help. This is a lady who gets things done.

From a Worldcon perspective, or even from an older Media Fandom perspective, this group was comparatively young, hip, and welcoming. Their fandom interests were comparatively broad. Just look at Yuletide!

In fact, yes, let us look at Yuletide… [ominous music]

I.b. Yuletide sucks at anime

From the very first year (2003), Yuletide mods have asked for help with anime fandoms, been confused about anime fandoms, or made bad judgment calls about anime fandoms. They’ve fucked up on Superhero comics and plenty of other things over the years, but anime has been the most consistent (well, and JRPGs, but there’s so much overlap in those fic fandoms).

There was already bad feeling about this. There were years of bad feeling about this.

I.c. Where are the historians?

Academic study of fanficcy things pretty much got started with Textual Poachers and Enterprising Women. Other acafans who are well known to LJ and later Tumblr are people like Francesca Coppa who wrote a very nice summary of the history of Media Fandom. These are not the only academics who exist, these academics themselves have written about many other things, and by now, OTW’s own journal has covered a lot of other territory, but to this day I see complaints on Tumblr that “acafans” only care about K/S and oldschool slash fandom.

There were years of bad feeling about this as well.

I.d. What kind of fan was I?

Now, by the time OTW got started, I’d moseyed over to not only a lot of live action US TV but a lot of old-as-fuck US TV that is squarely in the Media Fandom camp. But once upon a time, I was a weeaboo hanging out with my weeaboo friends in college. I learned Japanese (sort of). I moved to Japan. Livin’ the weeaboo dream!

More importantly, I used to be a member of a lot of anime mailing lists back in the Yahoo Groups days. I didn’t realize what a cultural gap that would cause until the original works issue came up on AO3.

I.e. Anime Fandom, German-language Fandom, Original M/M

Once upon a time–namely in that Yahoo Groups era–there was an archive called Boys in Chains. It was where you found The Good Stuff™. Heavy kink and power exchange galore! It was extremely well known in the parts of fandom I was in, even if you weren’t on the associated mailing list. It contained lots of fic, but it also had lots of original work.

Around that same era, I was on a critique list called Crimson Ink, which was mixed fic and original. The “original slash” and “original yaoi” crowds mixed freely and were in fanfic spaces. Remember, this is like 2003. You’re never going to get your gay fantasy novel published in English in the US. A couple of fangirl presses started around then, but they died an ignominious death after their first print run.

Fanfiction.net used to allow original work before it spun that off into FictionPress. We forget this today, but if you were an early FFN person, the separation wasn’t so great either.

Meanwhile, German-language fandom was hanging out on sites like Animexx.de, a big-ass fic archive that prominently mentions also including original work. I have the impression that Spanish-language fandom was similar too.

Shousetsu Bang*Bang was founded in 2005. It was a webzine for original m/m, but it was entirely populated by fanfic fandom types.

In all of those kinds of spaces, there was a lot of “original” work that was kind of slash or BL-ish and seen as fannish if it was posted in the fannish space. These weren’t anime-only spaces. They were multifandom spaces where it was seen as obvious and normal that a couple of huge fandoms like Harry Potter would dominate but that everything else big would naturally be anime.

While fans from every background are everywhere, I found that the concentration of EFL fans living in Continental Europe, South America, and Asia was much higher in this kind of space, even the exclusively English language part of it, than in my US TV fandoms.

II. AO3 Early Adopters

AO3 went into closed beta in 2009. In 2010, it was open to the general public (albeit with the invitation queue it still has). But not everyone was interested yet. Just like fandom is loath to leave the dying, shambling mess of Tumblr, fandom was loath to leave dwindling LJ/DW circles or was happy enough on Fanfiction.net. I used to see a lot of posts like “Why are you guys trying to STEAL fanfic from the original! FFN is enough!”

I literally could not give away the invitations I had. No one wanted them.

So who was on AO3? Obviously enough, it was all of us who built it and our friends. So that means a bunch of oldschool Livejournal slashers coming from fandoms like Due South or Stargate Atlantis.

The queue was open. Anyone could make an account. Everyone was welcome. In theory…

But more and more, there started to be these posts about how “AO3 Hates Anime Fandom” and “FFN is for anime. AO3 is for Western fandoms.” and “If you guys actually wanted anime fandom on there, you’d invite us better and make us more welcome.”

At the time, I found these posts obnoxious. People aren’t purely in one sort of fandom or the other. No one was stopping anime fandom from making accounts. No one was banning anime fandom. If there wasn’t much from old fandoms, that was because old fandoms seldom move.

Things began to change. Trolls on FFN forced the Twilight porn writers out, creating enough fuss and brouhaha to mobilize people who would rather have stayed put. AO3 got big enough that randos found it by accident. Original work started to pop up, posted by people who’d never looked at the rules and had no idea it was not allowed.

III. History of AO3’s Policy

I had argued for allowing “original work” during the initial discussions about the ToS. On one side of this issue was me. On the other, everyone else on the committee.

I was overruled.

Open Door started importing old archives to save them. Boys in Chains was hugely important to fandom history from my point of view. It was slated to be imported… maybe. Except that Boys in Chains is half original. AO3 was happy to grandfather in those stories, but the final archive owner felt, quite rightly, that it would be unfair to tell half of the authors they were welcome in the new space while spitting on the other half.

I was pissed. I had been pissed since being overruled the first time. To me, the fact that it should be allowed was so blatantly obvious that it was hard to even explain why.

(To be honest, this difficulty in explaining why and the even greater difficulty in figuring out the source of that difficulty is what held the discussion back for so long. When every assumption on either side is completely opposite, it’s hard to communicate.)

I felt betrayed. It would be like if you helped build something, and everyone was suddenly like “Well, obviously, we can’t allow m/m. It’s not normal fanfic.”

So we discussed it again and, again, it was me vs. literally everyone else. And still the “AO3 is only for Western slash fandom” bitching rose in volume and more and more people complained of feeling excluded from the new fandom hub. Finally, the committee agreed to open the issue up for public comment and get some more input. I was a fool and neither wrote nor proofread the post. It went out phrasing the question as allowing “non fannish” work or something of that sort.

I was furious. The entire point of the whole debate was that I saw some original work, the original work that belongs on AO3, as inherently fannish. And now this had been presented to the AO3 audience as something completely different. Think pieces were popping up in the journals of everyone I knew about diluting AO3’s mission and how we needed to save AO3 from encroachment. Public opinion was very negative. That’s both because of how the post was phrased and because OTW die hards at the time were mostly from the same fannish background. This tidal wave of negativity meant that there was virtually no chance of changing this poisonous rule. And if the rule didn’t change, the people who wanted the rule change were never going to show up to explain why it mattered.

If you’ve been reading my tumblr, I think you can guess what happened next.

I posted a long post to my Dreamwidth. It was a masterwork of passive aggression. In it, I wrung my hands about how simply tragic it would be if AO3 had to delete all of the original work… like anthropomorfic.

Now, I think anthropomorfic counts as fanfic as much as anything else, but I also knew that it fails most rigorous “based on a canon” type definitions of fic and, more importantly, it’s a favorite Yuletide fandom of many of the people on the side that wanted to ban original work.

That’s a nice fandom of yours. It would be a pity if something happened to it. 

Yup. Passive aggressive blackmail. Go me. Suddenly, there was a lot of awkward backtracking and confused running in circles in various journals. The committee agreed to table the idea for a while but not rule out the idea of allowing original works in the future. We agreed to halt all deletions of original work. If a fan posted it, the Abuse Committee (which I was also head of at the time) would not delete that work even though it was technically against the rules.

Time passed. The people on the negative side got tired. I wanted off that committee and had wanted off for ages, but I was damned if I was going to leave before ramming through this piece of policy. Grudgematch till I die! (Look, I never said I wasn’t a wanker.)

After a while, some other fans came forward with more types of “original work” as evidence that it should be allowed. These were from parts of fandom none of us on the committee knew a damn thing about.

This new evidence combined with the gradual accretion of original stuff on AO3 without the sky falling eventually led us to quietly rule Original Work a valid fandom. There was never even a big announcement post. I slipped a word to the Boys in Chains mod myself.

IV. What Were They So Afraid Of Anyway?

So why were people so resistant? Seems like a dick move, right?

Not exactly.

I mean, I was enraged and waged a one-woman war to change the rules, but the other side wasn’t nuts. The objections were usually the following:

I just don’t get why it would be allowed. It never was in my fannish spaces.

Most of our members don’t want this.

Most of the examples of things that ought to be included are m/m. We are privileging m/m if we allow it, and AO3 already has a m/m-centric reputation that can feel exclusionary to some fans.

AO3 is a young, shaky platform that can barely handle the load and content we already have. If we open to original work, we’ll be opening the floodgates. The volume of posting will be so high, it will drown out the fic we’re actually here to protect.

Protecting stuff that doesn’t need protection because it’s not an IP issue would dilute OTW’s mission.

If we allow it, idiots will try to turn AO3 into advertising space, posting only the first chapter and a link to where you can pay to read the rest.

If we add another category of text before we add fan art, that’s a slap in the face of the fan artists we are already failing.

These arguments all make perfect sense in context.

Obvously, the issue with the first two is that different fannish communities have different norms. I knew that a very large community disagreed with the then current AO3 policy, but since so few of them were around to comment, it seemed like a tiny fringe minority.

The m/m thing is… complex. M/M content with zero IP issues is at risk. It is always at risk in a way that even f/f is not (though f/f is also always at risk). Asking for m/m to be exactly equivalent to f/f or m/f in numbers, tropes, whatever is ignoring the historical realities. In our current moment of queer activism in the West, we treat all types of queerness as part of one community with one set of goals, but once you get to culture and art or even more specific activism, this forced homogenization is neither useful nor healthy.

OTOH, AO3 really did have PR problems related to the perception that we gave m/m fandom the kid glove treatment. That objection wasn’t coming from nowhere.

AO3 was shaky. It was tiny when I first brought up this argument. Hell, it wasn’t even in closed beta the first time we discussed this. Part of what made the quiet rules change possible was AO3 organically getting much bigger and OTW having to buy many more servers for unrelated reasons.

The “floodgates” thing was put to rest by tacitly allowing original work before the rules change. We had a period to study how fans actually behaved, and as I predicted, only a small amount of original work got posted. It was indeed mostly things like original BL-ish stories or original work that had been part of a mixed original/fic fest, exchange, zine, etc. Currently, the “Original Work” fandom on AO3 only has 76,348 works. That’s pretty big compared to individual fandoms but tiny compared to AO3’s current size.

The commercial argument was spurious because commercial spam had been against the rules from the very beginning. OH THE IRONY that nowadays AO3 has all these idiots trying to post the first chapter of their fanfic and then direct you to where you can buy the rest.

AO3 has plenty of fanfic of public domain works. One of the problems with gatekeeping original work is that any way you try to distinguish it (not based on a specific canon, not an IP issue, etc.) will apply to some set of obviously allowable fandoms.

As for fan art… OTW has failed fan artists. They needed protection as much as or even more than fic writers. Just look at Tumblr! If we had succeeded at making DeviantArt but allowing boners, fan art fandom could have been safe all these years. Or when Tumblr inevitably shat the bed, we could have scooped up all those people instead of them scattering to twitter and god knows where.

OTW has failed vidders too, at least in terms of preservation. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this. Other major people from like the first Board and shit have discussed this with me offline. Doing some kind of vidding project, possibly outside of OTW is on a lot of our to-do lists. But at least one of OTW’s biggest victories has been that copyright exemption. OTW has demonstrably done really positive things for vidders that other organizations and sites have not. As a vidder, I never expected to see good hosting for the actual video files, and I’m quite content.

But fan artists… yeah. That argument makes sense at least from a place of frustration.

BTW, for the love of god, if you’re a n00b to OTW stuff, please do not reblog this post excitedly telling me that hosting fan art is on OTW’s road map, so yay, good news. Someone always does that, and it’s so irritating. I haven’t been involved in OTW in years, but I used to be, and I know what is on the roadmap. The couple of you who do heavy lifting on sysadmin and coding and policy things are welcome to weigh in as usual. I know none of us like that we can’t host fan art. It’s not what we intended.

Nonetheless, I found this argument to be the perfect being the enemy of the good. If we can save more text now without losing much of anything, we should do it. The fact that we’re fucking up on the fan art front is not a reason to spread the misery around.

V. Is “Original” the Opposite of “Fanfic”?

Okay, so that tl;dr above is why “BNFs” were on one side and “nobodies” were on the other. BNFs from one cultural background founded OTW. BNFs from the other cultural background weren’t even aware that the debate was going on.

But what was the underlying philosophical problem in even having the conversation?

It took me a long time, but I finally worked it out: We had two completely different ways of categorizing writing, and they were so baked into how we phrased questions that everything ended up being unanswerable to the other side. Here is what I came up with:

Schema 1

Fanfic - based on someone else’s IP

Original Work - the opposite

Schema 2

Non-Fannish Work - School essays, stories you are writing to try to sell to a mainstream publisher

Fannish Work Type 1 - based on other people’s characters directly (i.e. fanfic) Type 2 - based on tropes or whatever (“original slash” and the like)

Now, in the current moment when half of Tumblr just got into Chinese webnovels and the m/m ebook industry is thriving in English, original, tropey, BL-ish work is no longer different from “things I am trying to sell”. But this is how the divide was circa 2005 on fannish websites, and it’s the divide that was driving this internal OTW debate.

VI. Let’s Summarize the Camps One More Time

So, again, the debate makes perfect sense if you understand who was involved.

On the mainstream “But that’s not fanfic? I’m confused?” side:

Big US TV fandoms in English

Fandom historians of K/S–>buddy cop slash–>SGA, etc.

Americans

On the other side:

Anime fandom

“Original slash” fandom that had already been chased off of everywhere

People upset that AO3 wasn’t farther on translating the interface and supporting non-English language fandom.

People upset about US-centrism in fandom

Yes, I am very white, very American, and by now very into old buddy cop shows, but this was basically how the breakdown worked. It meant that something that looked like a minor quibble to one side was really, really not.

[nightcoremoon]

weird opinion but christians aren't religious.

ok so like, jews generally follow god's rules, muslims follow allah's rules, hindus probably follow their gods rules, so on and so forth. and overall they do it out of faith; they do it because they want to honor the deity who loves them rather than because society forces them to.

granted the zionists and the radical extremists and the zealots do exist but as loud minorities and thus are statistical outliers & don't matter.

christians are... a different breed.

"if you aren't x branch and dont obey y rules you'll go to hell so we'll fucking murder you" is pretty much the main driving force behind a significant portion of christianity in history. the catholics, the protestants, the orthodoxy, all are built on a foundation of fear, anger, and hatred. it's shaped the way society developed; in the 4 nations that did the most genocidal imperialist colonialism- England, France, Spain, and Italy- a combination of convenient coastal locations, naval prowess, military tendency, christianity, and ultranationalism lead them down a path of missionaries, holding bibles in one hand and bloodstained knives in the other. the religion is inseparable from the culture and inseparable from the horrible things done in the name of their god, and the resulting cancers of society we feel today from the campaigns of slaughter. xenophobia. capitalism. savage barbarism via sensationalized capitol punishment. misogyny. queerphobia. gender fascism. classism. racism. all of these issues in the "civilized world" stem predominantly from those four nations and the disease ridden pestilent filth some call pilgrims.

here's something interesting:

there are less than 1 million rastafari in the world.

there are less than 5 million shinto in the world.

there are less than 25 million jews in the world.

there are less than 30 million sikhs in the world.

there are roughly 100 million african cultural religious adherents in the world.

there are less than 400 million chinese cultural religious adherents in the world.

there are about 500 million buddhists in the world.

there are about 1.1 billion hindus in the world.

there are about 1.2 billion nonreligious people in the world.

there are 1.6 billion muslims in the world.

and one final statistic

there are over 2.1 billion christians in the world.

the jewish count is a highball, rounded up, and includes several different definitions of jewish including people who are only one quarter. so for every single person who is even remotely jewish, there are more than 8 christians. for every hindu, there are 4 christians. for every atheist, agnostic, or "other", 2 christians. this frightening statistic should set off warning bells for everyone who is involved in a discussion about religion. and anyone who knows BASIC world history and can correlate data at all can probably piece together what I'm putting down.

now, I may be slightly biased here considering my eclectic religious beliefs. now, I personally believe that there is some primary force of energy that may or may not manifest itself as a humanoid being, that engineered the most basic laws of physics in the universe: atomic magnetism. as can be inferred by planck's constant and its implications, our universe is digital, written in binary. an electron either moves or doesn't move. there are no other options. so I genuinely believe in some form of intelligent design; whether it's a bearded guy on a cloud, some dude with six arms and an elephant for a face, just a big swirling pool of ectoplasm, or a big ol' plate of spaghetti and meatballs, something is out there that we are physically incapable of contacting from our plane of existence, just as a drawing on a piece of paper cannot reach out to interact with the world: a gif will move on its own but it will never acknowledge our existence, even if it could think by itself. and all the different mythologies of the world- egyptian, greek, norse, shinto, whatever- very well could be the agents of that unknown "god". perhaps anubis, ra, and bastet are just angels with animal heads that all of the peoples of ancient egypt saw and were like oh I guess this must be a god. maybe zeus and loki were the same person with a magic dick who fucked a bunch of animals in both greece and the scandinavian countries and spawned all of the horrible half-animal monstrosities that, idk, made vishnu think "well I have to kill that" and caused the biblical flood or something. maybe the jewish god gifted wisdom to siddhartha for sitting under a fig tree for 6 years through the angel pomona [roman goddess of fruit, had to google that one], so buddha gets his wisdom from demeter and is in nirvana right now right a step up from hades on yggdrasil the world tree keeping an eye on his charge persephone. any theory could theoretically be true but we ants of humans will never fucking know because we can't just point a telescope at the magellanic clouds and say "look, there's amaterasu with russell's teapot, and she's having tea with... *rubs eyes* lemmy kilmister??? wow I guess gods are real after all!" it's impossible to know the secrets of our universe because of the very restrictive nature of the universe itself. is it a circle? is it a donut? WE DONT FUCKIN KNOW.

we cannot know what religion is truthful.

