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herrlindemann · 2 years

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ROCK HARD - October 2009

Rammstein are angry again. As on the legendary debut album "Herzeleid", harsh guitars rumble on the new album "Liebe ist für alle da" and dark stories are told. Guitarist Paul Landers and keyboardist Christian 'Flake' Lorenz report on dark basements, sunny holidays, tormented media and voluntary and involuntary comedy.

Paul, Flake, one of your trademarks is lyrically slipping into the roles of people who are exceptional in a negative sense: psychopaths, criminals, the mentally ill. Were there roles that you as storytellers actually hated, or do you always keep enough distance from your “heroes”?

Paul: Except for the character of a friendly, gay neo-Nazi from Berlin, we actually like to fill all the roles. Hahaha, now that was nonsense! Our singer Till always manages - I don't even know how he does it - in a subtle and sensitive way to touch supposedly hot topics and to present unpleasant topics or topics that you don't like to talk about in such a way that you don't feel ashamed. The best example of this is 'Wiener Blut'. I can't think of any other combo that could take a lyrical approach to this incest story. So, I'm a Till fan. To get back to your questions: In principle, Till has to carry everything. He has to stand up and play the appropriate role. We other band members almost always stand united behind him. Although you have to consider that we are six musicians. And getting six people under one roof is always difficult. One is always somewhere else, but in the end we can live well with all the roles played and sung.

Flake: I can agree to all previous roles. With us everyone has a say and can also say: I can't represent this song like that. When I talk about Till and his lyrics, I also refer to myself. In general, I find it more interesting and important to empathize with a person than to judge them.

Were there already lyrics that went too far for you?

Flake: No, because everyone knows that it's not me standing in the schoolyard. In this respect, I participate in everything related to texts and roles.

'Wiener Blut' goes a step further than your cannibal song 'Mein Teil', because the victim lives in the new piece. So it may well be that the victim gets to hear your song. Against this background, were there any inhibitions or even pangs of conscience within the band about recording the piece at all?

Paul: We're supposed to have remorse?

No, the question is whether remorse has arisen at all.

Paul: That's an example that shows me that, thank God, we see the world differently than journalists. In no way are we making fun of the victim: that would be too shallow. Then we shouldn't have done our first song, 'Rammstein', because many of the victims are still alive. There have also never been any complaints about our song content, because we only deal with these topics - we don't judge and judge. We're like newscasters, and when a newscaster says, 'Michael Jackson has died', that's just the way it is. And when you say there's a man who kept his daughter in the basement for 20 years, you're not doing it to hurt the victim. If you approach it like that, you can no longer make a newspaper. In any case, I believe that only we can, that we are allowed to take on such issues. But not with a crowbar, but with a sledgehammer (laughs).

Flake: We don't judge, but rather try to put ourselves in the shoes of the story and the corresponding role. I don't think a victim feels attacked by us. I can't speak for the victim, but I can try to empathize with the victim. And if someone would then make such a song about me, I would probably like it. Our song 'Rammstein' was about the plane crash. Years later we visited the people in the hospital. Some are still hospitalized because their burns are so extensive that they can only heal bit by bit. The injured were very happy about our visit.

Do you consider shocked and overwhelmed media as proof that you did something right?

Paul: No, but it's proof that something is still the way it has always been. And that in turn is a good feeling. We don't make music for journalists. Of course we're happy if you like it, but first and foremost we make music for ourselves. We make the music we would like to hear on the radio ourselves and we make the videos we would like to see ourselves. Secondly, especially with this album, we follow the requests of our fans, who mostly want us to get a little heavier again. And as far as provocation is concerned: Good art has to provoke. Some people must think what we're doing is stupid. Especially the intolerant or stuck should find us stupid. We like to set traps, and the corresponding clientele reliably falls into these traps. We are happy about that.

Please name a trap!

Paul: Well, when we sing 'Waidmanns Heil' it's already clear that there will be people who interpret something very specific into it.

Is the song about animal or human hunting?

Flake: Of course, it's about both. Who makes a song just about animal hunting? There is also the hunt for money, for happiness...

Paul: I personally see a parallel between sex and hunting. Whether human or animal — that is open.

Before “Liebe ist für alle da” came about, you took a break of almost a year and a half. How would you describe that? Can you just lock RAMMSTEIN in a closet and take it out again after the break?

Paul: Exactly. What is very important: If you do something with passion, you have to step aside at some point, take a breath and take a distanced look at what you are actually doing. Don't run and run and never look where you are. Anyone who has the chance to pause — regardless of whether they are a greengrocer or a gas station tenant — should do so. Okay, not everyone has the financial cushion to do that, and many people fear losing their jobs. But in our case there were chances of a time-out and we jumped at that chance.

At first I didn't want to succeed with the break, I wanted to make film music. Luckily, I managed not to do that, and after two or three months of feeling heartbroken and frustrated at not doing anything, I settled down. And that was paradise. Our bassist Olli got me into windsurfing, and I'm now doing it with great passion. You can put me on some deserted beach with something to eat and I'll be content. I won't bother anyone and do my thing. One more thing: my family forced me to travel around. I didn't want to do that at all, because as a musician I travel more than enough. But I learned that traveling with the family is fundamentally different than going on business trips with the band.

Flake: The real time we didn't see each other was very short.

Paul, what did you see when you looked at your previous work from a distance?

Paul: I listened to all of our CDs and thought: my dear friend, that's good! After the break, we continued voluntarily. We had fulfilled our record deal, and the feeling that you HAVE to do something is all fun. Being allowed to do something feels very different.

Flake: In this respect, Paul has a quirk. I haven't even listened to a CD. I've heard our songs countless times, while writing, while recording, at our concerts. I have our CDs in my head and that's enough for me.

Has the power you drew during your break been wasted in a number of studios and recording locations? It's said that this album would have been special to you too.

Flake: I didn't feel that way. The stress was only based on the weakness that we couldn't stand together and clearly agree on certain songs. The record could have been finished a year earlier and would have been good. Different, but good. We kept discarding things and bringing in new versions until the final touches. We had too many different versions of some titles. The same lyrics, the same basic melody, but a different rhythm. Then a verse fit, not the chorus and so on. That cost us time, but I don't think it's a bad thing.

Paul: That was the hardest album I've ever been involved with. If good friends haven't seen each other for five years, then when they meet again, the time that has passed just melts away. It was the same for us: we saw each other again and immediately everything was the same as always. None of us had changed, except that everyone seemed a little more relaxed and broadened their horizons. But apart from that, everyone tied seamlessly to the time before the break. And that's why we ended up surviving this album production unscathed. RAMMSTEIN are like an old Mercedes. Solid work, solid quality, drives well. But you also have to check the oil and check the sealing ring. And don't drive too fast and don't let the engine overheat. That's why we're still here. Many of our comrades-in-arms that we know, especially from America, are either decimated or completely broken up. Or they are in a state where you no longer want to look at them. I don't want to name names now...

When a layman hears that you recorded a record in different studios around the world that you found difficult, he will surely think: It may be the luxury that clouds your view of the essentials. A layman's question: Could RAMMSTEIN make a good CD for 20,000 euros these days?

Paul: You can make a good album for $5,000, definitely. But we belong to this dinosaur generation. When we started there was still a lot of money, there were big studios — and there were no computers to replace a studio. That means we're used to it. And so far, a good album has always come out of it. There were no reasonable reasons to change our previous work process. Making a record means at RAMMSTEIN: wasting money, expensive studios, warm countries. That's the way it is. If we were forced to save, we would do the same. Who knows, maybe we'll have to make a $5,000 record someday. We don't throw money out the window, we work hard on our albums.

Flake: In my opinion you can make a great record for 20,000 euros. And actually we always try to streamline the whole process. But somehow we get bogged down and fall back into the old pattern. Studio time is always the same. You book for six weeks and record the album. The in between, the time in the rehearsal room, is the luxury. Luxury not in terms of money but in terms of time. We make use of this luxury and spend a lot of time in the rehearsal room.

Paul, you said in an interview that because of the pain factor, your new album should cost 60 euros in stores. Where did stress end and pain begin?

Paul: it was really torture. We had too many songs. To put it graphically: You walk through the desert and find gold bars. You take off your shirt and pack 30 bars with it. You start running, your shirt rips, you lose more and more bars. At some point you are completely overwhelmed, throw everything away and move on. For my part I was overwhelmed. It's like a single mom with nine kids. It is too much. When we got to the back, we didn't even know what was going on up front.

Looking back, which of your previous pieces are really valuable to you?

Paul: I think differently. There's always one or two songs on each album that I don't like. With the other tracks, I'm always like, man, how did we do that? But to highlight a few songs: 'Nebel' is an incredibly good song. Or ‘Spieluhr’.