""anyone who says that any one religion is more or less true than any other is a fucking moron, and if they're suggesting that White Western European Colonial Imperialist Protestantism is the one true faith, they're probably a fucking racist colonizer who beats his wife/sister and burns gays at the stake. and considering how that exact demographic is typically the one that murdered people for not converting to their religion, I don't think they have the intellectual non-deranged ability to make those logical connections.

again, I'm not saying that there AREN'T a lot of people of every religion who are evil assholes who contributed to mass genocide. israelites killed palestinians. shiites killed sunnis. hutus killed tutsis. danes killed geats. turks killed armenians. the ottoman empire has as much blood on its hands as the holy roman empire. germans who called themselves aryans but weren't actually aryan killed jews. but all of these tragedies were isolated incidents rather than repeated patterns over the course of two thousand years. not like christianity was and is.

just look at the United States, Canada, Mexico, Hong Kong, South Africa, Australia, & India's British Raj. Britain, France, Spain, and Italy, by extension Protestantism and Catholicism, are the shared factor between the long and bloody history fraught with massacring indigenous populations who wouldn't convert religions. native americans, indigenous canadians, latin americans but predominantly mexicans, the eastern chinese, coastal africans, aborigine aussies, indians- coastal coastal coastal. true the western chinese and the mongols/hunnu and xinjiang muslims haven't exactly been on civil terms and the silk road has always been a battleground and the middle east was already tenuous before murrica bombed them for oil but those happened in such a spread out area among asia which is FUCKING HUGE, MIND YOU! but also that's three high traffic places with massive diversity, it's human nature to have conflict, but not nearly to the same level as all of the shit christianity has done to the world. it's impossible to separate the religion from the cultures; victorian england without protestantism is just dirty people who die at 15 from having their 3rd child. italy without the catholicism is just grass and cheese. france and spain without religion are just kingdoms that fought wars with england for forever and now just make food that's one part delicious and three parts horrifying. religion is directly responsible for a significant portion of the evils those countries committed. one religion in particular.

they don't practice religion the same way as the rest do. they aren't faithful to their god. they don't follow his rules out of love but out of fear. they execute dissenters without a second thought, heresy they cry. they execute women and little girls for being free thinking or having sickness associated with mercury poisoning in the water, witch they cry. they slaughter men women and kids alike in the name of cramming their beliefs down the natives throats, we're chasing out the snakes they cry, we're bringing god to your godless people they cry, we're just civilizing you they cry. they shit in the streets and proudly display rotting corpses and leave the impoverished disabled and starving to die alone and whip their slaves and rape teenage girls and scrap in the streets while sopping wet with spilled ale over insignificant insults and stab people to death in the night and never even fucking BATHE, and they have the nerve to say the natives were uncivilized. the nerve. because hey. they read a magic book they stole from a culture who stole from another culture who stole from another culture, mistranslating each time from hebrew to greek to italian to english, and they think they're better because their skin is white.

christians never evolved. their mentalities have stayed the same. all thatms advanced has been technology. that's it. they're still the same evil disgusting degenerate bastards they always were. they just have the money they stole to buy stained glass windows, rosary beads, giant tacky metal statues, bigass robes, leather, and printing presses. and as time passed they used the money they continued to steal to buy cars and websites and radio stations and commit felony tax evasion and secretly molest children and line the pockets of the politicians.

all of their holidays are stolen from pagans anyway.

so fuck christmas. fuck easter. fuck lent. fuck the golden calf christian holidays that the tiny minded fragile snowflake conservatives lose their collective shit over because the pandemic response common sense stipulations won't let them buy the shit they can't afford with money they shouldn't have for people they don't even LIKE, all in the name of tradition, tradition! the rituals that worship something so much worse than satan or baphomet or pan or whatever: the dollar. they buy all the new shiny shit they can, at the expense of the chinese kids that the corporate pigs outsource to, buy the pine trees and the coca cola vunderbar and the fake mint corn syrup Js and watch the same shitty cookie cutter white supremacist hallmark fash movies and stuff their kids full of enough sugar to go into a goddamn coma when the african slaves who pick the cocoa beans will never get to know what actually being a kid will ever feel like because they're gonna die from falling into a combine harvester and be eternally forgotten to history and no christian will ever give a shit because they don't fucking care about what they don't see on their safe space news or hear on their safe space radio or read on their safe space social media. they think their worst sin is eating cheeseburgers so instead they'll go eat a mcchicken or chick fil a or an arby's chicken sandwich instead but not at popeyes because "that place is sketchy" and by that they mean they don't wanna eat where black people eat, that's why cracker barrel was so popular for so many white christians for so long because it had racially segregated seating until barely 20 years ago.

they don't love jesus. they love a paper doll they shove into their back pockets until every other sunday where they go to a fucking mall with a baptism waterslide and raise their hands like a bunch of dumbass weirdos and away to adult contemporary indie schlock with the word jesus pasted into a boring-ass hetero romance song, pat themselves on the back, then go to starbucks to scream slurs and misgenderings at 14 year old starbucks baristas who give them a cappamochalattechino instead of a fucking carmamochalattechino because you mumbled under the mask you didn't even fucking cover your nose with because you don't give a shit about the virus beyond how it inconveniences you.

they are horrible people who pretend to be good. until you suggest the slightest infinitely small inconvenience to them that would alter their holiday plans even the littlest smidge. then they would kill you if not for the police. don't get me started on them because you know by now what I'd say about those fuckers. but they'll gladly wear shirts about how they'll kill you. how they'll go back 200 years. how they'll murder you and watch you slowly suffer because their primate brains shoot a million endorphins when they watch things die by their hands because they never evolved a sense of empathy, compassion, or morality beyond how wearing a cross necklace will remove any of the consequences they will face in their afterlife.

they are horrible people who pretend to be good. unless you're gay or black or trans or Not Christian™ or mexican or disagree with them about politics economics sociology science technology music or movies. assimilate or die. assimilate or die. assimilate or die.

they don't deserve special treatment for their false idols.

they aren't better than jews or muslims.

they're worse.

so much worse.

and they should be stopped.""

-Nightingale Quietioca

save as draft arch draft bookmark draft where did I put my keys contra code kontra kode I need to remember this and copy it buzzwords keywords find it later please god tumblr don't bork on me this is good stream of consciousness repackage repackage change the words this is a great character study if I do say so myself thanks 3am me you're welcome 3am me

[therokoko]

“A bad attitude on set is deadly” - Interview with Alex Rider Director and Producer Andreas Prochaska 

Andreas Prochaska on adapting the books, casting Otto Farrant and the challenges of releasing the series in times of Corona

Based on a podcast interview with Austrian news outlet Der Standard titled “Schlechte Laune am Set ist tödlich”. I’ve translated the important bits. 

1. How he came in contact with Alex Rider: 

Well, that was relatively simple. I have an agent in England, and he sent me the script for the first episode as well as an outlook, a kind of series bible about how things were going to proceed, and I read this and thought: “This works for me. That’s something completely different.” 

I mean, especially … you mentioned “Das Boot” earlier, which was the production I worked on before, and which was burdensome in every way, I mean not only because of the time it took but also because of the topic, because we killed, I think, 26 characters in “Das Boot”, not counting extras, and of course that has an effect on you. And then I also filmed “Spuren des Bösen” [Traces of Evil, a German 8 part crime series made between 2010 and 2019, A/N), in which a mother jumps out of a window with her baby, and I was looking for something with a lighter tonality, and something which I hadn’t done before in this particular form, and “Alex Rider” was perfect for that.

I also didn’t know the book series at all. I read it completely unbiased and thought: “This is actually a cool, daring concept – so to speak somewhat exaggeratedly Coming-of-Age meets Jason Bourne....

[This job] was a result of “Das Boot” insofar as someone working for the distributor, Sonar, knew someone at Eleventh Hour – and it’s not just over here that people talk, and when someone says “listen, this guy has done a decent job, take a look” or something, that helps, and in this case it’s probable that the people became aware of me through these contacts.

2. How they approached adapting the books:

Well, it already started with the fact that our series is a mixture of the first book of the book series, namely “Stormbreaker”, and “Point Blanc” – I don’t remember right now whether that’s the second or a later book.

In Stormbreaker, the drama of the protagonist is established with the uncle who dies and the realization that this uncle wasn’t who he appeared to be. Stormbreaker had been made into a feature film which was produced by Harvey Weinstein and for which Anthony Horowitz had written the script, and that was pretty much a lead balloon. And because of that it was relatively clear that everything bad that had happened with that feature film needed to be avoided, namely that everything was totally over the top.

And my job was to [adapt] this material, which actually … I started reading the novel afterwards, and I stopped after 20 pages because I realized that that wasn’t helping me because they are actually books for 12 year olds, or at least Point Blanc is – when I read it I thought: “This is an English, better-quality version of the ‘Knickerbocker Gang’ [a German children’s book series about a group of child detectives, A/N] or something like that”. And the task was to just adapt this material for an older audience and to just draw the characters in a different way emotionally, to draw them in a more realistic way. When you look at the entire season it does occasionally reach into almost absurd spheres, but it was important for me to pave the way for the audience by starting out realistically with a protagonist that could just be the boy next door.

3. How he went about filming a spy series:  

Well, the most important thing for me in every story are the characters and to get as close to them as possible. I developed a sympathy for this unwilling hero quite quickly. And, as I said, I tried to make the surroundings as British as possible given my Austrian view of things, and to draw a character that you believe and for whom failure is always a possibility, because I find it incredibly boring when you have these superheroes and you already know that they are never in any real danger.

And this was very important to me also in working with Otto Farrant, who plays Alex, to guide him and direct him in such a way that you get the feeling that it’s possible for things to not turn out well, so that you go on this journey with him emotionally, and as to the rest it is … I don’t approach things mathematically. It’s not as if I feel: “Ok, in minute 10 this particular thing must happen, and in minute 20 this thing must happen.” For me, every story is a journey, and you try to make these journeys as good as possible following your instincts.

Like, for instance, the opening scene. In the script the villain was sitting on a roof manipulating some things on his laptop. And then the thing that happens with the man happens – I don’t want to spoil anything, because it’s actually a pretty nice surprise – and this was only 2 thin pages, and I thought: “Actually, to start this series off in an epic fashion, I’d rather like to introduce another character here, too, to charge this scene as much as possible so that you’re just drawn into this world.” And equally in episode two, that’s so to speak the episode of the test, where he has to pass the test designed to show whether he’s suited for this mission, and the script called for a hut in the woods and a road in which things happen, and I thought: “Ok, if we are dealing with a secret service, the military is not that far off.” And so I told the location scout to look for abandoned military bases, and we ended up on a former nuclear weapons base somewhere in the South of England, which made the producer sweat quite a bit because this was a relatively complex location compared to what had been in the script. But those are the things where I, as a director, can try to create visual appeal for a global audience. The series has been sold to a hundred countries, which comes with certain expectations, and of course you don’t want to disappoint these expectations.

4. On the circumstances of the release and viewer reactions: 

It came out in England in the beginning of June, which is sad, of course, because we had planned to have a premiere celebration at some festival, which wasn’t possible because of the current situation. And so this release on Amazon almost felt a little stepmotherly. So I just refreshed the link on Amazon.uk again and again to see how the people reacted to it, and there were actually many very positive reviews in a relatively short time. I think we are at 4.6 out of 5 stars at the moment, whatever that means, …

There are of course, again, total haters who only give one star and say: “What a bunch of crap.” But the majority of people seem to really like it. So hopefully, or it seems we have managed, at least in England, to … that the fans who read it as children watch it, so to speak, in retrospective joy and that they remember the times in which they read it, and still [feel like the series] adds something new.  

5. On the casting process: 

There was … even before I came on board, they made an England-wide, i.e. Britain-wide casting call. And in England, there are quite a lot of youth theatre projects, which were also contacted. And we received, I think, more than 3000 e-castings, which were screened beforehand. I still saw about 200 e-castings, and then this number was reduced bit by bit. In the end there were 3 people left in the room, one boy was from Game of Thrones, another one was very young – barely over 16, which would have been difficult -, and then, to be honest, there was only Otto. On the one hand, that was surprising because you think that there are loads of great actors in England, that it would be difficult to find the right hero, but in the end it was just very clear. It was an interesting casting situation: there was Anthony Horowitz, then there were the two executive producers from Eleventh Hour, then there was Wayne Garvey from Sony International Co-Productions, and also a casting agent from Sony America, and they all sat behind me like an assembly, and I just took the camera and worked with the actors and just tried to ignore the audience – I also felt like I was being cast again as well in my work with the actors, but … it was, yeah, it was very interesting and exciting.

I virtually grilled him for hours, tried again and again to draw the different scenes in different temperatures and with different emotions out of him, just to see what his range is and how much I would be able to work with him later on in terms of fine-tuning. Because carrying 8 episodes is an extreme challenge for a young actor, and it doesn’t help me if the boy is just dashing and then he carries only half an episode and then breaks apart. That is why it was so important to really test him thoroughly, also in combination with Brenock, who plays his best friend - we tried different combinations – and with Ronke, who plays his confidante in the household, just to try and find the right chemistry. And that was a very exciting and very satisfying process. What was really great was, when he had those three, there wasn’t any discussion anymore at all, we all agreed – I mean it would have been equally possible for Anthony to favour someone else or for Sony to like somebody else better, but it was really incredibly harmonious and unanimous.

6: On what made Otto Farrant stand out: 

Well, it was his perseverance. I mean, really, we had one scene which we really tried in 10 or 15 variations, and every time I felt that he understood where I wanted to go. To direct often means to change the temperature of a scene using only short adjectives, and for that you need someone who understands you and who can also implement that. And I just saw that he doesn’t give up that he really has stamina, and that was essentially – apart from the fact that he really comes across as incredibly natural and likeable – the deciding factor for me in the end.

7: On the responsibility of making Alex Rider and the first weeks on set: 

Well, I mean the … Alex Rider is, I mean to English fans, a promise like James Bond, on a different level. And you need someone who – and of course you need that with every film and with every series – you need an actor who touches the people emotionally, to whom they can connect. That is, of course, something you can’t … beforehand … I mean, of course you can, as we did, try everything out during the casting process, but you only know whether it really works out after a week of shooting.

And I really – especially in the first 3-4 weeks, in which I was still searching, too – I mean with every production you start on the first day of shooting and you want to throw away all the material you shot on the first day right away and start over on the next day – but he was searching, I was searching, and in a way I became – it sounds a little exaggerated right now – I became a little bit of a surrogate father during that time, because I noticed that he needed a certain type of attention and a certain security that only I as the director could give him. That is, he could come to me with every problem and with every decision concerning the character, and that worked out really well …

8. On the challenge of “carrying” a series as a lead: 

As for the “carrying”: on the one hand he has to, so to speak, function technically, i.e. he must be able to, so to speak, deliver every scene, i.e. to know the dialog, to have the right energy, and do that over the course of months - now, luckily, Otto is 21; I don’t think that would have worked with a 16 year old. And that meant that while we were shooting Otto had to read the other four scripts, which were still being written while we were shooting, and he had to comment on them and to learn them by heart, and the transition was seamless. I had to interrupt my shooting schedule for two weeks because we had a location that was only available at a specific time, and so I left the set and flew to Austria to start the cutting process, and on the next day the other director came in and just kept working with him. That means Otto had to adapt to the other director, and that’s a challenge for every actor, but especially for a young actor. ...

I [as a director] could only keep it together up to a certain point in time, until my episodes where done shooting. [...] And of course, when the lead actor is in a bad mood when he comes to the set in the morning, that is at least as bad as when I come to the set in a bad mood. That emanates in all directions. So the strength of character of someone, who also knows … I mean, he doesn’t know yet about the power he may have in the second or third season, when he maybe becomes executive producer or I don’t know … but [it’s important] that you, as a human being, just treat everyone with respect in such an environment.

Source: Der Standard AT 

[rxsie-the-demon]

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST | chapter one 

chapter summary: Nikki goes out of her comfort zone and bonds with Kie, while still remaining curious about what happened last summer. At a party, Topper gets a little too touchy, and Nikki (surprisingly) befriends Rafe and Wheezie.

warnings: drinking, smoking, HARD DRUGS, swearing (oops), HARRASSMENT (topper gets VERY touchy) so if that makes u uncomfy just skim over that, and a conversation about addiction/rehab and therapy

word count: 5029

Chapter 2: Cinnamon Girl

If I had to choose, B Days would be my least favorite. On B days, I have no classes with anyone I know, except English with Kelce at the end of the day.

And no one to sit with at lunch.

On my second day of school, when I realized I had no one to sit with, I ate in the library. You’re allowed to, so long as you clean up after yourself and stuff.

Walking into the huge cafeteria, with clean white titles and those long foldable school tables, I decided to do the same thing today; just sit in the library by myself, and maybe read or shop online, The tall walls of the cafeteria were decorated with motivational quotes and the school’s athletic accomplishments.

But when I was walking towards the lunch line, I saw Kiara sitting by herself out of the corner of my eye, head down on the table. Which made me feel really, really sad for her.

I stood in line quietly, AirPods in my ears, scrolling through Instagram when I found Kiara’s page. I didn’t want to seem like a stalker, but my curiosity got the best of me and I clicked on it.

Her page reminded me of this social activist that I follow that of a social activist I follow, the difference being that Kiara’s page was mostly environment-focused, with the occasional selfie and pics of her friends.

Clicking on one of her them, a selfie with her and her four friends on a boat during sunset, I saw a slightly sunburned brunet with his arm wrapped around one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She’s probably a TikToker, I thought. Sunburn had a dark blue bandana wrapped around his neck and had his shirt unbuttoned. Major surfer boy vibes. 

Next to Tiktok, was Kiara, with bright eyes and a bright smile. Completely different from the girl who sits behind me in APUSH. The boy next to Kiara had dark skin and curly hair. He was wearing a hat, like Sunburn and the other boy next to him. And judging from the way his arm was around her waist, Hat totally had a thing for Kiara.

But the last boy, holy shit, if I thought Sunburn was cute, Hot Blonde Boy was another level. He was the one taking the picture, with one arm stretched out to hold the phone and the other one, covered shiny rings, was posing with, like, the rock hand sign? I think that’s what it’s called: with his index and pink fingers up, and the rest like they’d be balled in a fist. His messy blonde hair was being held together by a red snapback, and he was shirtless except for his shark tooth necklace. His tan went well with his bright, energetic eyes and big smile but...oh my gosh. His hands. They were big, with long fingers, and his arms were a little veiny and-

I put my phone away. Nuh-uh, I’m not going to be thirsting over a random guy’s hands, especially when that guy could literally be dead, or worse, the crazy dude who tried to shoot Topper.

Not that I don’t understand why someone would want to shoot Topper.

I grabbed my tray, putting a Chicken Caesar salad bowl (yum), a bowl of grapes (double yum), and a water bottle onto my tray. Remembering that Kiara didn’t have any food with her, I grabbed a hamburger, too.

I paid for my food and walked towards the utensil holder, debating whether or not I should just go to the library or sit with Kiara. I mean, I should sit with her, she’s by herself and is going through a hard time, but then again, I hardly know her. Besides exchanging numbers with her yesterday and not even texting her, I never interacted with the girl. She’ll probably think I’m just talking to her to get tea for Topper and Scarlet.

But then again, I already bought her a hamburger.

I walked over to her table. She was wearing a similar outfit as she was yesterday, the only difference being she was wearing light blue jeans. So, yay? A bit of color?

I sat down across from her and put my tray down quietly, not wanting to scare her. “Hey.”

Her head shot up immediately. Her soft brown eyes looked so tired, her light brown skin looking ashy and dull. Her dark brown hair, with it’s nice, defined beach wave curls, was tied back in a bun in her hood. When she saw who it was, her face softened. “Oh, hi.”

“I hope it’s ok I’m sitting with you, I don’t know anyone else in this lunch and I thought it’d be good to discuss our project.” I waved my hands around a bit before opening the plastic lid of my salad.

She nodded, eyeing my food for a second.

My heart hurt. Of course, she has the money to buy food, that’s not the issue. She probably hasn’t been eating out of grief.

“So I’m Indian, duh,” I waved my hand in front of my face and she smiled softly, “and I thought this was a chicken burger, but it’s beef. And I can’t eat beef, because, ya know, Hindus don’t eat beef. So, like, could you do me a solid and eat this for me? I hate wasting food and I’d feel awful if I threw it out.” I slid the burger towards her.

She nodded, pulling it towards her and taking a small bite.

I poured my croutons into my salad and started quietly eating when I heard Kiara mumble, “Thank you.”

I glanced up at her for a second, only to look back down. “Don’t thank me. I bought that on accident.”

“I saw you staring at me in line. And...I haven’t eaten in the past two days.”

I looked back at Kiara, who was looking everywhere but me. I decided to just ask.

“It’s because of what happened to your friends, right? You’re mourning?”

She nodded, still not looking at me.

“I understand. Grief isn’t something that has, like, a definitive answer. You just gotta let it run its course,” I said, putting my hand in front of my mouth because I was chewing.

Kiara nodded again and took another bite, a bigger one this time. I mentally high-fived myself for getting her to eat. I didn’t think it’d work.

“So, what do you want to do for the project?” I asked.

Kiara shrugged. “We could do current events. Maybe something environment related?”

“Like, an advertisement? We make a video talking about pollution or something?”

“Yeah! Or maybe we could organize something and get a bunch of people to come together and, like, clean up the beach?”

“Or we could go out on boats and find trash in the ocean?”

“That too!” Kiara’s eyes were shining now, and she was smiling. Wide. Much like the girl whose Instagram I was stalking.

“Sweet. Ok, so, the environment is one thing, do we have any other ideas? Like, isn’t the Outer Banks also famous for shipwrecks or something? I heard The Royal Merchant sank here. Maybe we could do a project on that?”

Kiara stiffened up when I mentioned shipwrecks. Did I say something wrong? 

Shit. Her friends died at sea, how could I be so stupid?

“That’s...not a bad idea, actually. I happen to know a lot about The Royal Merchant. More than I want to know, actually,” She chuckled. She looked down at her hands, and then looked back up. “John B, my friend who died at sea over the summer, he and his dad were obsessed with finding it. We actually-,” she leaned closer to me. “We actually found it. But, uh, the gold isn’t there.”

My eyes went wide. I leaned forward, too. “Well, where is the gold then? Do you know?”

Kiara nodded. “In the Bahamas.”

“How the f- How did it get there, if the shipwreck happened here and no one knew where it was until you and your Pogue friends found it?”

She sighed. “Long story. I’ll tell you another day.”

“Wait-”

The lunch bell rang. I sighed as we stood up and grabbed our bags, walking towards the doors to leave for class. I really want to know how the gold ended up in the Bahamas.

“Well, thanks for lunch, Nikki!”

“Of course, Kiara, that’s what friends are for,” I smiled.

Kiara beamed. “Call me Kie.”

I was overjoyed. A friend. A real, actual friend. “Kie. Fantastic. Hey, Kie, do you know anyone named Rafe by any chance?”

Kie narrowed her eyes. “Yea, why?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just invited to his birthday party this Saturday.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Be careful around him, ok? Talk to you later!”

“Uh, bye!”

************************************************

Yellow, or blue?

I held both dresses up to myself, looking in the mirror.

Saturday came, and it was time for Rafe’s party.

The party starts at 9 and was gonna last all night, but Topper wanted to take me out to eat, so at 7:30, I’m still deciding which dress to wear.

Both dresses are sundresses, short, flowy with shirred backs and knotted straps. They are literally the same dress, down to the little polka dots, just in different colors. I could wear either one, because I kept my makeup simple: concealer, nude eye shadow, mascara, and clear lip gloss.

I texted Kiara, asking her to choose a color, to which she responded yellow. We managed to get really close in just three days, which made me happy, because I felt that she was my only real friend at school, and, well, I was her only friend there.

I slipped the dress on and matched it with my white Birkenstocks. I went over to my dresser table (yes I have two mirrors in my room, sue me) and put on my white tassel fringe earrings. I kept my ‘Om’ necklace on.

I admired myself. My light brown skin looks good with the yellow and white, and my jet black hair, which I decided to not straighten, had slight waves, and reached my shoulders. I look like a rich, beach girl. A Kook, I suppose.

I grabbed my phone, taking a quick mirror selfie and snapping it to Topper, captioned ‘i’m readyyy’. He opened it immediately.

‘Damnn u look hot,’ he typed out. Ew.

‘aw ty,’ I typed back. ‘where r u?’

‘I’m omw. U have ur bag? The party’s on a yacht and there’ll be a pool.’

‘swim suit’s packed’

‘Fantastic. I’ll be there soon.’

I locked my phone, putting it into my purple and black NYU drawstring bag that also held my black bikini and a towel. I grabbed the bag hopped down the stairs.

Mallory and Krish, my sister-in-law and brother, were sitting on the couch, watching TV. 

“Hey losers. My friend’s gonna be here any minute to pick me up.”

Mallory turned to face me, smiling. “Aw, you look cute! Have fun, and be safe, ok?”

“If you’re gonna be coming in, like, super late,” Krish added, not taking his eyes off the TV, “try to be as quiet as possible. Diya is a really light sleeper.”

Diya, my 5-month-old niece, made baby sounds. I took a couple steps forward and saw she was spread out on the floor, in her fluffy pink blanket, chewing on her gloved hands. I waved at her.

“Don’t worry, if I wake her up, I’ll take care of her. I don’t plan on drinking or smoking or anything tonight. Well, maybe drinking, but that’s it.”

They laughed. “Ok, ok, just have fun,” Mal said.

I sat on the floor, playing with Diya, until 7:50, when the doorbell rang, revealing Topper, wearing a black button-down shirt that was rolled up to his elbows (bless), Air Force 1s, ripped jeans, and a Gucci belt.

He smiled. “Ready to go?”

I smiled back. “Yep.” I turned to face Krish and Mal. “Bye Mom, bye Dad!”

“Bye, hun!” Mallory called out. They smiled and Top, too, and waved.

I closed the door and left, and Topper grabbed my hand to lead me to the car. “Sorry, I’d have introduced you to my parents, but they were too busy, like, ogling at my baby sister,” I half lied.

Topper laughed, “No worries. I’ll have plenty of chances to meet them, I hope?”

I smiled. “Yep, I hope so too.”

A complete lie.

******************************************

Dinner with Topper was...interesting. Instead of taking me to some fancy restaurant or whatever, he took me to this cute little diner closer to the beach, but not close to The Cut, according to him. “There are a bunch of restaurants here in the Banks,” he had said. “But not a lot of people know about this one. That’s why it’s my favorite.” He winked, and I nearly vomited in my mouth.

The place was real old-timey, with the little booths and a jukebox. We had burgers and shared a plate of fries and a milkshake. And honestly? It would’ve been really romantic if I actually liked Topper like that.

Don’t get me wrong, Topper is hot. He’s sweet to me, like cotton candy sweet, and really affectionate. I love touchy boys (consensual, of course, or they get their shit rocked), but he’s always grabbing my hand and playing with my hair. Which would be fine, but I barely know him.

And ever since he admitted to drowning that John B kid, whatever potential feelings I had just...disappeared. That paired with his Holier-than-thou attitude and his blatant classism makes him everything I would hate in a person, let alone a potential boyfriend.

Besides, I know the real reason he’s flirting with me. The Kook King of High School needs a Queen, and with his ex gone, everyone wants me to step into that role. Any other time, I’d be happy to be That Girl. But something just feels wrong about this.

Lots of people have told me I remind them of Sarah, apparently because she, too, was a bit of a social activist and an environmental freak (no wonder her and Kie were friends) which just confirms the fact that I’m just a replacement.

But, besides Kie, I have no other friends at OBX High. I have no choice but to go with it.

Driving close to the dock, I could hear loud music playing from somewhere. Leaning forward, I saw the yachts, one of them in particular already pretty full of people and neon lights.

“Yeah, Rafe tends to go all out on parties,” Topper remarked, gesturing towards the boats as he parked. “But they’re always fun.”

I nodded, plastering on a smile. I grabbed his hand. “Fantastic. Lead the way.”

**********************************************

Ok, I have to hand it to OBX kids. They know how to get turnt.

At 9:30, the yacht left the dock and headed towards the sea. By 10, the party was in full form, with kids dancing, singing, swimming, smoking, drinking, everything!

It was a glorious mess.

Right now it’s 10:30, and I’d been dancing with Top when we decided to go get something to drink.

We went to the bar and I told Topper to just one of whatever he was drinking for me, so he got two Mai Tais. The bartender looked really worried, because, you know, more than half the kids at this party are underaged, so I slipped him a 50 for his troubles.

Top and I walked away, laughing at the bartender’s confused face. The familiar feeling of alcohol started to wash

We walked around and talked about life and the universe, and when we finished our drinks, we went to the deck.

I leaned onto the railing, staring into the ocean.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked softly. Growing up in Brooklyn Heights, I was never one for the ocean. I mean, sure, there were beaches an hour or two away from my old home that I visited often, but I was always a city girl. But this, this was something else entirely. The way the pale, white moonlight shined on the dark blue ocean, it was comforting, almost.

“Yeah,” Topper whispered back, wrapping his arm around my cold body, “really is beautiful.” I turned and saw him staring at me, smiling just a tiny bit. I shoved him lightly.

“You’re so corny,” I laughed.

“Maybe, but I made you smile, didn’t I?”

“...Shut up.”

We laughed, and he wrapped both arms around me and pulled me close to him. I stiffened a bit. Calm down, Nikki. It’s not that big a deal. But it is. I hate leading people on and I hated that he was always touching me.

I snuck my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest. I’m short, I’ll admit it, standing at a towering five foot four with my two-inch platforms. Topper, on the other hand, is six feet tall, so my head tucked in just underneath his.

We stayed like that for a bit, swaying softly to some pop song. I felt myself relaxing, but I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Hey, Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, I really like you.”

I pulled back and looked at Topper, who was fidgeting with my hair, and I narrowed my eyes “Wait, actually?”.

I hope he’s joking. He’s known me for less than a week! I mean, sure, you can have an instinct attraction to someone, yadda yadda, and maybe he wants to get to know me better, or whatever. Fine. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t like him that, but I find his declaration of feelings a little ridiculous.

“Yea, I do. I know we just met, but I really want to get to know you more. No, I’m not asking you out...unless you want to date, that is, but I feel insanely attracted to you.” He brushed his hair back nervously.

I could reject Topper, and risk my popularity and social standing. It could end up well, it could end up terribly. But if I say I like him back, which is a lie, I guarantee my place as the most popular girl in the Outer Banks.

I place my right hand on his shoulder and my left hand on his cheek. Standing on my toes, I gently guide his face to mine.

As I close my eyes, I imagine that I’m not about to kiss Topper, but Hot Blonde Boy from Kie’s Instagram.

His lips are soft, really soft, and Top’s hands drop to my waist to pull me closer to him.

After we pull away, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and gently kisses my forehead.

“I like you too, Top,” I lied, “but I don’t want to rush into anything. We just met, and I’ve rushed into things before, and they never ended well, and-”

“Hey, hey, I get it,” he takes his hand to my chin and lifts it up so that I’m looking at him instead of the floor. “We can go as slow as you like, all right?”

I smile and nod. Top cups my face in his hands, and right before he can kiss me, I pull away and say, “Let’s go swimming! I’m going to go change, ok?”

He nods, ruffling his hair. I turn, pulling my phone out from my duffel bag and sending a text to Kie.

‘sos i just kissed topper.’

I walk into one of the changing rooms and change into my bikini. As I’m stuffing my dress into my bag, I see I get a text back.

‘dumbass!!’

**********************************************

Apparently, when I said I wanted to go swimming, it translated to yeeting me into the pool and then jumping in after, and then us splashing each other, non-stop. I mean, I guess that is what you do at a pool party, but I have no idea. Usually, I just stand around and eat food and, you know, don’t actually go into the water.

It was fun and all, yea, but I was uncomfortable the entire time because he couldn’t- no, wouldn’t- keep his hands off of me.

After it became too much, I jumped out of the pool and sat down on one of the chairs, wrapped my towel around myself and feeling really uncomfortable. Topper climbed out after me and sat down at my feet. “Did I, uh, do something?”

Yeah, you won’t stop touching me, bro.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just got a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” I checked the time on my phone. I had an idea. “Hey, I’m going to go find Kelce and Scarlet, ok?”

“Uh, sure, do you want me to come with you?”

Not really, no. “Uh, if you want, but I was just gonna have, like, a girl’s talk with Scarlet?”

Topper nodded and smiled. I stood up, shoved my towel into my bag, slipped my shoes on, and ran off.

I felt a little weird just walking around in a bikini, especially since I don’t know anyone here, but remembering that everyone else was just as scantily clad as I was made me feel a little better.

I went to the highest deck, where the eldest kids (and by kids I mean like seniors and 20-year-olds), hoping to find Kelce or Scarlet there because I hadn’t seen them anywhere else. But I couldn’t see them on the deck.

I walked around a bit and then decided to text Scarlet.

‘where are you?’

I got a text back immediately. ‘Top deck, near the front. I’m with the little kid.’

Little kid? I walked towards the front side of the ship and indeed saw Scarlet, wearing a dark red colored bikini, sitting in a lounging chair with a girl who looks like she’s in middle school. The kid was pale, with freckles, dark hair, and glasses. She was the only one at this point not wearing a bathing suit.

Why is there a kid here?

I sat down in the seat next to Scarlet and gave her a hug. “Hey!” I slipped my bag off my shoulders and leaned forward to face the young girl. “Hi. What’s your name?”

She smiled. “I’m Wheezie. My brother’s the birthday boy.”

“Wheezie?”

“It’s a nickname, my real name is- Oh, hey, Topper!”

I spun around. Topper was standing in front of me, arms angrily crossed over his bare chest. “Hey, Wheezie. Nikki, can I talk to you?”

“I’m enjoying the company of my new friend.” I gestured over to Wheezie.

“Yeah, well, I want to talk.” He roughly grabbed my wrist and yanked me up.

“Ok, jeez, lemme grab my bag.” I pulled myself from his grasp and turned around to grab my bag. Scarlet mouthed the words be careful, to me. I nodded.

“Bye, Nikki, it was nice to meet you!” Wheezie called out. I shouted pleasantries back. Topper grabbed my wrist again.

After dragging me halfway across the deck, he let go of me and turned around. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you?! You’re the one who, one, won’t stop touching even though we’re not dating and we barely know each other, and two, literally dragged me away from my friends when I was having a conversation with them! Are you like this with all the girls you like? Huh? Maybe that’s why your girlfriend left you for some Pogue, not because Pogues steal things, but because you-” I stepped forward and shoved Topper, “-don’t know how to treat a girl, no, a person, with respect!”

I stopped talking and realized that a lot of people had gone quiet. My face flushed with embarrassment until I heard someone shout.

“WOO! You tell him, Nikki!”

I turned and saw Scarlet and Wheezie jumping up and down and clapping. Soon, all the girls (and some of the boys) around me were clapping and cheering for me, congratulating me and telling Topper that he’s a dick.

I stepped towards Topper. “You and me, whatever thing you think we had going on, it’s done.”

I turned around and beckoned Wheezie and Scarlet to sit back down with me on the deck. The partying resumed, and I went off chatting with the two girls, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that Topper was getting all huffy and puffy.

I pointed that out to the girls. “Should I be worried?”

Wheezie wheezed laughed. “He’s probably just going to call Rafe and get him to tell you off.”

“...He’s gonna get the host of the party, who I don’t know and never met, to yell at me? Fantastic. Good thing he’s your brother.”

“Technically half brother, but yes, a good thing. Oh look, there he is right now!”

I turned around and saw Topper marching towards me with another equally tall, equally blonde boy right behind him. The difference is, this boy didn’t have as much of a hostile aura as Topper has right now.

“So, which one of you embarrassed my boy Top?”

************************************************

The boy, who introduced himself as Rafe, the host, beckoned Scarlet, Topper, and I inside of his suite. He closed the door on Wheezie, though. Bummer. I liked her.

Inside his suite were a bunch of twenty-year-olds, drinking hard liquor, dancing, and sitting around this big table. Rafe took his seat in the middle, told everyone else around him to fuck off, and had us, except Topper, sit across from him. Topper took the seat to his right.

He offered us a bag of white powder, to which Scarlet and I declined. Topper took it, though, and started setting it up to use.

“You use coke?” I asked Topper in disgust. I have nothing against most drugs, like weed or psychedelics, which can be fun to use sparingly at parties or whatever, but not hard drugs like opioids.

Topper shrugged at my question. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. What the fuck is wrong with y-?!”

“Ok, no fighting at my party, please?” Rafe sighed, rubbing his temples. “I brought you guys inside so that everyone else can enjoy the party while you guys have your little marital dispute-”

“WE’RE NOT DATING!” I shouted.

“Whatever,” Rafe sighed.

I stood up. “I’m gonna go hang with Wheezie. Scarlet, you coming?”

She was about to respond when Rafe stood up and said, “I’ll join you.”

I shot a confused look at Scarlet, who just shrugged.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder and walked towards the door, which Rafe held open for me, and we stepped outside, the air making me shiver.

Rafe pulled a pack of Dunhill cigarettes out of his pocket, put one to his mouth, and lights it. He gestured the box towards me and I take one, leaning forward a bit so that he could light it for me.

I rest my arms on the railing and close my eyes, breathing in the burning smoke and exhaling it slowly, being submerged in the light-headed haze of nicotine.

“How old are you?” Rafe’s voice interrupts my zen. I open my eyes and look at the boy, who’s very obviously checking out my bikini covered body.

I laughed and took another drag. “Sixteen,” I exhaled the smoke from my mouth.

Rafe’s eyes went wide, and he turned back to the sea. “Oh shit. My bad. Uh...how’re you liking the party?”