Flake: I think “Herzeleid” as a whole is very good. But there are a few songs that we didn't need. For example, ‘Küss mich (Fellfrosch)’ is nonsense.

On the one hand you have sold millions of CDs, on the other hand a reasonably sensitive person will not listen to songs like the aforementioned 'Küss mich (Fellfrosch)', 'Rein raus' or 'Bück dich' with the car window down. Are RAMMSTEIN a band where you should just turn off the shame? Do you provoke shame?

Paul: I don't see it from that perspective. As I said, luckily I didn't study journalism.

…Neither do I.

Paul: Maybe I should explain it like this: One painter's name is Dürer, and he paints a rabbit and tufts of grass. That's nice, and there are a lot of friends of these pictures. And there's another painter by the name of Hieronymus Bosch who paints bizarre situations. I don't think Bosch did it to provoke people. I rather think that he also liked what he was painting. And so it is with us too. Dieter Bohlen didn't write 'Cheri Cheri Lady' because he's stupid, but because he likes it. He doesn't want to annoy people with it. And we don't mainly want to annoy people either. Getting angry is just a pleasant side effect for us. We do what we can there. We build tanks as collapsible boats.

Flake: I don't want too many people to like songs like that. People are welcome to bring a little bad taste. We don't want to educate anyone, we just want to be a little incorrect. If the pieces mentioned are definitely too much for you, you won't understand the rest either.

“Rosenrot” was your most colorful album to date in terms of lyrical expressiveness. “Liebe ist für alle da” continues on this path. Would a piece like 'Frühling in Paris' have been possible in the past?

Flake: I think so. Take 'Seemann' from the debut and the text "Jetzt stehst du da an der Laterne". We've always packed chewy things in such a way that it's awesome. Everything that is beautiful is always allowed.

Let's talk about some cornerstones of the band's biography, which are only important at second glance. We start with the early nineties and the rumor that started back then that musicians from Feeling B and The Inchtabokatables were starting a new band. What memories do you associate with it?

Paul: Both were well-known bands at the time and we put the names on our concert posters so that someone would come to our gigs at all. We've never shied away from thinking businesslike.

Flake: We wanted to play live with RAMMSTEIN as soon as possible because we thought each other was awesome. Shortly after reunification it was like this: When an East band played in the East, the hall usually stayed empty. The bands from the East were gone, and the underground had completely lost its importance after reunification, because people were only interested in the so-called real bands. A lot of west bands took advantage of that — some disgusting metal and punk combos — and played in the east. Then they said: Oh, there's a band from the west playing, it must be good! But a lot of those concerts were just plain disappointing. Then came Normahl, those Westpunks, and delivered weak things. Well, and with Feeling B we drew a whopping 2,000 people at the end. We wanted to bring some of the people over to RAMMSTEIN.

Another notable cornerstone was your video clip for the Depeche Mode cover 'Stripped', in which you used sequences from the Riefenstahl film "Fest der Völker/Fest der Schönheit". There was a strong headwind.

Paul: That was very instructive. We were pretty speechless and helpless because of the resonance.

Flake: If you look at the story as it actually happened, it's double funny. We had actually planned to shoot a clip of Till diving high in an East Berlin outdoor pool that is now closed. So we explained the idea to our director and he said he'll give us a cinematic script the next day. He passed this task on to an intern. The next day the intern put the video into the recorder and on the video were tower diving scenes from the Riefenstahl film. We laughed our heads off and said: “Come on, we'll send that to the record company! Then we don't have to shoot a video!” Nobody seriously believed that the record company would also find it funny and use the clip in this form. The clip wasn't even edited, it was immediately sent to TV. In this respect, we didn't even know how to answer the critical journalists' questions. But even if we had deliberately made the clip that way, I would have thought the accusations unfounded. Looking back, I wouldn't do something like that again because there was a lot of trouble. At the time, that was perfectly fine. The "Bild" newspaper said: Hitler edited the last RAMMSTEIN video. The trouble was almost worth it for this journalistic masterpiece (laughs).

Another interesting footnote is heavyweight boxer Vitali Klitschko, who inadvertently brought you to 'Sonne', one of your strongest songs ever.

Paul: If you see the song that way, that's the way it is.

Flake: We heard the rumor that Klitschko was urgently looking for a march-in song. We were immediately enthusiastic and practiced the rhythm of going to the ring in the rehearsal room. The man has to stride along in his bathrobe. The song has to be precisely coordinated with Klitschko's steps, the man mustn't start dribbling. And then the deposit: One - here comes the sun... And the people who can sing along when the opponent is on the ground. To be on the safe side, we added a second level of content so that the number also works without boxes. Well: The management rejected the love. Some time ago we met Klitscko and asked him about the song. He had never found out about it. Management made the decision on its own. I can understand that because I've met people who asked me why I wasn't in their film. I didn't know anything about it because our management decided it on their own.

Your management will certainly object to this quote.

Flake: Oh nonsense, they know it was like that (laughs).

There has always been a lot of debate about your musical influences. Which bands have actually influenced you?

Paul: In the beginning it was Pantera, Metallica, Ministry, oomph! and The Krupps. Nowadays I like to listen to Muse, System Of A Down, Billy Talent and Snow Patrol. But the latter bands don't have any influence on RAMMSTEIN. It was different in the beginning. ‘Du hast’ is definitely inspired by Ministry. Okay, one of our new tracks, 'Haifisch', sounds a little like Depeche Mode, but we're forgiven. Otherwise, our music should always be independent, because if you follow in the footsteps of others, you leave no traces.

Flake: Punk and Neue Deutsche Welle influenced me. When Trio and Ideal came along, I was thrilled. You sang in German AND made good music, and that was very rare. It was usual for bands to either sing in German or make good music. Konstantin Wecker, for example, had flawless lyrics, but you couldn't listen to them. Ideal put it in a nutshell: "Come on, let's get shot! » There was nothing better. Well, and the punk. Ramones and such. I'm not as euphoric as I was then when I discover a new band. You don't live the new things that way anymore and don't get involved with them as much.

Please describe your previous albums briefly and concisely. We start with “Herzeleid”.

Paul: Tough and naive.

Flake: "Herzeleid" which means "Herzeleid".

"Sehnsucht".

Paul: Our biggest success in America.

Flake: It went on.

“Mutter”.

Paul: The end of the first phase of RAMMSTEIN.

Flake: A cramp for me, because the third record is the hardest.

“Reise, Reise”.

Paul: New beginning and maximum bombast.

Flake: The Liberation.

“Rosenrot”.

Paul: The secret second half of the double album "Reise, Reise".

Flake: It's just beautiful.

“Liebe ist für alle da”.

Paul: Back to the beginning from today's perspective.

"Liebe ist für alle da" shows strong parallels to your debut "Herzeleid". Firstly, it's very hard, and secondly, love in all its facets, both beautiful and dirty, is the overriding theme. Although your new album seems a bit more positive. On “Herzeleid” you are exclusively evil, betrayed men.

Paul: Musically, "Liebe… “ is supposed to be the more mature brother of "Herzeleid". Lyrically, that wasn't intentional. The number of well-sounding German words is limited. And topics that could be relevant for us are also limited. This means that it is very difficult for Till to still find something new after about 70 texts that have been published. Well, I can't even get a single verse. If you see it as “Liebe…” being more positive, I don't want to talk you into that.

What do you think of the following thesis: An important reason for your success at the time was that the public thought you were humorless. A big reason for your continued success is that you occasionally reveal humor.

Flake: We were unintentionally funny at first. And that's funnier than trying to be funny on purpose. You have to be humorless for it to be funny. From the moment you start faxing like Mittermeier, it's no longer funny.

Paul: I don't think that lack of humor leads to success. Karl Lagerfeld once said that luck and coincidence are very important. Some people struggle and struggle and still don't make it. And then there's a group like Tokio Hotel — there's a bang and nobody knows why. You are completely overwhelmed and ask yourself: why now? The tongue-in-cheek that we overdid on the last record — like in the video for 'Keine Lust' — stops now too. We're getting serious again. The fans also say: "Man, Paul, stop being funny again. We want you badder again. "Yes, and now they're getting mad at us again.

#Rammstein #Paul Landers #Flake Lorenz #Till Lindemann #Oliver Riedel #Christoph Schneider #Richard Kruspe #interview #translation #2009 #*

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

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The Long Con Part Two

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Thanks for all of the encouragement on the first couple of parts of this 🥰💕 I hope y’all had a good week! 💖 Warnings: Cursing; some angst Summary: “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.”

“Alright, I’ve got a list,” You said, shrugging off your bag and setting it down beside Marcus’ couch. “A list?” Marcus repeated, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water for you, “Of what?” “Thank you-- Things that we need to sort out before we get to Austin. Look, you’re a shitty liar, right? Your words, I’m paraphrasing,” You tacked on, reaching into your bag and pulling out your notebook and a pen.