“It’s pretty good. Besides, you know, Topper being Topper, and you forcing me to talk to him.”

Rafe laughed. “Yea, I didn’t mean anything by it. I have a reputation of being a prick, and I’m trying to be better but, you know, not a lot of people respect you when you go from being a douche to a nice guy.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant by that. “Reputation with friends?”

He laughed. “Just,” he waved his hand free hand around, “Everyone. I wasn’t a good person. I’m trying to be better, but it’s hard when everyone already expects me to act a certain way and don’t give me a chance to change.”

I noticed the rings on his hands, like that boy from Kie’s Instagram. But unlike Hot Blondie, Rafe’s too old for me.

Which leads me to wonder…

“Did you know Sarah Cameron, by any chance?” I asked.

Rafe’s eyes went wide, and then he started coughing up smoke.

“W-Why do you ask?” He stammers, still coughing.

I gave him a weird look and just shrugged. “Curious, I guess.” I looked back at the ocean. “I’m the new girl, and everyone keeps telling me about all this stuff, but won’t tell me what actually happened, and I dunno, I’m just so confused.”

I turned to face Rafe, who was looking away, and I think I saw tears forming in his eyes. “Yea, Sarah’s my sister.”

Now it was my turn to cough up smoke. “W-”-cough cough- “Wait”-cough cough- “a minute.” I gasp for air and continue coughing. And after I finally manage to get some oxygen into my lungs, I say, “Sarah Cameron’s your sister? Shit, I’m so sorry, Topper never told me.”

Rafe shrugged, fiddling around with his rings. “It’s alright, I was just...surprised. No one asks me about Sarah or the Pogues anymore. After I came back from rehab-” He stopped, probably because he didn’t mean to say that, but he continued, “After I came back from rehab, I just...stopped beefing with the Pogues, especially JJ, Kie, and Pope. You know them?”

I nodded. “I know Kie, we’re friends. But not JJ and Pope. Never met ‘em, don’t even know what they look like, yet I’ve heard so many things about them.”

Rafe nodded. “They’re not bad kids, really. My time away made me realize how much of a prick I’ve been to them. Like, I caused them a lot of pain, and for what? For nothing. Literally just because I thought that, because they were poorer than us, they weren’t as good as us.”

I nodded. Then I turned and smiled, and stretched out my hand. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Rafe Cameron.”

He smiled and shook back.

_______________________________

chapter three

[luxfurem]

@treppenwitzz​​ asked: i need all the deets about your bellatrix... ALSO ANJI i wanna know more about anji | MEME.

So... this ended up really long and therefore it’s under the cut! I sort of left out the “who they could get along with” part but I also feel like that really just depends on verses and such, so we can totally discuss that sometime  🥺🥺🥺

Bellatrix Lestrange

TW for mentions of alcohol, abuse, death and miscarriage

TROPES/ARCHETYPES: The Champion, Femme Fatale

Bellatrix is the very first muse that I officially wrote on indie, but also a muse that I’ve explored in the many group rps I’ve been in in the years before that. Because of that, she’s been through a lot of changing and tweaking over the years, but I like what I’ve got going for her now.

I’m absolutely a big fan of villain characters and I support the humanizing of them because in my mind, it is all the more terrifying that a villain could like the same things as you, could be like you, but be capable of such terrible things. I think it creates a frightening perspective that’s the quiet sort of terrifying, and it’s what I aim to do with Bella. I wanted to create a villainous woman who is powerful without being sorry for it.

I do want to stress that a villain doesn’t necessarily become worthy or deserving of pity or redemption because their story contains sad aspects. In the end, everyone encounters terrible and sad things in life, and it’s what you do with these experiences that matters. If you become bitter or vengeful, that is a decision, and the consequences of however you decide to treat the world after are not cancelled out because of the reason why you became this way.

On the one hand, she is this terrifyingly powerful witch who, despite her comparatively young age, climbed up the ranks of the death eaters to the position of lieutenant at Voldemort’s side, but on the other she is someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s wife. I wanted to explore how these two aspects of her story intertwine, or, in some cases, clash.

My Bella is a bit canon-divergent in that I absolutely refuse to write a woman who’s completely submissive to a man, especially one that doesn’t deserve it. Of course, I don’t want to stray too far from her original arc in that I still believe she’s absolutely starstruck by Voldemort, but she is more interested in his abilities, his mind and his cunning than she is in him as a partner. It’s a different kind of infatuation, where she isn’t all too sure if she wants him or wants to BE him. In time, she settles with neither, and becomes his champion, instead. She’s a knight under his banner, a soldier under his command.

Much of Bella’s arc comes down to a dominant woman living in a society that doesn’t like dominant women. Pureblood circles are catered to the pureblood man, whereas the woman’s job, much like in societies of previous eras, is to bear a husband's children to continue the pureblood line. It’s a crude and sexist thing, and Bella wants none of it. From a young age, she rebels against her father’s firm beliefs in the way things are supposed to be, and rebels against her mother’s attempts to “guide” her back to how she’s supposed to be. She’s the feral child with the holes in her dresses, the scrapes on her legs from climbing trees and running too fast. Her long hair always tangled and messy. She knows that as a girl in the Black family, the highest achievement would have been to become matriarch, but even that wasn’t ever going to be enough for Bella.

When her mother dies, about two years after the birth of Narcissa, the matriarch of the Black family, Walburga, takes over the role for a short amount of time while her father drinks his grief away. After Sirius is born, however, even this steadiness falls away, as their aunt spends her full time caring for him and the second son, Regulus, born a year after. This leaves Bella to assume responsibility for her sisters at the age of 8. Her fights with her father, their temperaments going head to head resulting in situations I don’t really care to divulge about.

Once accepted into Hogwarts is where things start to divert. From one day to the next, her previously always messy hair is neatly combed back into a braid. Her clothes are pristine, not a spot in sight, and her sharp commentary is kept to a minimum. To all those around her, it seemed she had finally heeded her mother’s wishes, and embraced her place in society. But to those who knew her well enough, to her sisters and to her cousins, there was a stubborn fire burning behind those crow-black eyes, burning higher and brighter the more time passed. It was only a matter of time until the fire either consumed her, or consumed those around her.

It was at the age of 17, during her last year at Hogwarts, that Bellatrix was introduced to the Dark Lord. She’d seen him before, of course, but the Black family had stoically kept their stance on the matter of his campaign neutral, although this wouldn’t last. Her fiance-to-be, Rodolphus, who was a few years her senior, had already joined the ranks, and Voldemort’s actions could no longer be brushed off as a mere whim by the family. And Bella, who desired more than the life of a housewife, saw this as an opportunity to lift herself up.

I want to stress that I, as both a Tom Riddle and Bellatrix writer, don’t think their dynamic was of a romantic or lustful nature at all at this point in time, if ever. Voldemort saw the fire and the potential, and decided that he wanted both of these things for himself, for his ranks. She exceeded expectations and he decided that, if anyone was worthy to be his student, it was her. Over the course of the next two years, he trained her in the dark arts, eventually revealing her, at the age of nineteen, to be his new lieutenant. This was met with some resistance, of course. but Bella was quick to silence that. After all, she had risen above her station, and it had taken effort. She was not about to lose that to a bunch of butthurt men.

It’s also around this time that she marries Rodolphus, whom she puts through the ringer for months before and even post-marriage. She hated the idea of being passed from one man (her father) to another (her husband), as if she is nothing more than a possession. The marriage was arranged, and this bothered her, too, considering her lack of choice in the matter. And because she couldn’t exactly fight her father on it, she fought Rodolphus instead. On every turn, hoping he would be turned off and cancel it. After all, a man’s voice, even if he was only an heir, and not patriarch, still sounded louder than a woman’s voice ever would. But it only seemed to invigorate him, pulling closer the more she pushed. As if he were attracted to the fire, wanted to scorch himself just to stand in the light. He never forced her and he never would, even as she refused to let him into their marriage bed for months, even as she taunted him and ridiculed him. The marriage, in time, seemed to grant her a certain freedom that she never had as a daughter of house Black. She could go where she pleased, do as she pleased, pursue her position among the death eaters as she wanted to. She lost her wariness towards him, her anger. And eventually, she learned to love him.

Bellatrix used to be closest to her sister Andromeda. The two of them were, for a long time, practically inseparable, two halves of a whole. It was as if they should have been twins, and what one lacked, the other would possess. Where one went, you could soon expect the other to be. That was, of course, until Andromeda defected. When she did, Bella’s whole world collapsed. Her castle was captured from the inside, by sadness, by grief and by anger at the deceit. Because Andromeda hadn’t chosen her. Had chosen a “filthy mudblood” instead of her own sister, who had always cared for her, always been there for her. If Bella had had a mean streak, before, it was now full blown, a riptide that would destroy everything and everyone that didn’t get out of her way. She was devastated by the loss, and would never quite recover from it. This event had a huge impact on her view on muggleborns. Whereas before she allowed herself a certain tolerance, where she still viewed herself as holier than but limited her disdain to snooty looks and haughty comments, she now was actively hostile, threatening and garnering a reputation among the ranks of the death eaters for her ruthless, cruel actions.

During her marriage, Bella was pregnant exactly 4 times, but all 4 pregnancies ended up miscarriages fairly early on. It’s my belief that her problems stem from the inbreeding within the family and the English pureblood society in general. Contrary to her other beliefs on the woman in pureblood society, she was interested in being a mother and had the motherly instinct to go with it. Her not being capable of bearing children left her feeling devastated and hardened her heart. In AUs where she does have children, whether of her own or adopted, she develops a sort of caution, a knowledge that she isn’t just responsible for herself, but for this child as well. In these AUs, it keeps her out of Azkaban.

Speaking of Azkaban, I usually don’t write about her time there or really post-Azkaban, and this is mostly because I hate the narrative that she’s “crazy”, and I think it’s harmful towards people who have mental health problems. I believe, due to how Azkaban’s dementors suck the happiness out of people and how Azkaban looks like hell on earth, she suffers from a form of PTSD, but she is not “crazy”.

A few loose facts about her:

is bisexual but leans towards men

loves to write poetry, but she never shows it to anyone.

has a very low tolerance for alcohol and barely drinks.

loves coffee and can’t function without drinking it every morning

is obsessed with taking care of her hair. It’s long and dark and very well-maintained

loves to wear red lipstick

forced herself to learn to use her wand with both her left and her right hand

Anji Terryll

TROPES/ARCHETYPES: The Antihero, The Living Legend, The Reluctant Hero

Anji is actually one of my older muses, who doesn’t see the light of day often because I suppose the Skyrim fandom is sort of dead. On top of that, she’s a female oc. i don’t think i’ll need to explain this. Regardless of that and the lack of information I’ve put online about her ( which I actually seek to remedy by writing this ), she’s a quiet favorite who will never disappear from my roster.

I wanted to create a person who fate had been thrusted upon unwillingly. I wanted to create a woman who had never planned to do anything that didn’t benefit herself in life. Anji’s early life consisted of what was barely a life at the orphanage in Riften, where she watched the Thieves Guild lift jewelry from a man’s pocket with the man none the wiser. She never entertained the idea of being an honest worker, because she’d seen how the jarl treated honest workers. Of course, she knew that if she were to be caught thieving, the storm she’d call over herself would be worse, but that was only if she was going to be caught.

So she got herself into the Thieves’ Guild, worked her way up the ranks to Guild Master, before, near the border, she was caught stealing a horse and shipped off to Helgen, where the main story begins.

Anji is, from the start, reluctant about her supposed fate. She never believed in prophecies and rarely in Gods and now, everything was real, everything was true. And she was the main character of a legend. Thrust into a role she doesn’t think fit her. She isn’t who these people deserve, a thieving woman who serves only her own benefit. The people deserved a selfless knight, advocating for the survival of mankind, believing so wholly in oneself that they could overcome a legendary monster like Alduin the World-Eater. Someone who isn’t her. So she rejects her abilities, rejects her destiny, and pretends for months that she isn’t the one the Greybeards are calling from the Throat of the World.

And for a time, it works. For a time she can focus on the physical gain, the money she earns, the reputation. But in the back of her mind, the knowledge scratches at the door she keeps it behind. She sees the destruction the dragons are causing all over Skyrim, the terror of the people. The loss of morale. She tells herself that she decides to see what these Greybeards have to say, if only to tell them they’ll need to find someone else.

But she comes to learn that there is no one else. There is only her and her bow, and her lack of morale, against an ancient dragon.

Anji is the Reluctant Hero, the Unlikely Hero, not the woman you’d expect when one mentions the Dovahkiin. She’s slight and flighty, quick as a whip with her twin blades, relying on speed above strength. She prefers sneaking through the shadows instead of fighting her way through boldly and openly, and she never starts fights she can’t win. This doesn’t mean she won’t kill, and doesn’t mean she won’t use her powers, even for personal gain. She enjoys the power of the Voice and, as lore suggests, overtime grows more and more powerful (think: her voice can at some point burn the ice off a mountain), but she hates the responsibility that comes with it and will never fully accept it. She’s practical and quick-witted, more on the serious side of the spectrum, although she possesses a funny streak that only shows up in intimate settings ( think: close friends/guild/lovers ) or when she’s completely drunk. She observes each angle of a job or mission before proceeding, wanting to be ahead of each trap she might run into.

A few loose facts about her:

is bisexual but leans towards women

has absolutely no interest in bearing children, adopting is fine though

favors her bow over her twin blades

carries two daggers in each boot

In some verses she can be a werewolf for absolutely no other reason other than that i can

in modern verses she owns a martial arts school

Play smart not hard

[hopeaterart]

The shittiest family reunion in the history of ever: chapter 6

This was supposed to be the chapter where Holly kicks Polnareff’s ass, but I changed plans at the last second. I also sprinkled in some soft Jotaro/Kakyoin content because this fic is nothing if not self-indulgent. And including Bandanaboi’s ‘Jotaro is accidentally a banchou’ idea.

Jotaro quickly made his way out of the classroom, making his way through the sea of students with Kakyoin not far behind him, holding hands and making sure that he wouldn’t lose the redhead. Kakyoin simply followed him, visibly uncomfortable with all the attention he had gained as ‘the new transfer student with red hair’.

Jotaro slowed down as they came outside, slowing down so Kakyoin could stand next to him and getting his phone out. The redhead stood close, reading the text messages between the taller boy and his mother. “What’s Kitahara?” He asked, turning his head toward Jotaro.

He shrugged, putting his phone back in his back pocket. “She’s talking about a family sushi restaurant. It’s not right next to our street, but you can easily walk there. And beside their sushi, they also make ramen, kaisendon, udon, and kare raisu. I don’t eat the kare raisu I think it tastes like shit, but the sushis are good, the rest is okay, and apparently I have a ‘difficult palate’.” He then did air quotes to emphasize his point, and Kakyoin snorted.

“Oi, Kujo!” The two boys turned toward the voice, seeing a bunch of other students come toward them, all looking like delinquents.

Jotaro groaned, and Kakyoin turned toward him. “You know them?”

“Yeah. They’re a bunch of punks I helped win a fight once, and now they won’t leave me alone. Come on, let’s go-” Jotaro had the time to grab Kakyoin’s hand and turn away, the redhead in tow, before a guy with way two many ear piercings was next to Kakyoin with a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder.

“How ya doin’, Kujo?” He asked. Kakyoin heard Jotaro take a deep breath, his shoulders rising with it, followed by a hiss of ‘five-foot rule, Sugawara’, and the boy’s hand shot off his shoulder, taking a few steps back as Jotaro turned his head toward the group.

“What.” He finally said, and a small girl with bleach blond walked up. The face-mask covering the lower part of her face, the dark eyeshadow around her eyes and the very long-skirt reminded Kakyoin of old-style sukebans. “The punks from Karasuno are starting to act up again. What do we do?”

Jotaro narrowed his eyes. “Are they harassing anyone from school? And is Noguchi back on his bullshit?”

“No, and no.” The small girl answered.

“Then don’t do anything. If they come anywhere near the school, you guys can handle it. If Noguchi comes back with re-enforcement, don’t try anything and come get me as fast as possible. Got it, Sakurai?”

The girl groaned. “It’d be easier to ‘get you’ if you actually gave one of us your phone number!”

“Fuck off!”

“Hum, excuse me?” Kakyoin suddenly said, gaining the attention of the small group. “I’m currently living with Jotaro-san. If you have a message you want to relay to him, I could probably help.” He then got out his own phone, pointing at it as if to emphasize his point.

The group looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “And who are you supposed to be?” A guy with a pompadour and bandage over one of his eyes asked, and Kakyoin nearly dropped his phone in surprise.

It was the guy he had puppeted the nurse to stab in the eye on his first day, back when he was being mind-controlled.

“... Kakyoin Noriaki. I’m new.” He finally answered in a small voice, looking to the ground as he felt shame well up. He looked up at Jotaro as he felt the taller boy squeeze his hand.

“If any of you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Kakyoin-kun out of this shit.” He hissed, looming over the group of teenagers. The only one who didn’t back down was the diminutive blond (Sakurai, her name was Sakurai), who simply nodded and got her notebook out, turning toward the redhead.

“Alright, but I still need to be able to contact you fast. Kakyoin?” The redhead raised his head, and after exchanging numbers with Sakurai, the two boys parted way with the group of thugs.

Jotaro pulled his hat over his face. “Yare yare daze...” 

Kakyoin looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were in a gang.”

“I’m not.”

“They seemed pretty convinced you were in charge.”

“If I don’t help them beat up the delinquents from the other schools, they always end up coming after me. If I help them, they both leave me alone, and I get to punch out assholes.” Jotaro explained, Kakyoin nodding slowly.

“What’s the deal with this Noguchi person?” He asked, tilting his head. Jotaro groaned.

“My bully until I snapped in 2nd grade and started beating up people. We regularly had fist fights until 9th grade, and then he asked his parents to put him in a different school because I ended up putting a teacher in the hospital for being a creep. He still tries to harass me sometimes, and ” Kakyoin blinked in surprise.

“You put a teacher in the hospital?”

“I put several teachers in the hospital. Some of them are still recovering.” Jotaro told him, shrugging nonchalantly. “I hate people who try to use the weak for their own gain. My dad made sure to teach me that.”

-

“Alright, so we’ll have the usual family-size plate of sushi, with a bowl of ramen on the side for my brother.” Holly told the waitress, who nodded before walking off. Holly turned toward Jotaro. “Maybe you could-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I’m not going to pay for that one time I ordered kare raisu. It tasted like shit anyway.”

“It’s basic decency and not going against the law!”

“It was bad and they should feel bad for serving it!”

“So... uh... Kujo-san.” Kakyoin started, turning toward Sadao and trying to avoid the argument. “You’re a musician?”

Sadao blinked. “Uh... yeah. Pianist and song writer, but I can also play the guitar and drums.”