“Uh-huh,” Marcus agreed amusedly. “Right, so hopefully if we sort out our details now, you won’t feel so freaked when we’re down there. And you won’t be trying to cobble together facts on the fly. That would get incredibly messy— especially if we’re going to pull this off all week.” “A full week of lying to my family,” Marcus sighed, “Talk about a long con, huh?” You glanced up at him from under your lashes, amused. “God, you’re such a boy scout. And technically you’ve already lied to them, you started the second you told Marnie that you were bringing me— though that’s technically not a lie anymore. Just...Don’t think about it as lying, pretend you’re undercover or something,” You shrugged, flipping your notebook over to your list of questions. “So I’d be lying to myself about the lie? Isn’t that compounding it?” “You’re overthinking it, Agent.” “You might want to start calling me Marcus.” “Right,” You muttered, “I will...Remember to do that.” “So what’s on the list?” Your eyes darted up from your list as you watched Marcus shrug out of his suit jacket. You’d seen Pike in less-than-pristine states before, especially throughout the Coleman case. You’d seen him with his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and when you were half-tweaked on caffeine in your cramped office, it was… more than a little distracting. You leaned forward, picking up the glass and taking a pull from it before setting it down and settling back again. “Basics first,” You said, “How we met. I say we stick with ‘work’.” “That’s not a lie.” “I know, I thought you’d like that.” “I do.” “Okay. How long have we been together?” “Uh...Few months at least-- Five?” “I can handle five,” You jotted it down, “How come you haven’t mentioned me to them before?” You glanced over at Marcus, smiling a little when you saw his panicked expression. “Or have you gotten this one already?” You added. “No, I haven’t-- Work has been busy? Again, I think that would be sufficient, so-- Hang on.” You raised your brows as Marcus leaned back against his couch. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “What’s happening over there?” You asked. “We should change how long we’ve been together to...Maybe two or three months? If we’d been together for five and I hadn’t said anything, my family would be very suspicious.” You nodded, scribbling out ‘5’ and writing ‘2-3’. “‘Kay. Are there any significant past relationships - serious girlfriends, fiancés that I should know about? I don’t need full details, just, like, broad strokes so that if someone mentions something, I’m not completely in the dark.” “One ex-wife, one ex-fiancé,” Marcus answered without hesitation. You nodded a little, jotting that down, and stilled when he added, “My ex-wife will be at the wedding.” “Good to know. Is that contentious?” “No,” Marcus shook his head, “No, it ended amicably.” You considered Marcus, his puppy-dog eyes, soft smile and kind nature, and you couldn’t imagine it ending any other way. “She’s still close to my family,” He tacked on. “Oh,” You laughed a little, “Great. That’s gonna be fun for me.” “What do you mean?” Marcus frowned. You shot him a look. “Your family is still close to your ex-wife. You’re bringing a new girlfriend home. You don’t think this could get a little tense? Or is your entire family just as nice as you are?” Your brows rose as Marcus laughed a little, his head ducking bashfully at the question. “We try not to judge,” he conceded, shrugging, “I’ve brought a couple of other people home since the divorce. They’re not going to jump to conclusions.” You hummed, glancing further down your list. Your stomach twisted at one question, but it was one that you knew that you had to ask. “Speaking of jumping to conclusions,” You shifted in your seat, “Is there anyone in your family that might run a background check on me?” “A background check?” “Yeah,” You nodded, “I mean, I know my records are sealed and wouldn’t pop if someone ran a normal background check on me, but if anyone in your family is in law enforcement like you and...And went poking?” “No, they wouldn’t,” Marcus shook his head. “You sure?” “I’m positive.” You lowered your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stopper asking for a third reassurance as you jotted the note down. “...You don’t trust easily, do you?” Marcus asked softly. The question turned your blood icy for a moment. But for as much ire as it raised in you, you were careful not to take offense. You knew that he wasn’t trying to get a rise out of you - you were doing the guy a favor, and it would be pretty ill-advised of the man to piss you off at this point. “What ever gave you that idea?” You teased instead, giving him a look out of the corner of your eye. Marcus’ lips twitched with a smile and you returned it. “Alright,” You added, looking through the rest of your list, “Let’s see what else we’ve got before we start drilling this stuff.”

“Drilling?” “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.” “Marcus.” “Hey, it was better than ‘Agent’.” “At least I’m not the only one that needs practice.” --

“Run it by me again,” You requested, tucking one leg up under yourself and leaning back against the arm of the couch. Marcus sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He’d ditched the tie, had popped the top few buttons of his shirt, and his sleeves had been rolled up around his elbows. The man looked a little haggard - it was precious. He straightened up, brow scrunching before his head tipped to the side just a little. “Okay. Okay, we met a year ago when I moved to D.C... You work with the Bureau, assisting on cases, mostly art forgeries.” You nodded encouragingly, waving him on. “We started dating two and a half months ago,” He’d settled on that, finally, not wanting to pick two or three, “After we spent so much time together on the Coleman case. You’re an art history professor, you...Have been engaged twice before,” He added, pointing a finger at you. You rolled your eyes a little bit. “Keep going,” You ordered. You raised a brow as Marcus’ brow furrowed a little more, his head turning just a bit. “You don’t have any siblings, you’re not close to your family, and we have not set any plans for the future in stone...Yet.” “Why do you keep tacking on that ‘yet’?” “Because my family knows me. They know I think about those things, and they know I don’t get into relationships unless I really think there’s something there. If they feel me pulling back on that, they’ll think it’s because I’m worried about scaring you off.” “You’re bringing me home not only to meet your family, but to stay there for a week and for a wedding-- which your entire family will be attending. I think that’s a healthy fear,” You retorted. Marcus smiled a little bit, raising his hand in concession. “How’d I do?” He asked. “Much better. You didn’t close your eyes halfway through to remember the details and you stopped ticking things off on your fingers. You do this thing, though, when you’re getting ready to lie, it’s like watching someone wind up for a pitch.” “What do I do?” “You do this--” You imitated Marcus’ furrowed brow and tilted head, “It’s subtle, but you always do it.” “You think my family’ll notice?” “Only if you play poker with them.” Marcus chuckled, slouching back against the arm of the couch and scrubbing his hand over his face. “God, I’m beat,” He muttered. You nodded a little, shutting your notebook and getting ready to tell Marcus that you would get out of his hair. “Wanna go get some dinner?” Was his next question. -- “Did you seriously just order pancakes?” You asked, brows raised. You’d wound up at a diner not too far from Marcus’ apartment - somewhere where the staff seemed to know and were very fond of him. “Yeah,” Marcus nodded firmly, “Dinner is the best time for breakfast.” You chuckled a little, reaching out and taking up your soda. “So, engaged twice?” He asked. You rolled your eyes a little. “Once in college, when I was young and...Quite stupid,” You admitted, “And then once a couple of years ago.” “What happened the second time, if you don’t...Mind?” Marcus cringed a little as he asked. It took you a moment to answer, and he rushed to add, “You don’t have to tell me.” You shook your head. “It’s okay,” You promised, “I, um… I told them that I had a record.” Marcus’ expression softened. “You hadn’t told them before?” “We moved really fast, which I usually don’t when it comes to relationships. I don’t know, usually that stuff is always on my mind when I’m with someone, but with them it never really felt like it mattered. When I did tell them, though, it…” Your eyes lowered to the table as regret twisted in your stomach, “It broke everything.” “Did you tell them what happened?” “They didn’t give me the chance.” The two of you were quiet for a few moments - Marcus digesting this information as you sat in the swirl of bitterness that it had dredged up. “Anyway,” You shook your head, drawing the both of you out of it, “Guess it shouldn’t really matter that they left when they did. I realized later that, given their reaction, they were going to leave no matter when I told them… How much of that you disclose to your family is up to you.” Marcus didn’t say anything for a few moments, searching your face. “Know what I never understood?” He finally asked. “What?” “Why they never nailed any of the people buying from you or your grandmother.” You shot him a skeptical look. “You know that it’s not punishable by law to buy a forgery or be a rich piece of shit.” “You were a kid,” Marcus frowned. You considered this for a moment, directing your eyes to the ceiling to find the best way to order your thoughts. “...I was a minor,” You contended, “But I was old enough to know that what we were doing was wrong. I… I knew that we were duping people, I knew that it was illegal. I knew the paintings were forgeries, and I knew that the people that we were dealing with were dangerous. I’m just lucky I wasn’t tried as an adult.” “You were raised to do all of that and then left hung out to dry by the person that was supposed to protect you,” Marcus argued quietly. You swallowed thickly, hurriedly looking to the table as you felt tears spring up in your eyes. You tried not to think about these things most days. And for Marcus to have this level of empathy, of understanding...You were sure that the man had glanced through your case file at some point when he started working with you, but hadn’t expected this. Most people didn’t look too far past what you were doing to try and understand how you’d come to be in your position. But then, most people weren’t Marcus. “...No wonder I don’t trust easy, huh?” You tried to joke after you’d blinked the tears away and lifted your eyes back to his, a thin smile on your lips. Before he could say another word on the matter, the food arrived.