“Are you a solo artist?”

“No, me and my group have been together for... over twenty years, now that I think about it.”

“Uh.” Joey noted, joining the conversation. “You’ve been with your group for longer than you’ve been married to my sister.”

“Your group has also stayed together for longer than the Beatles.” Kakyoin noted, and Sadao laughed nervously.

“Yes, well... we’re practically partners in crime at this point. And we take breaks when we need to.” He noted. “We... used to be pretty infamous in our first few years. Shoko’s change from teen idol to jazz singer did ripples, and Yuichi and Kaede did not know how to stay out of trouble. Add to that our difficulties with agents...”

“What difficulties with agents?” Jotaro asked his father, turning toward him with a confused expression. “They all- all three of them- you guys always end up with cocaine addicts for agents, somehow!”

“Jotaro, being addicted to drugs isn’t a moral failing on their part.” Holly told her son, and Sadao nodded in agreement.

“No, but treating us like producing music is the only thing we’re good at is.” Sadao hissed. “Personally, I couldn’t be happier to never see these fuckers ever again.”

“You’re... surprisingly amoral.” Kakyoin noted, and the shorter man shrugged.

“I’ve been told that.” The discussion ended as their sushi and ramen was brought to the table, everyone thanking the waiter (Joey slightly behind the other four) before they started digging in.

“Anyway, Jotaro.” Holly piped up, turning toward her son. “Anything new happening at school?” The teenager shook his head between stuffing two sushis in his mouth.

“Any girlfriend?” Joey asked teasingly. Jotaro rolled his eyes. “A boyfriend, then?”

Jotaro shook his head, swallowing his bite. “I don’t. I’m not...”

“Jotaro, I’m sure we told you before, but your father and I don’t care whether or not you like boys instead of girls-”

“It’s not that.” The teen cut his mother off, shaking his head. “Can we talk about it at home? When we’re not in public?”

“Of course.” Holly reassured him, and the group resumed with eating their food, this time in silence.

About half-way through the dinner, a man with tall with hair and blue eyes approached them. “Excusez-moi,” He started, “j’ai besoin d’aide avec le menu, et je me demandais si vous pouviez m’aider?” Everyone looked at each other with confusion in their eyes, trying to decipher what the strange man had just said.

Holly finally took the reins. “Sorry, I didn’t understand... do you speak English?”

“Right! My apologies, mademoiselle, I didn’t realize.” The man excused himself with a smile that was just forced enough to put Kakyoin on edge. “I was asking if you could help me with the menu?”

“Literally the only good thing this restaurant serves is sushi, how difficult can it be read the menu- what?” Jotaro turned toward Kakyoin, who had put a hand on his shoulder. The redhead shook his head, a frown on his face.

“I have a bad feeling about this guy, like I saw him back when I... wasn’t myself. Just stay back, and be ready to call out your Stand.” The redhead muttered to him. Jotaro’s eyes widened, before nodding gravely as his mother invented the stranger to sit down at their table.

“My my, what a lovely little group we have here!” The man started. “Family, I suppose?”

“Why, yes! Well, beside Kakyoin-kun, he’s my son’s friend.” Holly declared cheerfully as said friend grabbed a napkin, cutting a strip of it with a knife he got out from his pocket. She blinked. “Kakyoin-kun, what are you doing?”

The redhead blinked, before smiling awkwardly. “Don’t worry, Ho- Seiko-san,” he remembered in the nick of time she liked to be called a different name in public. “Just making some origami.”

“Alright! Tell me when you’re finished, please?” Holly asked, and Kakyoin nodded. He quickly folded the paper, the discussions between the rst of the table’s occupants fading to background noises. If this guy really is on Dio’s side, then he won’t resist...

“Aaaaand ta-da~” Kakyoin exclaimed, showing off the small origami star to everyone at the table. Impressed sounds came up for everyone, Holly taking the star and passing it around.

“You did this with a napkin?” Sadao asked as the star ended up in his hand, an inquisitive expression on his face. Kakyoin nodded, and the older man flashed him a surprisingly cute smile. “You’ve got some talent, then.” The teenager blushed at the praise, but quickly snapped out of it as the paper was passed to the stranger. Moment of truth.

“Indeed, this is impressive!” He started, slowly lifting the little paper star to his neck. “You know... I know someone with a mark shaped just like that on the back of his neck...”

Called it. 

“STAND BACK, HE’S AN ENEMY STAND USER!” Kakyoin yelled, summoning Hierophant in a shower of watery green sparkles. Jotaro and Joey followed suit, the purple warrior appearing in a burst of stardust and a being with multiple fanged mouth in what looked like a sound’s wavelength.

At the same time, a strange knight-like being shimmered into existence next to the stranger, who clapped as if he was congratulating Kakyoin. “Bravo! How did you guess I was after them?”

The redhead’s mouth turned into a snarl, a watery hiss coming from Hierophant. “With DIO parading around naked every chances he gets, it’s kind of hard not to notice the literal tattoo on his ne-”

“Birth mark.” Joey suddenly said, his head turned toward Kakyoin with his eyes round like saucers. “It’s a birthmark, it’s not his, and we’re gonna have to talk about that later.”

“Oh? Awfully bold of you to assume there’s gonna be a later, Monsieur Joestar.” The stranger mocked Joey. A growl built up in the taller man’s throat, echoed and amplified by his Stand’s.

“Alright, alright, everyone calm down.” Holly called out, getting up and gesturing with her hands. “Let’s not fight inside of the restaurant. Causing a scene is the last thing we want. Kakyoin-kun?” She turned toward the redhead with an unusual harsh expression. When she saw the redhead flinch back in surprise, it softened. “We’ll talk about this... Dio person later, alright?”

“... Alright.”

“As for you,” the only woman in their group turned backtoward the stranger, glaring.”What is your name?”

“Why, it’s Jean-Pierre Polnareff!” He answered. 

Holly nodded, a forced smile appearing on her face as she folded her hands, slowly making her way to Polnareff. “Well then, Polnareff-san, I am Holly Kujo. And I-” She suddenly cracked her knuckles, yellow light and darks vines wrapping around her hands and forearms. “Will be your opponent.”

[hatari-translations]

Vikan með Gísla Marteini (22.11.19) - translation

On November 22nd, Matthías was on talk show Vikan með Gísla Marteini (The Week with Gísli Marteinn), plus Andrean as a surprise guest near the end, where they talked about, among other things, the protest Hatari were about to play at, the Eurovision Palestine banner protest, and their experience performing in Russia.

Most of the show before Andrean comes in isn't particularly relevant to Hatari fans, but I still translated anything substantial Matthías says plus relevant context. If you just want the main bit about the Moscow concert, scroll down to the "Moscow and the rainbow wings" heading under the cut.

Protests and politics

As always, Gísli Marteinn is a popular talk show host and also the Icelandic Eurovision commentator. The guests on the show this time are:

- Matthías, whom we know, introduced as "hater [Hatari], artist and playwright" - Bubbi Morthens, one of Iceland's most beloved musicians, who wrote many classic songs; a musical based on his life is premiering soon - Björk Vilhelmsdóttir, former city council member, who was recently arrested in Israel

Host Gísli Marteinn opens the show by saying it's a month until the days start to get longer again. Seasonal depression is pretty common in Iceland, and he asks if the guests do anything special to maintain their mental health in the darkest part of the year. Matthías responds: "No, the winter is my time. It's more in the summer that I have to try to stay grounded. I think it's fine."

After a segment with some jokes about the news, which include the whole corruption scandal about Samherji:

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Matthías, you're in an anticapitalist band.

MATTHÍAS: Very much so.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: How do these issues going on in the country right now strike you?

MATTHÍAS: It's perhaps illustrative of the values that capitalism - or late capitalism, maybe neoliberalism, dunno - instills in the hearts of young, up-and-coming scammers and moguls. No, that was...

GÍSLI MARTEINN: You never quite know when Hatari is joking about the anticapitalism.

MATTHÍAS: That was the take that we in Hatari have gone with, and we'll be keeping it aloft at Austurvöllur tomorrow, at two o'clock.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: You'll be playing there?

MATTHÍAS: Yes. It's "Democracy, not plutocracy", an event arranged by the Constitution Society [organization campaigning for the new Icelandic constitution, which was written by a democratically elected council of members of the public and overwhelmingly approved of in a national referendum in 2012, to be actually implemented instead of being stuck in a drawer like it has been] and other organizations -

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Unions...

MATTHÍAS: Yes, Efling [one of Iceland's largest unions], the Icelandic Disability Alliance came in too, and other organizations. So it's big organizations behind this, and I think it's imperative to show through action that this kind of behaviour... that you care, whether you agree with all of... Look, yeah. No, just show up.

They talk about anticapitalism and the scandal for a bit.

Israel and the flag incident

GÍSLI MARTEINN: On to something slightly different. Matthías, last time you were here, you were on the way to Eurovision.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah, we wore those specially designed tracksuits.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Yeah. I've got here one of the most famous objects of 2019 in Iceland, and that's this... this flag here.

He pulls out the Palestine banner that Matthías held in the green room.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: The nation was shocked by the Samherji news, but I think the shock was greater when this was pulled out.

BJÖRK: The joy was greater!

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Yeah, but still shock! I don't necessarily mean shock in a negative way. I'll just say for myself, I could barely believe you were doing this. Walk us through it a bit, I mean, how... You were incredibly stressed about doing this.

MATTHÍAS: Yes, and there's a lot of uncertainty, as I've talked about before, in that situation. Some 9000 people start booing, viciously. And I also spoke to people who were in Berlin and other places, who were at Eurovision events that might be sponsored by some Israeli company, people pepping up Israel and Eurovision, and there are Icelanders in the crowd just watching the show, and how the crowds, not just in Tel Aviv but all around Europe, just fill up with rage. It's strange how that's what you feel, you can't feel the viewer behind the camera like you can at a concert, where we're in our element. So the love comes later through social media, and messages and reactions from people that we talk to, and there was way more of it, but that rage is the first thing you feel.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Right. But you had to smuggle this in somehow. Where did you keep this?

MATTHÍAS: Just inside of the beltline or in our boots - not out of any disrespect for the flag, it was just a method for...

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Didn't you buy this in a toy store or something?

MATTHÍAS: I actually didn't buy it, it was the reporters at Iceland Music News who took a trip and bought this for us. We're just in the whole Eurovision bubble, keeping the wheels turning.

Gísli Marteinn asks the others about their reactions to the flag stunt. Bubbi rants a bit about the Israeli state's policy of violence, then Gísli Marteinn asks Björk about how she got arrested in Israel. She says they didn't know she was Icelandic at the time, so Gísli Marteinn quips, "So it wasn't Matti's fault." Björk says the Palestinians really notice Icelanders, and noticed the incident, and talks about how she's so impressed with how just this one word ["PALESTINE" on the banners] shattered the rosy image they'd been trying to build up for Eurovision. She rants a bit too, about why we're being made to pay a fine just for displaying a word.

MATTHÍAS: Like there aren't a bunch of Israeli flags there. That was kind of a justification for me personally; there are a bunch of Israeli flags.

They move on to Björk’s arrest. She was there at the Gaza border with three other volunteers for the International Women's Peace Service. She had not been intending to get arrested; at one point they were going to be waving Palestinian flags at the border just to let people know they were not alone, but had been threatened with arrest, so she actually specifically didn't come to that bit. They’re vague about the arrest, so I looked up another article for the details. The actual arrest happened when they were with Palestinian farmers helping them pick olives; a settler came up and acted threatening, they ignored him, and he called the Israeli army, who arrived and told them they were in a militarily restricted area, asked for their passports, and arrested them when they didn’t have them with them.

Björk has brought European blueberry squash that she made, and everyone has some.

Theater and Bubbi Morthens

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Despite your young age, you've won an award for your achievements in theater. You wrote an amazing play about a man who gets stuck in IKEA.

MATTHÍAS: Griðastaður.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Griðastaður. If you were writing the play about Bubbi that's being staged this winter, how would you have approached the project?

MATTHÍAS: I probably would've approached it kind of like Ólafur Egill [Egilsson, writer/director of the Bubbi musical] said he would approach it. That is to say, he talked about the concept of Bubbi. Not necessarily personally about the human being, but just about Bubbi as a phenomenon hovering over the nation. That's how Ólafur talked about it, I think before the process started, or I don't know how far he'd gotten.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Bubbi isn't a man, he's an atmosphere.

MATTHÍAS: Yes. He's a part of all of us.

Bubbi talks about how he's read the script and was shocked because it's pretty merciless (he had explicitly asked to not be consulted as the script was being written). He ends up saying he's anxious, scared, but really happy and excited; Matthías says "I'm just happy and excited."

Environmentalism and the climate

Gísli Marteinn asks Björk about some greenhouses that are scheduled to be built just below where she lives, and she talks about how unnecessary construction isn't good for the environment.

MATTHÍAS: But speaking of the environment, there's one thing you didn't cover in the "News of the Week" segment, and that's the Kastljós citizens' assembly on the climate. [This was a special episode of Kastljós on November 19th, featuring a live discussion on climate change with various scientists, politicians, environmentalist, and one anthropogenic global warming skeptic journalist.] I thought that show was awesome! I'd watch it if it was on every week, just every Tuesday night.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: The same episode?

MATTHÍAS: Just the same... with new people and so on.

Björk suggests he should see author and environmentalist Andri Snær Magnason's show at the City Theater, an accompaniment to his recent book, where he discusses climate change. Matthías says, “The book is on my bedside table right now. I'll have to get started on that.”

Moscow and the rainbow wings

GÍSLI MARTEINN: I'm going to pivot a bit, because Matthías just got home from Moscow, and we saw on the news that you made some ripples over there, because as we know the Pride Parade has regularly been banned there...

MATTHÍAS: And any kind of "propaganda" is just banned.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: But Hatari, as this...

MATTHÍAS: Propaganda machine.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Yeah! [laughs] And beneath it there's this satire on, shall we say, fascist methods and so on.

MATTHÍAS: Totally.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: How were you received in Moscow?

MATTHÍAS: Actually, we've never been as well received by any audience, just...

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Amazing!

MATTHÍAS: Just, "by a long shot", to use an English phrase. The love in the room was so palpable, and there were Pride flags, and there were gay and lesbian couples, and people were still jumping around and singing an hour after we left the stage. I've never seen anything like it.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: That's good to hear!

BUBBI: Isn't it typical for a dictatorship, that underneath that's there?

BJÖRK: People thirst for those human rights.

MATTHÍAS: Yeah.

BUBBI: That joy, and...

GÍSLI MARTEINN: That's probably true. But I saw a video, and I don't think it diminishes anything to say that the high point...

BUBBI: It was amazing!

GÍSLI MARTEINN: ...was when Andrean walked in...

MATTHÍAS: Definitely.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: We've got him on the show as a surprise guest! Andrean, come in!

Andrean walks in, to cheering.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Andrean had this thing he has on his back built for him. Please spread your wings, my friend!

Andrean unfurls the wings, to further cheers. Bubbi launches into a bit of one of his songs, "Strákarnir á Borginni", a 1984 song criticizing the violent homophobia of the time.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: Andrean, congratulations on what you did. I know you came up with this on your own, to have this built and then spread those wings on the stage in Moscow.

ANDREAN: Yeah, I did. I actually - I didn't build this myself, I got Haraldur Leví at the National Theater to create the mechanism and then Alexía Rós, talented seamstress, made the wings.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: I know this was - you had to steel yourself, it's not just literally heavy on your back, but mentally heavy as well.

ANDREAN: Yeah, very. I was honestly terrified to take this there. The guys were there before me, they went to St. Petersburg. I didn't want to go first to St. Petersburg and then to Moscow, where the story would spread, and...

MATTHÍAS: Also, the Moscow gig was a lot bigger, so you picked the right one.

ANDREAN: But so I was traveling alone with this, and I was just... There are horrible stories that you hear from Russia, about violence and sometimes murders of LGBTQIA people, so I was constantly fearing the worst and didn't trust anyone, and had a bunch of conspiracy theories that I'm not going to get into. But then everything went really well, and as soon as you got to the venue, then you immediately felt the presence of like-minded people. As soon as I stepped onto the stage, there was just this sharing of love between everyone.

MATTHÍAS: The Russians were shouting, "Andrean! Andrean!"

GÍSLI MARTEINN: I saw that on the video! Everyone knew your name, you got so much love from the audience...

ANDREAN: Yeah. And really the idea came about when we were out in Tel Aviv. I started waving the Pride flag in the Green Room, and I happened to be positioned so that I was between the host and someone they were talking to, and was there in the middle waving this flag. And for us Icelanders it's just become really mundane, thankfully, and it's just a beautiful rainbow flag, but we often forget it's a highly political flag as well, in many countries that are participating in the contest. And I just got a deluge of messages, especially from Eastern Europe and especially Russia, where people were sharing their love, and stories, horrible stories. Which encouraged me to do something crazy.

GÍSLI MARTEINN: I just say this was awesome! Congratulations and thank you for coming and showing this to us. I know you have a full-time job with the Iceland Dance Company, and like everyone around Hatari you're doing a million different things.

Then he introduces the next segment, Berglind Festival going around exploring how come Icelanders are apparently reading more books in the past couple of years. In the vein of her Hatari segment, it's pretty funny (also, one of the people she interviews is the aforementioned Andri Snær Magnason), but it has nothing to do with Hatari, so I'm not translating that. The show closes off with a performance of the song "Namminef" (Candy Nose), by the band "Bland í poka" (Mixed Candy Bag).

[ladyeliot]

Stay with me

Prequel to  It will always be you.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: Because of the consequences of your actions, 117 nations come together to create the Sokovia Accords. Now a decision hangs over you, whether to sign them or not, whatever you do will have repercussions.

Warnings: Angst.

Word count: 3702

A/N: Civil War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

The evidence was clear, the position you were currently in had come about because of some very poor performance on your part, the news had echoed the catastrophes you had caused, especially the attack on Lagos, the governments had lined up to stop it and come to a common agreement to keep you under their command. Deep down you all knew that day would come, though you were confident it would be further away. It had been almost four years since Tony Stark had rescued you from your past, from being a contraption held in a laboratory for research. You had been offered a future where you no longer had to run or hide, you had been offered freedom, a purpose in life, but that bundle of paperwork in front of your eyes was meant to make you a prisoner of the government once again.

The discussion had been getting louder and louder, the different opinions countering each other were causing the nerves to come to the fore, alternating the atmosphere. Although the resolution was clear, there was nothing to be done, you were either with them or against them, becoming a fugitive wanted by the whole world. The Sokovia Accords were established by the United Nations and ratified by 117 nations, and what they proposed was to regulate the activities of the altered individuals, namely that the Avengers would cease to be a private organisation, and from now on would operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, and only when and if that panel deemed it necessary.