The two of you tucked in quietly, After a few minutes, you nudged his foot with yours.

“Tell me about Marnie? And her fiancé, um… Hazel, right?” You requested.

Marcus’ face pulled with a fond smile, and you felt ease wash over you again. -- “So, just let me know what the wedding colors are so I don’t wind up wearing a dress that matches them and we should be all good,” You reached for your bag as Marcus pulled his car up in front of your apartment building. “Sure thing.” “And if you think of anything else that your family might ask about us, you know, so we can plan ahead.” “I will.” “Okay-- Oh! Uh… Are you a big PDA guy? Like, is that something your family’s going to expect?” “I tend to be kinda touchy, yeah, but I can tone it down.” “Well, what are we talking about here? Hand-holding, hugging?” “Yeah,” He nodded, “And probably a hand on your shoulder or your back, maybe a kiss on your cheek or forehead or…” Anticipation thrummed through you as his gaze darted to your lips. “‘Kay,” You nodded a little, feeling your heartbeat tick up in your chest. “We don’t have to--” Marcus started to reassure, but you waved him off. “It’s totally fine,” You reassured him, “I trust you.” Marcus smiled at you, a gentle smile overtaking his lips. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get you those wedding colors as soon as I can.” “Thanks,” You smiled, “Night, Marcus.” “Goodnight,” He chuckled as you got out of the car. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana

#The Long Con #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike Fic #Marcus Pike Imagine

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animecreator3000 · 3 years

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About the Boueibu iceberg

@delphoxqueen asked me to explain about my list for the iceberg so here it is. I might update this from time to time with links and stuff if I stumble across the original posts. This is all from what I know so feel free to add new info. Also, spoiler warning for RobiHachi and the Boueibu manga and novels. (This is like a masterpost it’s very long)

1. There’s a theory in tumblr about which decade the series is set in, using data like the friday the 13th calendar in s2 ep11. In HK we got a second number for when the next monthly Pretty Boy Contest was happening and using the one from Love it was theorized that around a decade had passed since then, which ended up being true.

2. The stage play had a few original songs and characters exclusive to it so unless you watched the full performance, you probably weren’t able to witness all of them. One of the characters is called “Robato Deniro”, as romanized in the stage play booklet I own.

3. The nurse and the cafeteria staff from the s1 mobile game appear in the background in around the first half of s2 ep3.

4. S2 had an unfinished manga that was only available online and was never released on physical format; it was centered around the defense club and sometimes the conquest club and Beppu brothers. All that’s left from what I know are the scans linked on magicalgirlsandcerulean’s blog.

5. This isn’t that obscure because it’s talked about in the anime, but I’m mentioning it because I think many people dropped it before the ova, where right at the beginning it is revealed that the alien that resucitated Mr. Tawarayama twice was, as described by Io, a “mulberry-colored naked mole rat-looking thing”, and was nicknamed “Moley-san” by Yumoto. At least in the anime, we had never heard before of who this was and it never appeared on screen nor was mentioned again.

6. In HK ep8, Karurusu promises the knights to grant a wish if they show him how earthlings spend summer. Kyoutarou reveals at the end of the episode that he wished that summer lasted one more day so he could spend it doing nothing, which prompts Ichiro to theorize that it’s the 32nd of august, and the next day is the second 1st of september.

7. The stage play was was held from march 10th to 13rd, of which the latter is Ryuu’s birthday. There’s an additional recording of a small celebration with cake focused on Ryuu and Io.

8. Atsushi mentions his older sister in the flashback at the beginning of s1 ep4, but she never appears or is mentioned again.

9. There’s a few posts on tumblr theorizing about what happened to the Hakone parents since Yumoto only says in s2 ep3 that according to Gora, “they are busy with their hot springs tour”. En mentions that it’s a bit suspicious, but it’s all the information we have from the anime. Posts talk about the parents perhaps passing away from an accident or an illness, thus the reason why Gora was so worried about Yumoto’s cold in s1 ep10, but from another post I think it’s implied in the second novel that they actually left their home when Yumoto was still a toddler.

10. It’s no secret that the surnames of the characters are all real onsens in Japan that even the seiyuus have visited, but apparently the Arima onsen has two different kinds of water, “kinsen (gold hot spring)” and “ginsen (silver hot spring)”, with different properties each, and the Kusatsu onsen water also has certain properties, both that were used to build the characters. Additionally, Ryuu’s favorite food are Sato Nishiki cherries, which are grown in the same prefecture, Yamagata, as his onsen, Zaou.

11. The press club lose relevance after s1, with only Kinosaki and Tazawa reappearing briefly in s2 ep2 to interview the Beppu twins after they arrive at the school. Tazawa doesn’t even have lines. Hireashi is mentioned by Zundar in ep11.

12. What the heck

13. Exclusively in the manga we see that Arima met Kinshiro and Atsushi when they were little and they were good friends, but when they met again as adults, Kinshiro seemingly didn’t remember Arima. Atsushi, however, stated that Kinshiro’s talent is remembering people’s faces and names, so Arima wonders if he’s just trying to distance himself from him. He also explains to Akoya that he follows Kinshiro and obeys him because as a child, he was fascinated by his radiant smile. This is never talked about in the anime.

14. Like the previous point, the anime never shows Akoya being bullied, at most just a slight dislike of his full name, but the manga shows that he was made fun of for it and how he actually hates his surname, to the point of introducing himself formally to the president and vicepresident of the student council as “Holy Angel Akoya”.

15, 16, 17, 19. Batonama lives were the livestreams done through the franchise by the defense club seiyuus on youtube and niconico. They’re all on youtube, without any kind of translation.

Love-ko is a girl with a shell bikini drawn on a piece of cardboard that was used as a girlfriend in the Batonama Love! lives, acted by the seiyuus themselves.

RobiHachi has one episode full of official Boueibu artwork and a parody of the series too, a Love-ko doll appears, and Wombat appears as well, named “The Don”. It received an english dub, so for a bit, people were excited that Wombat was going to speak in english too. Also, various mechas appear in both Boueibu and RobiHachi.

18. The director of Fairy Ranmaru (Masakazu Hishida if I’m not wrong) revealed in an interview that he was inspired by Boueibu and aimed to make a show like that.

20, 21. The website super-groupies.com has results for defense and conquest club lingerie sets, dc and VEPPer tote bags, the Beppus’ scarf rings, dc bath sets and the pumps magicalgirlsandcerulean mentioned. I’ve found the s1 Loveracelets and Caerula Adamas’ ring on different sites, the True Loveracelets on TheChara’s twitter and the Happybraces (apparently called “Hapibure”) on broccoli.co.jp but I’m not sure where exactly they were all announced and sold, so I’ll just drop that.

22, 33. Boueibu was originally pretty much a copy of Sailor Moon, I think they were all going to be called “Lackluster Moon” and that stuff and be literally Sailor Moon genderbent. They were all different from color palettes to physical features (except Yumoto’s), and Ryuu was a shota, even smaller than Yumoto. Their names were also very reminiscent of the five Sailor Senshis’. Even if they made it more original, the show is still clearly inspired by Sailor Moon (just look at Caerula Adamas lol) and Pretty Cure. It has also referenced, very blatantly, animes like Doraemon, Detective Conan, Aikatsu and even Vocaloid, when Kyoutarou tries to guess what Karurusu is saying with ““Just Google It, Asshole”?” in ep1.

23. Wombat’s real name and the name of his planet sound like gibberish to the earthlings and ends up being named after the Earth animal, but Zundar, Dadacha, Karurusu and Furanui all have original names. And I think Hireashi means “goldfish”?

24. If you google “zundar technology”, it’s actually a company in Shanghai, China. Aren’t Wombat and Zundar always talking about “advanced alien technology”?

25. Zundar and Dadacha are siblings, so are Karurusu and Furanui, and so are their father King Kamopapa and their uncle minister Wao, but neither are the same species and, except the first two, not even the same color. But they are supposedly related because they share birthmarks or something like that...

26. Everyone who’s in this fandom knows about the pixel blur and voice pitch censor from s1, but I’ve added it anyway because it’s so rare for mahou shoujo and shounen animes to explain why the heroes aren’t recognized when transformed.

27. A good while of s2 ep11 is spent discussing Zundar’s ex-wife and his problems to give child support. Naturally, he gets mad at this.

28. “Money doesn’t betray” (s1 ep6) and “The despair hidden behind your smile that comes from not being understood” (s3 ep11) are sentences that came out of nowhere and implied that the people they were said by (Io) or about (Taiju) respectively had some kind of angst going on but were never explained at all. They’re famous for just that.

29. The Beppu twins’ house in Andromeda shown in flashbacks had strange green circles that apparently are from another anime I don’t know but honestly I didn’t get it very well... It was revealed on a tweet from Takamatsu.

30. Alien language mostly appeared in s2 due to the many flashbacks of Aki and Haru in Andromeda, but in Boueibu s1, it appears on the Zundar Needle before it is shot on the human. It appears a lot through RobiHachi as well, due to being a story about travelling through space. There might be an alphabetical chart somewhere, but I can’t assure it exists, I might even have dreamed it.

31. Hikaru Midorikawa as the melon monster, Kousuke Toriumi as the bishounen monster, Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as the kotatsu and panda monsters and Takuya Eguchi as the remote controller monster in s1 and 2, before going on to voice the main cast in HK. Keisuke Koumoto voiced Hatchi Kita in RobiHachi as well as Akihiko in Boueibu, and the characters look similar.

A new addition is that so far Boueibu is the only anime I’ve seen where children weren’t voiced by female seiyuus, but by actual children. Personally, it’s charming and makes it so much more realistic, specifically since no women appear in the franchise at all either (not counting Protag-chan in the game).

32. Speaking of seiyuus, Can I Destroy The Earth? had a dub shown in ep11/12 (?) that made Gora the villain that wanted Earth to stay the same and not progress, against the monsters that supposedly wanted to bring good things to earthlings. Aki and Haru quickly dismissed this dub as fake. (I made a mistake in the title in the previous post btw)

34. As seen in the glossary in the Boueibu Mook (I think, but might not be the mook), Caerula Adamas’ speeches are based on an old japanese detergent commercial that went “Gold, silver, pearl, gift”.

35. In the manga there’s a short parody of the first chapter of Sailor Moon with “Pretty Boy Guardian Gakuran Akoya”. The conquest club manga was released before the anime, so I remember reading somewhere that a fake website appeared for the Gakuran Akoya manga, before turning into the conquest club manga website in the day of its release.

36. Cgi was used a few times in the anime: s2 ep10 for a short sequence of the defense club on a rollercoaster and the carousel monster, ep11 for a cenital shot of the Battle Lovers singing, and HK ep12 for the Honyalaland soldiers and the Wao mecha.

37. The toothbrush incident in s1 ep7. (It’s definitely well-known but it’s so weird lol)

38. “We hope we can see each other again someday!” Something along those lines was the last text to appear in the last episode of HK, implying a s2. We all know how that went.

#boueibu #new post bc i didn't put a readmore in the other one and it was getting too long #msorry #long post #speaking of the robihachi eng dub... sarazanmai has one too...#so many animes like those get dubs but not boueibu?! HOW UNFAIR #at least we got the funimation subs #is the game even canon??#i mean with stuff like how everyone is apparently straight in there #even yumoto who pretty much came out as gay in the anime #that's very inconsistent #i mean. it is canon but maybe it's like an au? idk #also we need gakuran akoya to be real lmao #also no prequel with gora or hk s2. WHYYYY #i think this took me four hours

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soundsof71 · 3 years

Photo

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women.

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these.

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music.

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney.

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here.

TURN IT UP!

youtube

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.”

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

youtube

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

youtube

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other!

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

youtube

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters.

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too!

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

youtube

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too.

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

#me #new classics #classic rock #women in rock #best of 2020 #bully #ganser #the tissues #gum country #nova twins #essay #youtube #punk rock #punk

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daddysfangirls-anime · 3 years

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To bare my hate (2/3)

Warning: Angst, language, mention suicide, attempted suicide, mention of child abuse, death, murder, blood

Mirio x reader

1 | 2 | 3

Taking Nezu and Aizawa’s advice Mirio was determined to spend more time with (Y/n) but only to prove to them that she was a Villain and had bad intentions.

“What are you doing” Mirio demanded as he found (Y/n) sitting in the grass outside writing in a journal and watching people.

“Getting sun. Vitamin D is very important for the immune system,” she stated looking up and smiling gently up at him. Looking at her notebook and quickly snatches it from her looking at what despicable plans she was writing down. Instead, he finds pictures, more specifically, sketches of different people ranging for students to teachers, they were really good. Mirio scoffed and tossed the book back at her hitting her in the head. She mumbled a soft ‘ouch’ rubbing the spot on her head that was hit she still smiled at him sweetly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“What are your plans?”

“Well, I’ve finished my homework so I don’t have much to do for today. Maybe I’ll take a nap after this. Unless you want me to do something for you that is”

No, Villain would give up their plan so easily although she seemed nice he knew it could all be an act. He had made the mistake of misreading a situation before and lost Eri the first time he would not do it again.

He took a seat on the grass next to her and said nothing. She didn’t say anything either continuing her drawing and watching people.

“Why are you drawing these people?” Mirio asked

“People are interesting. People look interesting. Everyone is different. If you look close enough you can see even the smallest differences.” he looked at her confused.

“For example, Present Mic is more tired than Aizawa. You see, Although Aizawa is always sleeping about he is always alert, well-minded, and his work is done. Present Mic, on the other hand, is always drinking coffee, speaking often loudly and rapidly, acting erratically, forgetting, and falling behind in work. Plus Aizawa has two jobs a hero and teacher Mic has four a hero, teacher, Dj, and running a radio station. Aizawa and Mic just handle stress differently. Aizawa often avoids unnecessary stress if possible with his naps while Mic likes to run into stress head first or panic. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Aizawa and Midnight that man wouldn’t function properly.”

She turned her journal towards him showing him a sketch of Mic sleeping at his desk Aizawa putting a blanket over him and Midnight closing his laptop.

“You seem to know a lot about the staff here”

“Well, I do spend a lot of time with them. They are my family.” (Y/n) began to gather up her things and stood up “ This was nice we should do it again sometime. Bye, Bye Mirio.”

Mirio wanted her to stay talk to her more possibly get more out of her but he couldn’t find a way to keep her there and instead watched her walk away. She seemed so kind, so nice, and innocent but Mirio knew better this had to be an act of some sort. She was playing everybody and he was going to expose this game sooner or later. He was going to learn her secrets. She was a villain and he was going to prove it.

Mirio continued the action of spending time with (Y/n), even though he didn’t like her or want to, learning as much as he could or what she would tell him. Mirio's treatment towards her was unkind and a few people witness. He had a habit of insulting and belittling her and even physically hurting her, but nothing too serious( the small physical assaults stopped after Tamaki stepped in). But the most upsetting part was that (Y/n) took it all with a smile she never spoke ill of Mirio, never told on him, or fought back. She took it and never said a word just smiling and letting him go on.

“You’re not being very nice,” Nejiro said scolding Mirio as they watched (Y/n) walk away smiling as usual. (Y/n) hadn’t done very well on a test when the results fell out of her binder Mirio picked them up and began making fun of her for her low scores.

“I’m trying to provoke her so she’ll so her true colors”

“It didn’t look like that” Tamaki mumbled to himself but the others still heard him, they choose to ignore the comment.

“She’s a villain how is no one else seeing this?!”

“Probably because they’re so focused on the guy that’s bullying her,” Aizawa said casually walking by them

“Who?” he stopped and looked directly at Mirio.

“You. You are so convinced she’s a villain that you didn’t take a moment to think that maybe she’s a victim.” Aizawa said walking away shaking his head with a look of disappointment.

“He’s right,” Tamaki said he was now facing the wall appearing in a slump.

“You should talk to her and actually get to know her. Ask her what really happen? You might find out something new and interesting” Nejiro said poking his cheek before leaving him in the hall very confused and conflicted.

“Are you a villain?” Mirio said barging into (Y/n)’s room she was lying across her head she slowly sat up.

“No”

“Your parents were heroes and good people and you killed them.”

“... I let them die but I didn’t kill them.”

“How is that not the same thing?”

(Y/n) dragged her feet she didn’t want to go home she wasn’t ready to go home but it was too late she had done everything in her power to stall going home. Staying late at school doing homework, studying, and helping teachers, Taking a long way home, pretending to get lost, offering help to those she pasted. But now there was nothing more she could do and she had to meet her faint.

As she took slow steps home it began to rain but she didn’t pick up her pace if anything she took smaller steps and let the rain soak through her clothes she didn’t care.