There was no turning back, the consequences had been placed before you for the acts you had committed, it was a one way street, not a return. Secretary Ross had been in charge of presenting you with the whole set of papers that would have to be signed by you, but convincing you all to agree was not going to be so easy. 

“So let's say we agree to this thing,” Sam said, unresponsive to the situation. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“A 117 countries want to sign this,” Rhodes reminded him.  “117, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

Unlike them, you chose to keep a few metres away from the meeting table, remain silent and meditate with yourself on the proposal, not that you didn't know the pros and cons or the consequences of not signing the agreements, but that you wanted to analyse the situation from different points of view without the others questioning your opinions.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal," Natasha said, turning her gaze to Tony.

“It's because he's already made up his mind,” Steve's tone seemed harsher than usual.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony countered sarcastically, then turned his gaze and gestured in your direction.  "She does seem to have made up her mind what her decision is."

You felt the gaze of everyone present focus on you, who unlike him preferred to be absorbed in the shadows, hiding from the attention of your companions. But in the end, perhaps his words were true and you had made a decision, a decision that you were not going to allow anyone to choose for you.

"I guess it's not as simple as you're trying to make us believe Tony," your tone was calm and affable, knowing that you were about to receive a sarcastic and ironic counterattack from him.

"Simple?" he gets up from the sofa raising his hands, walking towards the kitchen area, where you were sitting on a stool. "You think it's simple for me?" he pulls a mobile device out of his pocket and sets it down right in front of you on the top, the device projecting an image of a smiling young man. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia."

You look down, you understand perfectly what he means, you remember what happened in Sokovia, you remember because you were there, you saw with your own eyes what happened and also the consequences of your actions. But you knew that any decision had consequences and they could have been much worse if you had not acted, although there were also causes for your own fault.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose," Tony continued, looking directly at you, his tone rising and stiffening. "I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

After his last word, silence filled the room, everyone in the room was reliving the ghosts of the past. Tony definitely realising that you weren't going to look up to return his gaze decided to head back into the room with the others.

"There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes..."

You felt his voice trailing off, then Steve seemed to come in to debate various points, but you could barely focus on what each of them was saying. An internal struggle was going on inside you, and you couldn't wait to see who was going to win.

"I have to go."

You looked up after hearing those words spoken by Steve, his body rose energetically, dropping the agreements from his hand. That was the beginning of all the consequences that were to come after we had made the decision not to sign.

Your steps were decisive, you walked through those long corridors that had become your home for the last few years, knowing that you would most likely never see them again, or at least not for an indefinite period of time. You truly believed you had made a decision, a decision that could become the decision of a lifetime, a before and after in the life process you had created for yourself. You believed that you knew the consequences, that you would be willing to face them as they came. You knew there were going to be setbacks, obstacles, but you didn't expect one as big as him to stand in your way.

"So you've made your decision?" the figure of Tony stood in the doorway of your room, a serious look on his face seeming to immobilise you. "Are you going to leave with Steve?

"I think it's for the best," your words were blunt, as you packed your most essential belongings into a rucksack.

His body entered your room just before the door closed behind him. You knew Tony well enough to know that his next words to you were likely to make an impression on you, but your mind was made up.

"Did you hear anything I just said in the living room?" he pursed his lips and ran his fingers nervously over them.

"Don't make this difficult for me," those words left your lips almost as a plea.

You barely looked at him, your back was turned to him and your eyes were focused on the inside of that backpack that seemed to have no end.

"I suppose you know that your decision is a single ticket," his words were firm. "That you're basically signing your own fucking sentence."

"No," you dropped the backpack and turned to him to find yourself face to face. "That's exactly what I'm running from," you sighed. "I think you of all people know that I know what it's like to be someone's property, that I've been for far too long and that's what really scares me," your pupils dilated as you remembered every single moment you'd lived hidden from the world, being an experiment. "I don't need guys in ties fighting for their own interests telling me what to do or where to go, because my freedom ends when they command me," the seriousness on Tony's face had relaxed, he kept his gaze on his feet and nodded. "I want you to know that I'm going with Steve because you had already made your decision."

The tension spread slightly around you, so much was hidden in those words, much more than what was shown. The complexity of the situation went far beyond signing or not signing the agreements, it was the break-up of a group, of friends, of family, something that could never be put back together again.

"I... I don't know if I'm going to be able to protect you," Tony clenched his jaw as he denied to himself, resting his brown eyes on yours again.

"I never asked you to."

You knew perfectly well how much your words must have hurt him, and what he meant when he said he couldn't protect you. There were so many hidden things in the air, but this was not the right time to start that conversation, maybe it was too late, nothing was going to change things so you asked yourself to please not make things more complicated. You turned around and nimbly zipped up your backpack, everything you had of great sentimental value was inside.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hanging the backpack over your right shoulder and looking up at him.

"You're not sorry," his tone became serious, but at the same time indifferent, he was hurt. His gaze turned away from yours.

"This isn't what I wanted to happen," you whispered hoping that wasn't the last image you would see of him before you left.

"So, all you have to do was stay," those were the words that almost caused something inside you to stir, but you only gave a small, wistful smile as you looked at his face.

"You know I can't," you whispered hoping he wouldn't extract his share of indifference towards you again. "Please don't make it more complicated for me, because I can't deal with you right now.”

It was impossible to explain to you at that moment the dilemma that was building up inside you. On the one hand your ethics and your values were what prevented you from signing those damn papers that limited and curtailed your freedoms, it was something you assumed. On the other hand, how could it be so hard to leave Tony, why, what was going on right now that you couldn't face?

"Maybe you should just leave now," Tony slipped his hands into his Tom Ford trouser pockets and focused his gaze on the door to your room.

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowed and your lips parted as you didn't expect those words at all, you were ready to start an internal struggle, but he had already sentenced the conversation.

"Alright," you muttered, taking a step backwards, away from him. "Bye Tony."

As you got closer to that door a lump settled tighter in your throat, like a dramatic movie you expected him to say something to stop you at any moment, but he didn't. The door opened and allowed you to leave. The corridors seemed miles long, perhaps because time was slowing down. A black car could be seen from the wide glass windows, there were Steve and Sam waiting for you. A guilty smile appeared on your face as you walked back through the hall, bidding farewell to those present.

As you stepped outside, the air seemed to open up your lungs again, which had been stuck after the last goodbye you had said to Tony. Sam was inside the car, and Steve took care of getting your rucksack into the boot, along with his shield and Sam's wings.

"Are you all right?" muttered Steve, to which your response was a gentle nod.

As you rested your hand on the handle to open the car door, you couldn't help but direct your gaze towards the top of the building, right where you had left Tony a few minutes ago. But there was definitely no sign coming from that spot to stop you from continuing on your way.

The next few days the situation became more complex than anyone here would have expected. Agent Carter's funeral passed without incident, Natasha appeared to inform you that she was leaving for Vienna to sign the agreements, that there was still a chance for you to change your minds, but none of you did. Perhaps it was for the best, because during the signing an attack happened on the spot, an attack that changed the course of things. All eyes were on the Winter Soldier, Bucky, that directed Steve, Sam and you to Bucharest in a supposed attempt to get to Bucky before the authorities did.

"They're on the roof," Sam reported over the intercom.

"Steve get out of there right now," you said hiding on the roof of the building next door. "I can sense you but I can't surround your body with psychic energy unless you come out into the open."

That day was one of the worst failures you had ever managed to pull off, perhaps it was obvious that things didn't go quite right when feelings ran high, and it showed in Steve, especially when law enforcement trapped you in that tunnel.

"Stand down, now," War machine appeared before you to end the fatal chase and set you on your way to Berlin.

You knew what would follow, there was only one way out or the consequences would be far more extreme, either sign the agreements or become prisoners of the law. Things were different for you, Captain could have his shield removed, Sam could have his wings removed and T'Challa, who had appeared in pursuit out of nowhere could have his suit removed too, but you and Bucky were far more dangerous, especially as your powers and dangers were in the mind.

When you arrived at the facility in that armoured truck Bucky was put in an extreme protection capsule, that marked memory making you remember the past time.

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Steve walking beside you in the direction of Everett Ross, Deputy Commander of the Joint Forces.

"The same as you. Psychological evaluation and extradition," he focused his gaze on you.  "Miss Y/L/N, let's hope you'll be cooperative."

You understood his words, you knew the fear you could cause, force could be controlled, the mind was much more complicated.

"Of course," you affirmed with all your good intentions.

You didn't know where, but you assumed that in a few minutes you were going to meet him again in some remote part of that building, you could feel it. First it was Natasha who approached you, and then when you stepped inside the control room there was Tony, talking on the phone.

"[...] consequences?" he turned his body towards you, his gaze fixed on you, which made you cross your arms and look around, avoiding her. "Of course there will be consequences."

"Consequences?" asked Steve with a serious look on his face.

"Secretary Ross wants to prosecute the three of you. I had to give something."

You walked away from them, realising that you had two armed men following your every step around that room. You watched the monitors, every corner of the planet seemed to be controlled by them, there was nothing they could miss, you could even see yourself reflected in one of them.

"Is it worth it?" you turned your face to find yourself face to face with the one who had made you doubt your decision a few days ago.

He took his right hand out of one of his trouser pockets and made a slight gesture for the two security officers who had been assigned to you to move a little away from you, offering you some privacy.

"What do you mean?" you cocked your head to one side. Your voice was stiff, you were tense enough about the situation to offer him a friendly tone.

"I don't know, was it worth risking everything to find yourself back here with possible legal charges?" you didn't deny it, Tony's words hurt.

"Are you rejoicing?" you squinted, uncrossing your arms and turning your whole body towards him.

"How do you think this will all end?" he ran his index finger down the side of his mouth, his nervousness showing. Those words made you shudder. "Now you have a chance, don't let it slip away."

"Please, don't make this worse than it already is," your pleas were in vain. The last thing you wanted right now was a lecture from Tony.

"This wouldn't even abe problem, if you wouldn't make one out of it!" his voice was authoritative.

Your refusals and hesitations had gotten on his nerves, it was evident in the way he was addressing you. That was the last thing you wanted to do, to cause trouble, but it was clear that you were on the defensive against any verbal attack Tony might offer you. Sparks could almost fly between your gazes, which were still on after the conversation was over. You had no idea what was going to happen next, so you were grateful that Natasha caught Tony's attention at that moment, breaking into a battle that wasn't going anywhere.

The hours passed really slowly, so you found a space in a glassed-in conference room to settle in, under, of course, the watchful eye of the guards in charge of you, until you were called in for your psychological analysis.

"Do you need anything?" the door closed behind him.

"Are you playing good cop?" you asked watching as he dropped his blazer on a chair and sat down right next to you. "You're not giving up, are you?"

"I'll take every last cartridge," he leaned his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand. "You know, I was just remembering earlier when we all went to that Italian restaurant in Soho on your birthday, and then we were at the concert by.... Oh, what was the name of the band? "

"What are you trying Tony?" you cocked your head to the side with a small smile on your face.

"I'm trying to... how do you say?" he rested his index finger on your lips. "Signing a peace agreement? Trying to get to your sensitive spot, because you have one, right?"

"I don't know, I guess if you have one I might as well, huh?" you arched an eyebrow, intertwining your fingers on the table, causing him to make a gesture of placing his hands on yours, but he never got to touch them by restraining himself, so you ignored the gesture.  "Do you want to sign a peace agreement with me, or do you want me to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

He took a breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. He was completely frustrated, you knew it, you could feel it, he had rarely been involved in those situations that were out of his control.

"Listen," he paused slightly, bringing his fingers to his chin. "I think it's time that I..." he tore his gaze away from yours, let it wander, searching for his words as he gestured with his right hand. "I've tried many times, to do this but.... God, this really is the worst time to do it." He looked around nervously and then crossed his arms, but quickly pulled them apart. "Whatever. We're... well, I... it's likely that I, maybe, can feel..."

You would remember that moment all your life, especially since you wouldn't know until many years later what he meant to say to you. At that moment the lights went out, the monitors stopped working and everything was dark around you, only red flickering lights would have made their way into your darkness. Your head swivelled around you in search of whatever it was that was going on, Tony got up from his seat and placed his glasses over his eyes.

"Friday, give me the source of the blackout," he said to himself.

Finally your eyes focused on Steve and Sam, who were standing next to Sharon in the next room. You listened as Sharon informed them of Bucky's location, and a last glance towards you informed you that they were going to head that way, but just as you were about to leave that meeting room a hand came down hard around your arm.

"Stay with me," the trembling words that came from his lips seemed to shake your insides.

"I can't," you mumbled through your teeth almost with all the pain in your heart.

His fingers loosened, allowing you to leave the room as quickly as possible, but you took one last second to contemplate his face and how many feelings were hidden in it. You knew you only had one chance, everyone present was distracted enough to find the reason for the blackout, you had only a few seconds to get out of the room without being seen, and a couple of minutes before they noticed, so you didn't take long to do it.

A new decision piled up on your list, always facing the consequences you had acquired, and fighting against the feelings your heart presented to you. It wasn't easy, you hadn't given it much thought either, but what you did know was that you didn't regret having done it, at least so far.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[all-hail-the-witcher]

every book i had to read for english and why i didn't like any of them

i woke up thinking about this and decided to make this post. for context, i went to public school and was on the honors/ap track for english. i am a firm believer that english teachers ruin books for their students inadvertently. this is my experience:

6th grade language arts

we read three books during 6th grade, bridge to terabithia, the cay, and where the red fern grows. and i had to read a wrinkle in time over the summer which i didn't understand like at all so I'm just gonna skip that one honors english was not a thing until 8th grade where i went to middle school so this was a regular english class and i hated it. it was also a double period class for some reason, so i had an hour and a half of language arts every day. 

it took us half the year to read bridge to terabithia. i am not kidding. that book is like maybe 100 pages and it took us a good 4-5 months. this is because our teacher stopped us every time we got to a pice of figurative language and made us analyze it. every. single. piece. i got so bored that i read ahead and then got in trouble for reading ahead. needless to say, i absolutely detested bridge to terabithia and would not touch it to this day if my life depended on it. 

after bridge to terabithia we read the cay. this took us the rest of the year. the cay is a relatively short book as well so i got bored with this one quickly as well. i really dont remember much about the discussions, but i remember a long one about how the cover was “inaccurate,” which, yes, it was but i dont know if a bunch of 11 and 12 year olds need to spend a week debating that. i think i hated it mostly because, again, we read it for 5 months. 

the last three weeks of the school year, our teacher gave us a book and said “here read this before school ends because we have to read three books a year and we only read 2″ (for context, the other language arts class had read about 5-7 books that year and found it insane that we were “still reading bridge to terabithia”) so i read where the red fern grows. all in all it wasn't a bad book, i did kind of enjoy it, but since i was rushed reading it on top of all my other homework and because it was definitely ahead of my reading comprehension level, it wasn't my favorite.

7th grade language arts

now, a bit of a disclaimer here, this was the year that i was in language arts with the guy i had a crush on and one of my close friends at the time. so, i didn't really pay that much attention to begin with. we read quite a few books in this class, but I'm not sure if i remember all of them. again, this was a double period. 

i think the first book we read was freak the mighty. i remember not liking this book because i felt like i was missing something. there was definitely some kind of metaphor or something in there that i was supposed to get but because i was literally twelve i didn't get it and i didn't find the meaning in it. theres nothing more frustrating than reading a book that you dont understand.

after that I'm pretty sure we read the wave. it was explained to us that the wave is supposed to symbolize how the n*zis came to power and all that stuff, and while we all knew this, i dont think we really Understood it. (probably because we were 12). we all kinda saw it as a joke and thought it was funny. i think that if i read it now i would be like. “well shit this is really interesting” but 12 year old me wanted to make fun of it with the rest of my class. 

i think we read seed folks next. this was another book that just went over all of our heads. its about how a garden changes a whole bunch of peoples lives which is like, super interesting. but none of us got it and were like “lol this is stupid” so much so that we actually stopped reading it. like my teacher stopped having us read it.

I'm fairly certain the last book we read was the miracle worker. a lot of us had had to read parts of it before that class so we were all kinda familiar with it already. i vaguely remember some kind of obnoxious class joke about the book that was probably rude. i remember finding it interesting, but there were so many activities we did about the book that i lost interest. 

8th grade honors reading

this class was A Trip. i liked the teacher, but she was a little out there. its unclear whether she got fired or just didn't come back after that year. i had a lot of fun in her class but it was usually because we all bonded over hating the assigned reading.

i dont remember what order we read the books in and i dont remember if this was all of them, but to the best of my recollection this is what we read

we definitely read romeo and juliet. by the time you're in 8th grade, everyone knows the story of romeo and juliet, so it wasn't like that suspenseful or a surprise or anything. but we had to act the reading out. yes we had to act out romeo and juliet. with burger king crowns. and wrapping paper swords. clearly the teacher was trying to have fun with us, and it was fun fun for awhile but it got old. especially when you got participation points taken off your grade if you didn't read for once of the characters (which is massively unfair because not everyone wants to get up in front of a class in a paper crown holding a wrapping paper tube and read in old english when you're 13 but whatever). 

we also definitely read animal farm. it was another book that went right over our heads (or, mine at least). i didn't actually really understand it until i had to read the communist manifesto for ap euro senior year. and our teacher talked in a bad russain accent the entire time? i could barely keep the characters straight, let alone analyze the underlying message and all that. now i might actually like it since I'm a history major and have a decent background on the russian revolution, but at 13? no thanks.

the one book that everyone hated (including the teacher herself) was farewell to manzanar. it was a memoir about a young girl growing up in the japanese internment camps and looking back on her life and stuff like that. the story itself was very interesting and we all learned a lot from it. but the person who wrote it did not know how to write. it was confusing, some chapters made no sense, and none of us generally knew what was going on. we had to finish the book because we were the honors class, but the regular class got to stop after chapter 6. 

i think we only read 4 books that year and the fourth one was the outsiders. this was one of two books that i actually liked the entirely of my public school education. i kinda vibed with it when we were reading it and then i vibes with it more once i got to high school and rediscovered it. it was just a good book, pretty solid, good themes, fantastic. 