Honestly, (Y/n) was praying neither of her parents was home and they instead got called away on some useless job. (Y/n) parents are famous pro-heroes their high popularity stemmed from them being an adorable couple with compatible quirks. But what happened on the outside was always very different than what happened on the inside. On the outside, they were heroes they saved people and worked for justice on the inside they were none of the such she had the scars and bruises to prove it. Looking can be deceiving.

As she crossed the bridge leading to her house she stopped and looked over the edge.

Maybe this life wasn’t cut out for her. Maybe that was what all this was life telling she wasn’t wanted and that she should go before it got any worse. She steps to the railing. Maybe she should join Ken. Ken was a friend of her life got too hard for her both home and school the bullies were too much and she deicide it was all the signs of life telling her to give up and give up she did jumping off of this very same bridge and year and a half earlier.

But as much as she wanted too she couldn’t join Ken she had promised her she’d become a hero for her. And she was working towards that goal attending UA, although it was a bit of set back being put in the general education course she would continue to work towards her goal and make Ken happy somehow.

Stepping back from the railing she continued her slow walk home.

When (Y/n) finally arrived home she found her front door ajar slowly and quietly she steps in the house. In the hallway by the front door, she found her father a large amount of his left side was missing and blood was everywhere. He was dead. But she wasn’t phased she didn’t care carefully stepping over his body and around the blood, she continues into the house.

She hears whimpering in the living room and follows the sounds. There she finds three men in plague doctor masks. Two standing against the wall and one kneeling over her mother who was beaten and bloody laying on the floor.

Ignoring the men she looks down at the woman laying on the floor. The woman reached for her with shaky hands

“..Mother?”

There was a cry and then her blood was everywhere and her head was gone.

“Oh” was all (Y/n) could say as she looked at the blood-stained couch. She was unphased by the woman's murder, honestly, she couldn’t call her mother and probably shouldn’t she never was.

The man stood and slowly walked towards her “ I just killed your mother yet you don’t seem phased. why is that ?”

“She was never a mother, to begin with, nor he a father... Are you going to kill me too? Can we do it somewhere else I don’t want to die next to them.”

He stepped forward raising his hand towards her cheek just inches away from touching her “You’re... interesting”

“ I... I just didn’t care at that point... God, that’s terrible isn’t it” (Y/n) said laying on her back covering her eyes at the ceiling a small smile on her face.

Mirio was really confused now. He was upset to hear that her parents, pro heroes at that, were abusing her but he was also angry thinking she had walked away with Overhaul after she witnesses him kill her parents. It was all confusing.

“Your parents were hurting you and you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked now sitting at her desk.

“I didn’t think anyone would care, they were pro heroes and I was a little girl who already had a bad record. I was blamed and accused of a lot of things I didn’t do at school. After they were killed it was found out because our house had security cameras Overhaul had taken the footage from that night but left everything else. The police found it but didn’t do anything with it because they were already dead. They didn’t make it public as they didn’t want to ruin their image after death.” she sighed

“Why did you join Overhaul? You watched him kill them.”

“No one ever cared abomhut me before he came along. Not even the heroes were good to me. He took care of me he was so good to me” (Y/n) closed her eyes as tears slowly streamed down her face “ He was so good to me, no one was ever good to me. I-I didn’t deserve such goodness, I don’t deserve it”

As (Y/n) began to sob Mirio didn’t know what to do rolling over he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder as she continues to cry. And they just sit there without words.

#boku no hero academia #mirio fanfiction #mirio togata #bnha mirio #mirio x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha #my hero academy fanfiction #fanfiction #my hero academia

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dianapocalypse · 3 years

Text

so I’m having a very interesting (for me) mass effect legendary edition playthru and i wanna talk about it even tho no one but me will be interested so UNDER THE CUT WE GO!

this probably isn’t interesting to anyone but me but I wanted to write it down for posterity lol

so this time around, I spent a LONG TIME staring at the character creator, not even making anything. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make my ‘main’ Shepard, play Jane just for the new model in ME1, or make a new Shep entirely. and if I did the last one, did I want to play differently this time??

i ended up making a shepard that was PRETTY similar to my main one. they’re both vanguards (didn’t want to learn a new kit bc my ability to hold a controller is pretty limited these days), both earthborn, same haircut but different overall appearances. this time I went war hero instead of sole survivor, since I’ve played those sidequests so many times at this point. I hit start and named her Kieran, not really knowing what I was going for with this shep and expecting I’d mostly make the same choices, romance garrus, etc

so the first few hours of the game I played p much like I always do. more paragon options than usual, but I attribute that more to me changing than character choices. I also started picking the middle options I always ignore just to see what they are. grabbed Liara, did bring down the sky, nothing new or unusual until I start talking to garrus.

is it just me, or does garrus.... kinda hit different in 2021? don’t get me wrong, still one of my favorite fictonal characters of all time, but also... garrus is a loose canon police officer who thinks regulations that, presumably, are in place to protect peoples’ rights, should be ignored for what he deems is the greater good. while we as players know garrus’s morals are in the right place, uh... if I met someone like that in real life I’d expect them to be a complete jackass. im also american so that contributes to my ill feelings towards police officers, and c-sec in the games is generally portrayed as being a much less awful organization than the american police state, but I’ve definitely gone from always supporting Garrus when he thinks a fucker needs to die to being like... garrus rules are there for a reason, people have RIGHTS

and then like. kieran shepard is earthborn, she was in gangs. she... probably doesn’t like cops either? my last shep was, too, but tbh I didn’t think about it all that much. for the first time I’m playing a shepard that does not trust garrus and that’s WILD.

so then I’m doing sidequests on the citadel, and earthborns get a gang member from their past who tries to blackmail shep into busting one of their members out of prison. for the first time ever, I actually didn’t have the paragon or renegade points necessary to resolve the situation in a ‘good’ way for me. I got to the end of it, and my only options were to bribe him to leave me alone, or shoot him.

i’ll say in my defense, I thought shoot him would be more ‘shoot him in the leg to show him i meant business’, but shep straight up killed him, and I was like, woah. I’m gonna have to figure out how to make THAT work with this character arc!

and the turian cop who he wants you to talk to, he’s right there, and says “wow, I guess maybe the first human spectre will get things done!’ or something, indicating like. that was the Right Thing To Do by his standards. just kill a dude in public for threatening blackmail.

so in role playing games, i try to justify decisions my characters make, even if it’s a decision that I didn’t make on purpose--it’s more fun for me to try to gather these disparate character choices and cohere them into a character than to try to get it ‘right’ for the character i’m playing, if that makes sense. so here, even tho I was definitely not intending to kill that dude, I wanted to find a way to make it work for Kieran Shepard. and it’s kinda ended up shaping the whole way I’m playing her, and it’s cool and interesting bc this is a shepard unlike any I’ve played before! i’m always so focused on min/maxing my character, especially their paragon/renegade points to get the ‘best’ outcomes, that ive never been faced with something like that.

so I think this is where I’ve landed:

Kieran Shepard grows up on the streets, she does not trust authority. all she has is her crew, and herself, more importantly. she does some bad shit, she gets into trouble, she’s strong-headed and stubborn. later in life, she gets recruited to the alliance military. frankly, I think she keeps a lot of the same attitude and distrust of authority, but this is a paycheck, and I think since the Tenth Street Reds are getting really human supremacist and xenophobic, she gets out and needs to go Somewhere that her past won’t follow her--space. off earth.

mostly she’s a shithead at first. gets into trouble with the brass all the time. but she’s got a really good head for tactics. she knows how to think like a merc gang, she thinks of strategies in simulations that higher ups wouldn’t ever consider. think like. star trek 2009 captain kirk basically lmao.

and then anderson gets a hold of her. for the first time in her life, she has like, a Parental Figure, someone who knows she can do better and expects her to. and she FLOURISHES. suddenly she’s got motivation, she’s straightening up. she’s positioned on elysium and the skyllian blitz starts, and one thing she knows how to do, something she’s always been good at, it surviving, and rallying people around her to fight, not roll over and die. her skills from her life as a gangster marry with her skills as a soldier and she rallies the colonists to beat back the invasion. with her STREET SMARTS!

now she’s a war hero, and she’s starting to feel the impostor syndrome set in. she gets a medal, she gets accolades, promotions--she’s just a scrappy former criminal and she doesn’t deserve this. she doesn’t deserve any of it, or anderson’s regard. she starts spending her time trying to be The Perfect Soldier to make up for her past. for the first time, it’s a point of embarrassment to her, not a point of pride. it’s public record, sure, but she needs her entire existence to refute it. she needs to be Commander Shepard now, she needs to be The First Human Spectre, she needs to be PERFECT.

and then Finch shows up, and he’s threatening her, he wants to drag her back into the Life and he’ll blackmail her if she doesn’t comply. she knows if she bribes him he’ll be back in a month for more, he’ll never stop. so she panics. she shoots this guy, kills him in cold blood, in public. old habits die hard. and the cop practically CONGRATULATES her for it.

kieran, now, is in full blown panic mode about Who She Is. she is very much not a fan of the ‘law and order’ of C-Sec, but she’s also not a fan of the spectres and how they operate, but now she’s becoming the thing she as a teen would have hated the most. and she’s being congratulated for it. can she be trusted with this kind of responsibility?? can anyone???

anyway that’s the last thing I did but I think... honestly? the only character that could help her sort out these feelings? is kaidan alenko.

so. i think this is it. this is the playthru i finally romance kaidan.

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #kaidan alenko #this post is long as fuck but i promise he's in there #kieran shepard tag

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gabywantsafriend · 4 years

Text

Anything For You: Ferris Bueller x Reader

(Kinda my gif??? Idk I found it online but I originally posted it on here)

Requested by anonymous: ferris bueller realizing he loves the reader maybe?

I’m so sorry it took such a long time to post another imagine! I hope you guys enjoy it :’)

Warning: Swearing

“Adams?” “Here.”

“Adamley?” “Here!”

“Adamowski?” A rather lazy hand was raised, indicating the student’s presence.

“Adamson?” “Here.”

“Adler?” The response was delayed by a couple of seconds. “Here.”

“Anderson?” Another delayed response. “Anderson?” “Here!”

“Bueller?”

Nothing. You quickly scanned the room, he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t walk in that morning. You looked at Cameron and he shrugged. Apparently he didn’t know what Ferris was up to or where he was. “Bueller?” Crickets. “Bueller?” Dead silence. “Bueller?” The teacher’s monotonous voice began to sound like a broken record player.

You cleared your throat as you tried impersonating the missing troublemaker, letting out a low “Here.” The class snickered, causing your teacher to silence everyone. Turning to you, he huffed.

“L/n, I know you and Bueller are best friends but you really don’t have to cover for him in his absence. You’ll get your turn in the roll call later, don’t get too excited,” He went on with checking the attendance. You stubbornly sank into your seat, eyeing the vacant one next to you where Ferris was usually sat. What kind of trouble do you have in mind this time?

--------

Recess rolled in and you were standing at the phone booth just outside of your school. You dialed Ferris’ home number and waited for him to pick up. He was probably out on another one of his spontaneous adventures.

“Hello?” His voice was nasally, he was always good at playing sick.

“Oh, cut the crap. Where the hell are you, idiot? This is your tenth absence this semester, you said you didn’t wanna miss school after last time! No wonder your grades are shit! What are you up to now?” You scolded. Skipping class to hang out and be teenagers was fun the first few times. However as it became a habit of Ferris, you wished he could take school more seriously.

“Y/n, calm down. First of all, I could easily hack into the school’s computer system and change my grades,” He coughed. “Second, I’m not kidding this time. I’m actually sick.” You scoffed, muttering a small “yeah right.”

Of course, you found it hard to believe. You’ve known Ferris Bueller since you were ten. And you knew that it took a lot for him to be ill.

“Why would I ever lie to you? I’m serious,” he deadpanned. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Alright, I’ll bring today’s assignments for you and I’ll visit you as soon as class ends.” You could practically hear him smile through the phone as he spoke. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re the best.” You bid goodbye as he did the same, both of you putting down the phone.

Well, what do you know. For the first time in a long time, Ferris Bueller was sick.

--------

You dropped your bike right in front of the Buellers residence and sprinted to the back door. You lifted the rug and took the spare key that Katie Bueller left in case of emergencies or whenever you wanted to visit. You were always welcome. Unlocking the door, you bolted up the steps and stopped in front of the door to your best friend’s room..

“Ferris, you better not be naked. I’m coming in.”

“Hi, Y/n.” The sight was beyond pitiful: The floor was littered with used tissues. Bottles of medicine decorated his dresser. And on the bed was a very pale boy, sniffling and shivering still even under the many layers of blankets he was covered in. Oh, Ferris.

“You look like shit.” He let out a weak chuckle. “It’s nice seeing you too,” he quipped. You rolled your eyes at his untimely use of sarcasm and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Jesus, you’re practically steaming,” You commented, getting up to fetch him an ice pack to hopefully lower his temperature. “I’m flattered, Y/n. I really am. But can you keep it in your pants until after I get well?” You were used to his foul-mouthed jokes by now. “Very funny, loser. Now put this on your forehead,” You handed him the cold material and he obeyed, hissing as it touched his skin.

“Oh, right! I got the homework for you,” you told him, getting your bag and pulling out his books and assessment sheets and laying them on his desk. “I also wrote an extra copy of the notes you missed,” You handed him the pages that you’ve ripped from your notebook where the duplicates were. His eyes, teary from his cold, widened.

“Wha-? But I just asked for you to get today’s assignments! You didn’t have to go an extra mile with taking my notes for me!” He took the papers gratefully, flipping through them. “I’m convinced you’re my guardian angel or some shit! Thank you so much!”

“Anything for you.”

It was true. You’d gladly and endlessly do anything for him.

You’ve liked Ferris since you first covered for him in fifth grade.

Young Ferris thought it’d be a good idea to chuck a bouncy ball at Mrs. Ritland, the math teacher you had all despised. Believe it or not, he was an even bigger idiot back when you were ten. She was writing on the chalkboard, back turned to you; the perfect time to strike. The small toy hit the poor lady’s nape. The classroom was suddenly filled with gasps and the sound of laughter. She exclaimed in pain, rage-filled eyes darting from student to student. Before she could even question which delinquent threw the damned thing, you stood up and raised your hand.

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

Ferris was quick to defend you, chucking another bouncy ball at the woman. “If you even think of punishing her, you’ll have to go through me!”

You were both given a month’s detention and have been inseparable ever since.

“I’m dying,” He croaked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Oh, please. You’re not dying. You just can’t think of anything good to do!” You quoted him. “Didn’t you say that yourself?”

He groaned, “Yes, I did say that myself. But now isn’t the time. I’m really not feeling well, Y/n.”

“Nonsense! It helped Cameron last time, he felt great afterwards.” You got off the bed, trying to pull him up with you. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the covers. “Aww, come on! Get up on your feet, mister! What do you feel like doing today? The weather’s lovely! Maybe we can go swimming? Or perhaps you’d like to go to the arcade? Ooh, street food sounds good! Just tell me where you wanna go, and I’ll take you there!” You coaxed excitedly.

“As much as I love our adventures, I was thinking maybe we could just stay here? You know, we could talk for a while and we can take a nap together just like when we were kids. And when I’m feeling better, we could watch a movie,” Ferris spoke softly, sniffling right after. You hummed, considering his offer.

“You can stay here and rest. I can get us some corn dogs from the stand nearby, I’ll be quick I promi-”

“No, no, you missed my point,” he shook his head, grinning at your stubbornness. “I meant can you stay? We don’t have to go anywhere. I enjoy your company, it’s more than enough,” He pulled the blankets to his nose, hiding his bashful smile as well as his growing blush. You were sure you would have melted then and there.

“Sure thing. Ferris.” You adored this boy.

It had been an hour since you’d agreed to stay in with Ferris and you were seated at his desk, tutoring him about trigonometric functions, a lesson he missed that day. He was reading the notes on the topic, following along with what you were saying. “Okay, I found this to be quite easy. So, we start off with the basics: sine, cosine, and tangent-”

At least, that’s what it looked like.

At first glance, it seemed as though he was actually studying. But what you didn’t know was that he had been admiring your handwriting and your little doodles on the blank spaces of the paper.

See, Ferris liked you. He’s liked you since forever ago. He remembered the moment so vividly, as if it only happened yesterday.

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

He looked at you and thought, “Wow, that is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Obviously, he couldn’t let a pretty girl such as you take the blame for what a stupid boy such as him had done. It just wasn’t fair to you. So he immediately admitted that it was his fault, as he should.

He felt guilty that you had to get wrapped up in this mess and had to suffer the consequences. To make up for it, every time you had detention, he would take you to secret hideouts around the school. That two months of running around school trying not to get caught marked your first of soon-to-be-many adventures.

And now here you were, almost eight years later, helping him solve for x. His eyes softened at how into it you were while teaching him. You were even more beautiful than when you were a kid, just when his younger self thought you couldn’t get any more stunning.

He thought about how you were kind enough to fill him in on everything he’d missed; how as soon as class was dismissed, you biked as quickly as you could just to take care of him. You could have easily ditched him to go out and get those corn dogs you’ve been craving; or you could have easily gone out for a walk since, according to you, “the weather’s lovely.”

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

The mere thought of that, along with everything about you, caused his heart to pound out of his chest.

I think I’m in love with her. Fuck that. I am in love with her.