9th grade honors english

i absolutely hated this class. hands down the worst teacher i ever had. she was one of those that should have retired 20 years ago but was still teaching for some reason. and she hated kids. legitimately. that was the first time i got a c and it took my parents a long time to realize that it wasn't because of me, it was because the teacher was absolute shit. the only thing that made that class bearable was the fact that my friend was in there and so was this guy that totally like her so he would flirt with her pretty incessantly and it was Hilarious. 

we read so many books that year and i hated all of them. a lot of them were like greek dramas and plays? like we read oedipus rex and julius caesar and antigone. and i hated all of them because the teacher made me hate reading and made it seem like a chore. 

by far the worst was the old man and the sea. i hated that book, hemingway was terrible. i struggled to find any kind of meaning in it and connected all of my responses to the bible because my teacher loved it when people did that.

we read inherit the wind and to kill a mockingbird and all quiet on the western front which were the only books i found remotely interesting. but i still hated them because i knew that we would have to do her reading quizzes which were impossible so it was pointless to read the book anyway. 

and we also read a raisin in the sun. i dont remember what this was even about except that there was some kind of insurance money involved. but by this point we were all really done with our teachers shit and my one friend legitimately said during class “but, ms. [name] if you put a raisin in the sun, doesn't it just get more raisiny?”

10th grade ap english language and composition (american lit)

i loved this class and the teacher but i hated all the assigned reading because we read it for the ap test. everything you read was in the context of having to find themes and shit to write about on the ap. so i didn't really get any of the books for that reason. i think we only read three and they were the scarlet letter, the crucible, and the great gatsby. i kind wish i paid more attention to gatsby and i think i would like it more now but at the time i detested it. we also had to read grapes of wrath over the summer and i hated that. i wanna read books to read them, not to come into school and write essays on them. also the ending was weird and i hated it.

11th grade honors (british lit)

another bad year of english, not quite as bad as freshman year, but still bad. still hated it. i outlined many fics in that class. the teacher did not like me and i did not like her. she also talked in this weird fake almost british but not quite accent that sometimes still haunts my nightmares. she was also one of those backwards feminists who claims they're a feminist but still was sexist in her favorites and the way that she treated people in the class?? after english i had math and my friend (the same girl who said the thing about raisins freshman year) and some others would complain to our math teacher about our english teacher. math was essentially a support group for english where we would discuss answers to reading checks. 

over the summer we read 1984, which, cool concept (esp right now) but i hated knowing that i had to find some kind of deep meaning in it because i was going to have to write an essay on it as soon as i came back to school.

from there i think we read beowulf which was interesting. i dont know if we actually read the whole thing or just excerpts but again, i hated looking for meaning.

we read a tale of two cities which was like the one book i actually wanted to read because i am a huge fan of the shadow hunters book serieses and will and tessa quote that book all the time. i think if i had read it to read it it would have been better but first, dickens is wordy and weird and second i dont really wanna have to search out symbolism while I'm reading because its required.

we read macbeth, which i just didn't like. idk why. i just kinda thought it was stupid. i dont really have an explanation for this one. i think it was because we read it in the old english and that confused me a lot of the time.

and we read jane eyre. the only thing i remember from jane eyre was “pathetic fallacy” which is where the mood of the scene is reflected in the weather. i dont wanna dissect a book like that. and also my teacher referred to the book as “jane” but she said it “jAAYYneeE” which was annoying. 

12th grade ap lit

dear god. this class. i had issues with this class. our teacher was something. everyone was afraid of him. e v e r y o n e. he ran detention and didn't know how to match his clothes and wore skinny ties. he had three swell bottles the he would bring with him to school every day. people claimed he used to be in a rock band and that was why his voice was so high pitched and weird. some said his wife left him, others said he had a kid. we were genuinely confused by him. he didn't teach, he yelled at you for doing things wrong without giving any instructions on how he actually wanted it done. he made college out to be some big scary thing where we would all be trampled. but mostly, he was an existentialist. 

we had to read song of solomon over the summer. i hated it. i didn't hate it because of the messages and all that stuff, no the book itself was good and toni morrison is a great author. i just hated the fact that there was graphic description of incest, necrophilia, or sex at least once every 5-10 pages. i didn't wanna read that. and it turned me off the book. so when he asked us if we liked the book when the year started i said no and i argued with him about it. and he hated me for the entire year. 

next i think we read waiting for godot. which was absolutely terrible. its literally a play where nothing happens. it would have been funny except that i knew i was gonna have to write an essay on it. how do you write an essay on a play where nothing happens? literally all of our discussions about it were about existentialism and it was terrible. 

we read the metamorphosis, which everyone hated cause it could have been written in like 4 sentences. and our teacher thought he was So Clever for assigning it to us. he thought it was the biggest joke. and he went on and on about how its about existentialism and blah blah. the book would have been funny had he not only discussed it in regards to existentialism. 

i think next was hamlet. i would have like hamlet had we not discussed it only through the lens of existentialism. its a good play, but i hated it because of the way he talked about it. even now, i only like it to make fun of the way he liked it. my friend and i send hamlet memes to each other all the time but only cause they remind us of our teacher.

one flew over the cuckoos nest. the second and final book that i actually liked my entirety of school. i dont know why i liked it, but it was just a good book. our teacher also had some kind of weird cowboy trope thing that he thought mcmurphy fell under which i thought was hilarious. the essay i wrote on that book was the only one he wrote “nice job” on and i still have it somewhere

my friend claims that we also read the stranger. i dont really remember what that book was about except some guy shot some people. there was definitely something in it that i didnt get. 

anyway in conclusion required reading ruins books. when i told my creative writing advisor that i out of all the books i read for school i only like the outsiders and one flew over the cuckoos nest she was like “yeah, english teachers really ruin books for students”

[whats-the-story-tc]

13th of March, 2020

"The One with V's Sister"

[REALLY LONG ONE. I got her back for a day, you best believe I'm savouring every single goddamn second.]

Shenanigans below the cut:

Another day, another ponytail. :-)

I dreamt with her again the night before. We were at this school event and I introduced her to my Dad. As they shook hands, Dad was wondering where he'd heard her name, then asked me if she was the one I always kept talking about. V just chuckled and said that I am her best student, but I never tell her stuff like that. Dream-me was probably blushing profusely.

Right. So. Morning. Bandana Friend and I were at the secretary's office to ask for something and lo and behold, there's V in her usual seat turned towards the door, hands glued to her phone, hair pulled back. I got really excited. I had two whole classes to drink in the sight, and I simply couldn't wait. "Whoop, there she is!" Bandana Friend told me. "Yeah, I saw her. And her hair is up!" We got excited, then remembered we said it loud enough that she could've heard. A laugh was had.

After that encounter, I was informed that we were to write a pretty important test in V's class that I didn't even know about. I tied my hair back as well, and spent the whole of my History class rather anxiously cramming anything and everything Grammar-related. Class ended, and my classmates were pleading with me to try and convince V to postpone the test a little, because she likes me. (It's not worth much, though. They say that about every teacher.) I told them that even though she does, she wouldn't listen to me, either. "There's no getting a plan out of that woman's head," I said.

Turns out, I was once again boo boo the fool. V decided to axe the test and have us write it a week later. I could've kissed her. I actually went: "MISS!" out loud from the surprise, hands thrown up in the air. And not only did she axe the test, she told us exactly what to expect and what we need to know, when we eventually DO write it. And, even though we'd previously discussed everything she mentioned, she took the time to go through everything once again, explain every important thing one by one. And she spoke English again! Okay, it was one word, when she brought up euphony, and said how everyone says German is a violent, angry language because of its phonetics, and brought up the classic "butterfly/Schmetterling" example I'm sure most of you are familiar with.

As she was talking about stylistic value, and how it can differ depending on the context, she brought up the very word she called me the last time we shared a walk, the one I translated as 'babydoll'. I immediately started smiling. Pleasant memories. And, as she went on, now talking paradoxes, she brought up the epigram I associate with her. Odi et amo. I looked away from her with a bittersweet smile. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. But the rest of the time, I couldn't keep my eyes away when I wasn't writing. There was always something to look at. Her hair, her eyes, her smile, her coffee mug necklace, her outfit and body (*cough* low-cut T-shirt *cough*) and basically everything. Cynical Twat (who no longer sits behind me) had his eyes on me for a while, while I was looking at her like she hung the stars. I think he's onto my ass. Fuck.

We also spoke about the other class in our year, as they came up. I asked V if they were ahead of us, as she said she keeps mixing up what she discussed with us and them, and she told me we were basically even at the moment. Then came the obvious question from Blond Boy in the Back: who does she like more? V was very reluctant to answer that, not wanting to generate tension between us, and only wound up saying that we were a lot more disciplined while the other bunch act more freely, and that she likes them and they'll mature someday. She also mentioned she has class with them in really unfortunate time slots and that not even the best class would want anything to do with her or her subject in 7th/8th period. I was about to protest, but I remembered it would be best not to. It's not like she'd respond, anyway.

Towards the end of class, we practised recognising different types of symbolism in poetry. There was this one about tree branches throwing black bouquets on the ground. I wondered what it meant — exactly until the very moment V asked us what it meant. That's when I realised it referred to shadows, and said it immediately. V didn't look at me, just pointed at me as she repeated my answer. She didn't have to reach far — she was standing right next to me. It was quite the common occurence in that very class, as she kind of alternated between standing at the board and by my side. Brb, gotta go get my tinfoil hat.

I also remember the two of us (ft. Comparison Boy I think, but mostly just V and me) having a short debate about whether or not this one famous poem was picture poetry or not. We were so persistent that V ended up telling us something along the lines of "Okay, it can be viewed as such, but technically, it isn't." Ha! Success :)

At the end of class, just to get a proper conversation out of her, I trotted up to her to ask if the definitions of metonymy and synecdoche I jotted down for myself after a bit of extra research were passable. She said that she'd word them a little differently, but technically, they were passable. Cool. End of story.

...at least I thought so. But more on that later.

She gave us back our earlier tests, one Grammar I fucked up here (I only got a B for it, my perfectionist ass can't take it), and the Literature one from here. A+. Huh. And, for once in her life, V actually signed a test! (I'm not exaggerating when I say I've never seen her signature in the past, nearly 2 years.) But what was best, is that when we looked at Debate Friend's test, couldn't finish her essay and barely wrote anything, under it stood, in red V-cursive: "I know you ran out of time." You guys, she gave her maximum points for it! We were full-on gushing when we saw it. Angels walk among us, I tell you.

Later, I had a splitting headache in (foreign) English, and told Curly Friend that I probably would suffer through my upcoming last class of the day if it wasn't going to be with V. I think I told her I always go to V's classes to catch a break. Not because they're easy, but because I can relax and listen to things I love hearing about, from a woman I love listening to. He told me that V was feeling pretty poorly, too (he had double class with her after she was with us), which surprised me. Aside from one story she told us about her dad (she mentioned both her parents today which she doesn't usually do), she was rather very smiley and energised from the very start of class with us. The only time I saw her be more serious was when I spoke to her after class. There was something about her eyes I noticed, but didn't think much into it. The usual sharp-cold fox eyes (I thought it through, they're more fox-like than cat-like), piercing right through the soul upon first glance. Now I realise how tired she must have been.

7th period Literature, aka where things genuinely started getting crazy. Whew. Here we go. Just before we actually got started, my homeroom teacher showed up and called V outside for a minute. You'll later see why. Then, class proceeded as usual. V set up everything, then put on a video about romanticism era here, at home. But, as per usual, V couldn't stop herself from making notes on the board and pausing the video to add her own commentary. Most of the time, she was crouching beside her laptop, with a complete disregard to me looking at her instead of the video whenever she did that. Once the video was over, she explained some things, her back against the board. She realised she got a whole person's name wrong, and, upon noticing she smudged the writing a little, she remarked "I hope I wiped the board with my hair again," and reached for her ponytail. I was laughing to myself. What do you mean again, love? My dearest, the train wreck.

Second video, about this play based on a queen's assassination in the medieval times. V said it was a tragedy, and asked us what a tragedy was. As I was trying to lace my thoughts together, I did notice that quick look she stole at me that basically said "Come on, Specs, you're the drama expert, say something or this is gonna get really awkward." Me and this other boy did manage to answer, though. After that, it was video time. V took a seat on an empty desk at the other side of the classroom, so she wouldn't block the view. Coincidentally, I had perfect view of both the screen and her. And that's where everything started getting mad.

She noticed. As I was watching her reactions, she turned to me and looked me in the eye before turning back to the video. And after that, though I didn't dare to look at her as much, most, if not all my gazes were returned. When the title character eventually stabbed the queen, she let out this extremely ridiculous scream straight out of a cartoon (well, they WERE cartoon silhouettes after all). I look at V, she looks back at me with this smile of "yeah, I know". Thing is, even in the next 'scene' with a trial, taking place presumably days later, the queen's body was still on the ground. I couldn't help myself, and asked "And they just left the queen there?" V burst into a grin as she looked at me to say "No!". This time last year, I used to get very Done™ looks for this kind of joke, and no verbal response at all. We're getting somewhere, ladies and gentlemen and enby people.

After the video ended, I actually raised my hand this once, to point something out. V was about to start speaking, but said "Yeah?" when she saw my hand up, dropping that train of thought immediately. I talked about how ironic it was that only the queen and her brother's silhouettes were black, and the rest of them were white. As I thought, it symbolised who were meant to be the good guys and the bad guys. I also brought up chess, which V agreed to, and I could see she was glad that there's someone who actively pays attention to detail.

I said it was mad before? Whoo, boy, then it's about to get insane.

Class ends, and V is packing. I was standing there anyway, so I thought I'd help a teensy bit, putting the projector cable away for her so she only had to deal with her laptop. I got a "Many thanks" for it when she noticed. And then. Oh, then. I'm standing beside her desk, not saying a goddamn word, and she, completely unprompted, starts talking to me about the play in depth. She didn't even call my name to get my attention, because she knew I'd be listening. (Been there, done that.) She told me that she finds the plot interesting, and as an adult, she can appreciate it, but the whole thing is written in such a dry and complicated way (she frowned saying this), that she can't help but have mixed opinions about it.

These are all things she mentioned in class before and needn't have repeated, but I was kinda glad she did. I let her talk, adding my own opinion whenever I felt like it, drinking in the fact that she wanted to talk to me specifically about it. I told her that as an actress, I find the characters interesting and I'd love to do this play because the plot really does sound interesting. The look she gave me... she looked me in the eyes, not a word said. It wasn't the fox eyes, it felt more like she was focused on me. There was a depth to it, a silent intensity. I have no idea what she could've been thinking, but I think she might have tried to imagine it. "We'll continue this on Tuesday." she told me, as the bell was about to ring. Lmao, as if.

But it didn't end there, oh, no. Sorry, you have to read a little longer. When she left the classroom, I realised: "Hold on there, V, I'm not done with you yet" and immediately went after her. She walked over to Art Friend, who was writing a test outside, at a nearby table, to check up on how she's doing. Me being me, as they finished talking, and more of my friends started to gather around, I decided to check up on how V's doing. And — you guys aren't going to believe this —, for once, she didn't ignore me asking her how she was! She said that even though she wasn't a hundred percent well, she was doing fine. She didn't plan on not being at school on Tuesday, but life got in the way. (She even explained how, we goin' personal in here.) She didn't say anything when I told her to take care of herself, but I didn't really expect her to.

(From here, our topics might not be in chronological order, because I literally don't remember how it happened.)

There we were, on opposite sides of that table, facing each other directly. "Is the weather changing again, Miss? Is that why my head is splitting apart?" I asked her, thinking adults always know about the weather anyway. "Maybe. Or you're just sick and we're all going to die." she told me as she was putting stuff into her laptop bag. "Oh, great. Bright future you're predicting for me, Miss, thank you." I responded, somewhere along the lines of this. I don't remember the exact thing. "We're all going to die one day, aren't we?" "Well, yeah..." "Just think about all the times we could've died as children..." Bright and optimistic topic in the middle of a goddamn pandemic, courtesy of our very own Miss V. But me and Debate Friend chimed right in with our stories anyway. If there are two people who are ride-or-die with V's weird shit, it's us.

I remembered what happened the previous day, Comparison Boy calling me by her name. "[Art Friend], should I tell her about [Comparison Boy and co.]?" I asked my friend out loud, because I know V absolutely hates not knowing stuff. "Oh, Lord, what happened?" V asked immediately, both elbows on the table, watching curiously. See? This is why I adore teasing her. It's the reaction. "Long story short, they don't call me by my name anymore." I said, not daring to look up at her, no matter how coy I was being. Inside, I was still afraid of what she'd say to being compared to me. "Whose, then?" No going back. "Well, yours, Miss." I admitted. Immediately, I heard a "No." of disbelief, and there we were, both of us grinning at the accusations and me talking about how different we are on the inside. "[Curly Friend] found me with his theory, too." V told me, and now I was the one not believing her. I couldn't believe he told her! "What theory?" Art Friend asked. V seemed to have a hard time putting it into words so I helped out. "That she is me 10 years into the future." Yup. That's an actual theory he has. V looked a little... not withdrawn, even though she was leaning away from the table, but... awkward? But to be honest, we both were. "[Curly Friend] is nice, I like him, but if only he had this much creativity for studying..." V said, to close the topic off. Bwahaha.

At some point, my homeroom teacher came over to us when she saw us chatting, giving V's shoulder a little stroke as she walked past behind her to get next to her. I saw V crack a smile, this little, but very pleased one. Theirs is an unlikely friendship, but I stan it so much. She asked V about how Blond Boy in the Back was doing, as he was quite pale, and V said she noticed (she even asked him if he was alright) but nothing really extreme happened. After all the times he'd disrespected her, it's amazing how much V still cares about him. Then, my homeroom teacher mentioned a potential new teacher who might be coming soon (not anymore I guess lmao) and I burst into a fed-up "Again?". We all know what happened last time, after all. V grinned and muttered a half-impressed, half-unbelieving "She says 'Again?'..." to herself.

Art Friend brought up a British actor, but didn't know his name. (I couldn't guess she was talking about James McAvoy until she said His Dark Materials.) She said she was handsome, and V immediately said "I think I know who you're thinking about, and he's not that handsome." I was fully hollering. It was a shorter-lived convo bit, but V mentioned that she cries at every little thing. Now, that's an exaggeration right there, Miss. Also, I'm not entirely sure it was at this point, but sometime during the conversation, I nearly reached out and took her hand as a comforting gesture after something that was said, but stopped myself as soon as my hand moved. I couldn't do that. I had to know my place.

You know what I'm going to miss most about seeing V face-to-face? Her incredibly telling eyes, that speak for her every given minute. This whole conversation through, she was looking at us with this soft, crinkled-up-to-the-point-they're-half-closed eyes, the look a mixture of bliss and calmness... maybe even pride at a push. She looked like there genuinely wasn't anything she'd rather do in that very moment, but talk to us. She is an angel, let me tell you. I don't deserve her.

When she eventually got going, Debate Friend ran ahead (I gave her a Done™ look for a joke and she just bolted off), while V and I walked together. "Are [Curly Friend] and [Debate Friend] related by any chance?" she asked me. "Same hair, same smile, similar personality..." "Well, if we can be compared, so can they." I smiled back. Then something happened I didn't and couldn't account for. Debate Friend shot back, though I don't exactly remember how she worded it, that V and I could be related as well. And I mentally took a deep breath, fully aware of the risk I was taking, and exclaimed, grinning:

"I have an older sister! I've always wanted a sister!"

I can't possibly begin to comprehend that smile. She didn't say anything, but she closed her eyes and her lips pulled up into this really bright smile, something like this emoji: 😊, discount the blush. It went through my mind later that she did it because she was annoyed with me or thought me stupid and she was trying to mask it, then I remembered... it's V. She wouldn't do that, couldn't pretend if she tried. So that leaves us with one explanation: she was glad I said that. She actually liked me saying that and didn't mind being called my sister. I still don't believe it. It was the same smile as the one she said that "Oh, come on!" with on Wednesday, so she might even have been... flattered? Impossible.

Once she called out Debate Friend for addressing a teacher by her last name only, no honorific, she walked away and out of sight, smiling and waving goodbye to us. And that was the last time I saw her in the flesh — possibly for a very long time.

Later that day, I mentioned her and how much she helped me to my psychologist, who used to work in my school a while back. Last time I was there and I spoke about her, she didn't remember V, but now she was fully aware who I was talking about, if a bit surprised. "I never would've thought she is so... sentimental," she said. Me neither, doc. Honestly, me neither. But here we are. She was glad I found someone who helps me this much and I wholeheartedly agreed. How could I not?

It's been a little over a week since all this happened. Online school is kicking my ass, but I'll be fine. I have her. Still... I miss school a lot. I miss hugging my friends and doodling in classes and the thrill of scanning the corridors for a glimpse of a certain Miss V walking past. Here's to hoping it gets better soon. Until then, all of you take care, stay safe and stay home.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[peterstanslizzie]

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.18 (Rated Aargh)

I love this photo. They all look like they are about to lose their marbles. 

- Perhaps this is one of my favourite opening scenes of any episode so far. Lizzie is laying down on the floor and is awaiting for Ethan to “blow in her mouth” while romantic music is playing in the background. That’s was she said...oh gosh, what is wrong with me?

Animated Lizzie, as a supermodel. She looks like she’s by the ocean but I thought frogs can’t live in the ocean because of the salt water. I’m such a nerd lol

- Anyways, they are actually at health class, focusing on CPR training led by Coach Kelly and Lizzie is supposed to be the dummy. Ethan, as usual is lost and doesn’t know what to do. Coach Kelly loses her patience and asks Ethan to go back to his seat and Lizzie misses her opportunity to kiss Ethan. They really should use dummies instead of actual people to practice the CPR steps. 

- She calls for Larry Tudgeman to come up and perform CPR on Lizzie. Lizzie immediately gets up and tries to get out of it but Coach Kelly is forcing her stay. Umm, no teacher should force their student to have their mouths be touched by another student’s unless of course, it’s for an emergency. Well, Larry puts his mouth on Lizzie’s and the results are just devastating lol. 

Did Larry and his friend just used the ‘Vulcan salutation’ gesture from Star Trek?

Teens Seeing An R-Rated Movie? Gasppp

- We cut to Lizzie rinsing her mouth at the water fountain, trying to remove any trace of Larry’s saliva from her mouth. She also gets made fun of by another kid at school for doing mouth to mouth CPR with Larry. Is Larry really that disgusting? 

- Did Lizzie outright call Ethan dumb? Well, that’s a first! Gordo tells Lizzie and Miranda that he really wants to watch ‘Vesuvius: The Eruption’, an R-rated film starring Ben Affleck. Apparently, the word on the street is that most of the kids at school have already seen the movie, which is about an active volcano that erupts and destroys an ancient city. I actually remember learning what Mount Vesuvius is from English Literature class at school. 

- The trio unanimously decide to watch Vesuvius together on Saturday but I can tell from their voices they’re feeling quite hesitant. Plus, they need someone’s parent to drive them to the movie cinema. But Gordo is adamant that they have to watch it. So, they come up with a plan or in Lizzie’s case, a script to convince their parents to let them watch the film. 

I was pretty sold by their speech but their parents still said “NO!”

Matt’s School Carnival

- Matt’s storyline in this episode begins with him telling his parents how excited he is that they will be building a booth at his upcoming school carnival. Both Sam and Jo are taken aback because they only volunteered to blow balloons. But with Matt, they have to expect the unexpected. 

- They are hesitant at first but when Matt mentions about this kid named Jeff Thompson, she immediately thinks about his mom who always comes in 1st place at the bake sale. Jo seems to not like losing to her and her competitive spirit pushes her to want to participate in the carnival and have a better booth than Jeff’s mom. 

- Matt suggest his own idea of what he wants to do at their booth but it’s definitely not feasible and not to mention, dangerous. Jo, always coming up with the good ideas, suggests they build a velcro wall. 

Aww, moments like this really warms my heart

Lizzie’s Attempt At Lying To Her Parents: Part 2

- At school, Lizzie, Gordo and Miranda are feeling bummed about not being able to watch Vesuvius. And it doesn’t help that other people are still talking about the movie. 

Lizzie’s ‘Larry reflex’ is actively working

- Gordo comes up with a plan for them to lie to their parents and tell them they want to play mini golf instead. Lizzie questions the plan because we all know how bad of a liar she is; Case in point, look up episode 1.12, ‘Between A Rock and A Bra Place’. But Gordo doesn’t think it’s lying. As he puts it, it’s a “last minute change in plans in advance”. Sure Gordo, that sounds legit. 

- Back at home, Lizzie goes up to her mom to ask for her permission to go to the miniature golf course with Gordo and Miranda; Jo immediately says “yes” without questioning Lizzie. Well, I thought Lizzie sounded pretty believable when she asked her. 

Getting The Tickets 

- Our favourite trio arrive at the movie theatre but they still have one more hurdle to face and that is to buy the movie tickets without being turned down for being underage.  

Let’s just say from this guy’s expression, they did an awful job. 

- The more you explain yourself, the more likely other people can pick up on your lies. Actually, Lizzie was almost able to get the tickets until she got turned off by the price of the tickets and asks whether there is an Under-14 discount. She just had to ask that question...

- Gordo suggests they sneak in through the back but unfortunately for them, the fire-exit door is locked. His other plan is for them to walk backwards and pretend like they just came out of the movie theatre whilst the previous movie-goers are exiting. His plan worked and they are able to sneak in without getting caught. 

- Lizzie is ordering a bunch of food from the concession stand to make herself feel less guilty since she did not pay for her ticket. From what Miranda just explained, cinemas make most of their money from the sale of food and drinks. Is that really true? 

- We suddenly hear a strange noise in the background, coming from a man who is chocking on something and needs help immediately. Gordo and Miranda frantically ask Lizzie to help that man since she knows how to do the Heimlich maneuver and she quickly goes to him to perform the technique, which is successful in getting a huge sour ball out from his windpipe.

Miranda is really unlucky this time. But Gordo is even more unlucky. Miranda tends to not do or say anything when it comes to the sticky situations of others. Like the time she didn’t bother to open the locker for that kid who was stuck inside of it in episode 1.15. 

- Looks like the stuff she learned from CPR training in health class proved to be useful for Lizzie; She saved a man from choking to death. Because of that, she and her friends are even being interviewed by the local news on TV! That’s so cool. But what they failed to realise before the interview is the fact that they will be seen on TV during the 6 o’clock news at the lobby of the rated-R movie. Basically, their parents might watch the news channel and see that their kids have lied to them and snuck in to watch Vesuvius. 

What is Gordo doing back there? hahahaha

Lizzie The Lying Hero

- We see Jo talking on the phone to someone from the movie theatre where Lizzie and her friends were in. She is told that Lizzie just saved a man’s life and as a reward, the cinema is rewarding them with free movie passes and a gift certificate. Oh, so Lizzie even gave her house number to the interviewer without remembering she lied to her parents?

- Jo eventually realises that Lizzie lied to her after Sam tells her that the theatre Lizzie was in is where Vesuvius is showing. Lizzie is definitely in trouble but hopefully that gets cancelled out for saving someone’s life. 

- Lizzie, Gordo and Miranda arrive at Lizzie’s house and they discuss about making sure her parents don’t watch the news at 6 o’clock. What about Gordo and Miranda’s parents? Shouldn’t they be concerned about them too? 

- Jo and Sam greet them and asks them questions about their non-existent mini golf game. As expected, they give conflicting answers, which makes them look even more guilty. However, just when Lizzie’s parents are about to turn on the TV to check the weather, Lizzie makes the decision to distract them by purposely dropping her dad’s gnome lamp onto the ground till it’s all shattered into pieces. 

- Jo’s not budging though, despite her husband insisting that they head back to the kitchen to glue the lamp back together. She really wants to watch the news.

Jo isn’t playing any games this time and I'm here for it.

- This time, Jo and Sam are playing mind tricks on the kids because now she’s suggesting they all go out to watch Vesuvius together. At this point, they realise that Jo and Sam already know about the whole sneaking into an R-rated movie plot. Yup, they are so getting it.

Closing Off

- Lizzie, Gordo and Miranda are on the photo talking about their respective punishments and how they’ve disappointed their parents. Miranda and Lizzie are grounded for a week while Gordo is grounded for 2 weeks and he has to write a 10-page paper on responsibility. Yikes! That’s pretty harsh. No wonder Gordo is a pretty wise guy for his age. 

- Lizzie also has to glue Sam’s gnome lamp by herself and she needs to help out with Matt’s school carnival by peeling kids off the velcro wall. Speaking of that, Jo calls for Lizzie to come down and practise.

- First up, we have Matt:

That looks really fun

- Next up, it’s Lizzie:

Poor Sam; He was behind the wall when Lizzie jump onto it and caused it to fall over. Ouch! He is always getting hurt out in these streets lol

Overall Thoughts

- This episode was a solid B for me. The whole lying to your parents story-line has been done quite a number of times already. I did like the opening scene and I enjoyed the scene where Lizzie was doing the Heimlich maneuver on a man chocking on his food. 

- But the stars of this episode to me were Sam and Jo Mcguire. It was a joy to watch them keep their cool and make Lizzie and her friends sweat from trying to keep their secret of sneaking into an R-rated movie from them. Lizzie really shouldn’t try lying to them anymore because they have their ways in finding out the truth. 

- In terms of what I am able to take away from this episode, there’s nothing much besides what I’ve already learned in previous episodes. Another note I have is It’s quite interesting but weird how little we saw of Ethan in this episode. I mean, guest stars usually appear for a little while in episodes but he didn’t really leave much of an impact here unlike Larry. Well, at least to me. 

[romantic-witch]

Next to Me // David [pt.1]

imagine: letting david go

part 2 is now available on my page!

inspired: next to me (imagine dragons)

where: as soon as you start to realize your feelings for david, you also realize david and liza still have feelings for each other. (well at least that’s what you thought)

warning: english is not my first language. please warn me if i have any grammar mistakes.

I couldn’t focus on any of my work. Zane’s vlog’s due date was two days from now but David said we were all invited to this CRAZY party so I was trying my best to finish it as soon as possible. But I know that was going to be impossible since I chose the wrong house to edit it. I was going to edit it in Alex and Dom’s place but then Alex said Dom had a girl over, and I thought I couldn’t bare listen the poor girl’s moan. But David doing crazy stunts was some other level shit. I didn’t want to go to my dorm as well since it’s literally an hour away from here. I was editing it in kitchen while all of the “fun” stuff was happening in the living room. It was Saturday night, tons of good films opened yesterday, all my friends are having a bonfire near the beach... I have zero clue on why am I here. I could just fucking leave and finish it tomorrow. I didn’t even want to go to the party, which was probably on USC and I am still bitter that they didn’t accept me. I looked up in the blank ceiling and thought “God, I don’t even know if you are up there, but can you just give me a clue on why I am here. I thought you were suppose to guide me through my problems.” 

I sighed and grabbed my tiger milk boba tea. I took a big sip and edited the video to zoom in on Heath’s face. I put the boba to the right hand sight of my laptop and then David came in.

“Hi Pearl, I didn’t know you were here.” 

He grabbed a Red Bull out of the fridge while I almost choked from the boba.

“Are you okay?”

I swallowed the boba and barely said “Yes.”

He came right next to me and asked: “Zane’s new video?”

His face was literally 3 or 4 inches away from my face, scrolling through the vlog with his left hand, while his right hand was holding the energy drink, his thumb was “wandering” around my back. He took a quick glance at me and then take a sip from the drink while getting back to his “normal” position. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” he asked.

“I don’t know David, I have shit ton of work to do and really can’t handle frat boys yelling “chunk” every five seconds.” 

“We are not going to a frat party, it’s at Liza’s place.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, she’s heading New York to shoot some stuff for MTV and said she didn’t buy any tickets back to LA, so she’s throwing a one last party.”

“David, I really need to-”

“Come on it’s Liza’s last day and she never throws parties and her house is massive. Pleaseee.”

He started doing his puppy face, which I’ll admit, was too adorable. 

“Okay, you dork, I’ll come.”

-

I got some decent clothes from my small suitcase in my car and realized these were the only clothes I bring with me to LA so I had to drive back to Long Beach if I need clothes for tomorrow. Great. I head to the only bathroom that didn’t smell like puke, put on a black blouse, wore a mini plaid black and white skirt to match my black converse. I was washing my hands when David opened the door. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought no one came to this one.”

“Why do you think I came here?”

He bursted a classical David Dobrik laugh and handed me the towel. The second I grabbed the door handle he added:

“You look really nice by the way.” 

I thanked him and got out of the bathroom with the other clothes I had, as quick as I can. I thought my heart was going to came out of my chest. The fact that David complementing me, this one wasn’t the first, only made it worse. 

Only Alex, Matt and Heath were ready and chilling in the living room. Matt and I started to talk about Avengers: Endgame and after maybe 5 minutes David came to the living room. He wore a black and white striped shirt and black jeans. At least he wore something other than a black t-shirt. He looked casual and confident at the same time, which is probably one of his traits that made him have big dick energy.

"We are not gonna fit anyways, should we just go?" asked David.

All of the guys accepted it and right before David started the Tesla, Natalie came out of the door and hop on. David put the Tesla in the autopilot mode and start to vlog the guys while they were discussing whether we should turn around to wait the others or not. After two minutes of discussion we decide not to and head to Liza's place.

This was going to be my first time going to her house and I was nervous. Liza knows who I am but for some reason I get so anxious while talking to her.

Maybe it's because you like her ex you dumbass.

"Pearl!" I hear my name coming from Matt.

"I asked about that crazy theory of yours?"

"Oh, I think Scott is not the real one. He could not be able to get out of that microcell universe thing."

Matt than, desperately, added:

"Maybe it's Loki."

I smiled and suddenly catch eyes with David. He was looking at me with that half smile of his. He then immediately start to go through the footage in his camera. I turn back to Matt and start to analyze the trailer the third time today.

-

Liza’s house was huge. The second we get into “mansion” I spot three youtubers I used to adore as a middle schooler. 

I said hi to Liza and agreed with her when she said:

“The Big Apple has been better than the Angels all this time.”

-

The party goes on with me talking to a bunch of people, including my childhood fave Tyler Oakley, but not even having a word with David. He mostly hang out with Liza, and I get it it’s her last day, but man just say hello to other guests as well. I was talking to James and when I said I came with David, his face went sister shook and said:

“David’s here?!”

He was all over Liza. She went to a other room once and David just stood there ‘till she came back. Literally just stood there and drink his beer. They were happy together, and I get it. It is hard to let go of those feelings. But man it’s almost been a year and a half since they broke up. I thought it’s been long gone by now and had a chance.

I feel even more selfish thinking these. Me ever having a shot with David? His heart belongs to Liza, literally everyone knows it. He might not admit it, but he deep down knows it as well.

Me, Natalie and James were sitting on the couch. It was almost 1 am and I needed some sleep. 

“Natalie, do you know when are we going?”

“Uhm, you just missed Scott and Kristen. They headed back to the house. Our last option is David I guess.”

James immediately hopped in and said:

“Hello, I can take you back as well kitty girls.”

While Natalie tried to convince James not to, I got my phone and my wallet and said:

“I’m heading out for a walk.”

Well my intention was to walk to the nearest bus stop. For a student who is coming to LA every weekend had to know some of the busses here and there. And I knew 302 was passing two street away from the house so I was hoping to catch one of those. 

It was almost 1 am and I was walking on my own in the hills. What was I thinking? With both making the decision to walk to the stop and come to Liza’s at the first place. I am probably going to get kidnapped.  The map on my phone said I was almost there, just got to make a two minute walk, that’s all.

“Where are you going?” someone shouted from a far.

I was getting scared so I didn’t even look behind.

“Pearl!” 

I stopped. I turn around to see David maybe 300 meters behind me.

I said: “I’m going back to Long Beach.”

He was getting closer to me.

“I mean- I am going to the house first, because my car is there, then I’m heading to Long Beach.”

He was coming closer and closer.

“I should’ve never come David. I hate to introduce myself as the editing girl, like why would you invite me anyw-”

David pressed his lips against mine. For just a split second I let myself enjoy the moment, his fluffy lips and his smell but like I said just a second. I stopped kissing him and looked him in the eyes.

“David you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not. Test me.”

“Okay. How many fingers do you see?” 

I put my middle finger up.

“Hahaha, very funny Pearl Manglona.”

I start to walk to the bus stop, again.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m serious. I’m not drunk.”

“David, I know you for almost four months now, I know you are not someone who hooks up with every girl you see, so I’m assuming you are drunk or maybe wasted. Like stage five of being drunk.” 

“Is it too cliché to say you are not like every other girl?”

I just roll my eyes and continue to walk. I turned right and saw the bus I suppose to be right now, turning left and going to my destination. I sighed and sit on the edge of the sidewalk. David sat right next to me just a couple seconds later. I pulled my legs closer to my tummy while David sat cross-legged. 

“Who are you David?

“Who am I?” 

He was confused.

“Yeah, that’s what I asked.”

“I mean, I’m David Dobrik?”

“Who is in love with Liza Koshy.”

David opened his mouth pretty quickly but I also added:

“David, look me dead ass in the eye and tell me you are not in love with Liza, then I’ll consider believing you.”

He could’t. 

“Those feelings don’t go away that easily, I understand. Just please think your actions a hundred times before doing it.”

Another 302 numbered bus was coming towards us. I get up, my eyes were starting to tear up. 

“Because others might have going through the same shit as well.” 

I hop on to the bus. The bus slowly passed David and the bus stop. I sat in the back of the bus and cried silently. I texted Zane that I’ll be finishing the video from Long Beach and put my phone to sleep mode. What a waste of a lovely night.

-

Follow me to access part 2 as soon as possible. 

lots and lots of love <3

zayn :)