“...And that explains why sine 90° is equivalent to 1. What the-? Ferris Bueller, are you even listening?” You waved a hand in front of his face, still not responding. He looked as if his mind was somewhere completely different. “Hello? Earth to Ferris?” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. He whispered something you didn’t quite catch. “What?” He whispered again. “I can’t hear you, pal. Speak up.”

“I love you. There, I said it.” You were at a loss for words as your eyes met. Both of you progressively got redder by the second.

“What in the right mind made you say that?” Confusion was evident in your voice, as well as nervousness.

“I’ve loved you for a while now and when you dropped everything to visit me today, I realized how deep I’ve fallen,” Ferris bashfully stated. He could be cheesy at times but you thought it was cute.

“Woah, you are such a fucking sap,” You both burst into laughter, him scoffing and clutching his chest in mock offense. “I love you too, you dingus.”

His heart fluttered as you said it. The mix of his sickness and your confession made him lightheaded. You plopped down on his bed, hugging him tightly. “Wait, what are you doing? You’re too close, I’m gonna get you sick!” He asked as you kissed his nose.

You got under the covers with him, rolling your eyes, “You think I still care? I fucking love you for Christ’s sake!” You made him laugh at that. “How about that nap you suggested earlier, hmm?”

He closed his eyes, the biggest grin still plastered on his face. “She loves me,” being the last thought in his head before contently falling asleep.

#80s #80s movies #ferris bueller's day off #ferris bueller x reader #ferris bueller imagine #imagine #ferris bueller #ferris beuller

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sta-bright · 3 years

Text

My First Tumble

Hi Tumblr,

I was inspired to get a Tumblr account, believe it or not, from Netflix's 2021 four-part docu-series "Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel." Although I highly doubt anyone cares enough to read any of my posts or has the attention span to read anything longer than a few sentences written by a 23 year old with her boobs out, *just in case,* SPOILER ALERT.

The (main) topic of the show focuses around Elisa Lam, who vanished in early 2013 when she was staying at the Cecil Hotel and was then found dead in one of the four water tanks on the roof 19 days after being reported missing (I think I have that correct but don't hold me to it, imaginary readers. It was something like that.).

Anyway, "...to make a long story short"... "too late" #cluereference, Elisa had a Tumblr blog. It seemed to be a good setup for how she was writing very personally, which is what I want to do, so here we go. I have a blog page for the business I own, but to be honest, it's geared more toward, well, business, so I don't feel like I can write freely, or only like the "good" or "normal" part of myself, the good stuff geared at an audience without scaring people away or whatever. So for this one, I don't really care as much about proper grammar or spelling, just somewhere to write my real thoughts if and when I can focus enough to sort them out enough to put them down. I have a bunch of journals, but they are all over the place and I can't write fast enough, so I'm going to try this out. I have a lot to say, and I think even just putting it out there even though I know no one cares might help me feel a little bit of relief, even if anyone does read it and might think I'm an idiot or whatever.

I wasn't sure what to name my blog, and I'm not sure if there's a way to change it in the future, but for now I have decided on "Sta-Bright." Most of my family and some of my close friends call me "Sta" and my partner David calls me Sta Bright, which I think is really cute and makes me happy, so here we are. I use the word partner because I think the word boyfriend is a little too young for us and our relationship warrants a higher level than that. ANYWAY, there is the background information for you, my new friend, Tumblr. I already feel better.

So, this show really pissed me off for a few (many) reasons. I've legitimately been pacing around all morning. First, even the title of the show is misleading. The death of Elisa Lam was not a "crime." It was a devastating incident of accidental death highly likely (as confidently confirmed by all professionals involved) related to a psychotic episode of her mental illness, Bipolar I, which I also happen to have. Netflix using the title "Crime Scene" to lure watchers in is disgusting within itself. Good for you, Netflix. Holla for the dollas! Make that money, baby.

Then, beyond the fact Netflix milked four episodes out of a glamorized case that was ruled an accidental death for this reason not even long after finding Elisa, it is the whole ordeal of the reality and dramatizing of this saga that is so sad.

Upon the release of the famous elevator footage the day she went missing, it went viral almost instantaneously.

*Hold please* I actually just read an article by BBC.com where director of the series, Joe Berlinger, says, "For the average viewer it's another compelling story you watch and then move on to the next. But for who this happened to, it's the worst moment in their life. It's a real tragedy for that person and that family." LOLOLOLOL OKAY JOE!!!! Is this why you spent FOUR EPISODES talking about bullshit theories to keep people hooked and open more discussion? You know that this is not out of respect. Shame on YOU!

"If you look at the other tellings of the story, you'd see she's the victim of some horrible, evil presence that took control of her.

"Those kinds of narratives, I think, are incredibly disrespectful and probably why the family just didn't want to deal with another show that was going to exaggerate the circumstances of the tragedy."

So is this why you made a show exaggerating the circumstances of the tragedy? Lol. "We need to talk about the ghost stories" Or do you need to talk about them to open a can of worms to more losers who fixate on the case? OR IS THAT JUST ME? I don't know. Lemme tell ya what. If anything ever happens to me, please make sure this Joe Schmuck doesn't make a pathetic docuseries about it.

Then, aside from the pathetic profit of Netflix, the actual details of what happened and how society and the "web sleuths" investigated, obsessed, and chimed in on this case is a whole other ballpark about society's minimization and lack of knowledge or respect for mental illness on its own.

THEN, there is a quote by Amy Price, the manager of the hotel during the incident, who is now profiting on a book she is writing about HER experience:

"I want to share my story," she says.

"But this isn't a horror story or anything like that. This is a story about struggle."

Okay, Amy. Whose fucking struggle are you writing about here? I legitimately don't know if she is referring to hers or Elisa's, but either way, it's gross.

It makes me so sad that this whole situation warranted MILLIONS of theories, millions of internet trolls writing articles about the "BIZARRE" death of this girl. This case is not fucking bizarre. It is unfortunate but it is not bizarre. This case was plastered all over internet lists with the titles "bizarre, unexplained cases of missing people." It's not unexplained, and it only was not for long.

These "web sleuths" were busy having a blast, going to the crime scene, smiling as they recorded, posting videos about their stupid theories. Trolls posting their dumb, far-fetched theories without knowing all of the facts, thinking they know better than the professionals, who DO have the findings, did do the labs, did do the investigations. And people still insist that THERE HAS TO BE MORE.

Of course, I don't know all the facts either. BUT, according to the actual professionals involved rather than the entire population of people who love a good "mystery," Elisa's toxicology results showed that her levels of the medications she was supposed to be on signified she had not been taking them as she should have been. They also found bottles of her medicine that had more pills than prescribed, also showing that she had not been taking them.

THEN, she was removed from the room she had been sharing with a few others due to "odd behavior" leaving weird post-its telling them to go away, or whatever. THEN, apparently going into the hotel lobby and screaming "I'm crazy!" or whatever it was.

Although all experiences with mental illnesses are unique, all of these details plus the footage, both detailing erratic behavior, leave no doubt in my mind that the professionals, SHOCKINGLY, CRAZILY, may be right! Who thunk it! I have legitimately acted in the ways described and shown in the video. I don't and couldn't understand HERS, but I understand MY paranoia, hallucinations, experiences I have had, and the actions that are presented, and I guarantee some would look very similar to that footage. Ask the few people who know me best what it's like when I'm not on my meds or fuck them up. I legitimately saw myself in her actions.

Yet, the internet losers had to fixate on a death metal artist who had stayed in the hotel for a few days A YEAR before any of this happened and legitimately ruined his life. His alibi was completely valid and he was dismissed by investigators. He was out of the country, he had tons of substantial paperwork and proof that he was, but that didn't matter.

Because no one takes bipolar disorder seriously, dismissing it as just mood swings, people being dramatic, seeking attention, being lazy, and everyone needs something more sensational, THIS wasn't even an option. They needed to fixate on crazy, fun conspiracy theories, watching the footage over and over and over again, sitting in their caves with their thumbs up their asses writing about their ballpark theories, internet bullying innocent people instead of doing any research on bipolar disorder, instead of defending or considering that it was a psychotic episode, which literally all of the official facts and footage present.

Clearly I'm not a professional either, but like... watch the show and you tell me. You tell me what you think is likely. You tell me what the professionals agree on. But before you make that call, try reading a little bit about bipolar disorder. Try reading about the psychotic episodes that can come with it. It probably won't change your mind, but oh well. It probably is just the hotel being haunted, ya know. Right? This is just my little rant that doesn't matter.

If you want to think it was a ghost, a demon, if it was a murder even though she literally had zero signs of any physical violence and there was zero evidence of it and all evidence the other way, you do that, boo. Have a blast. Hey, I 100% could be wrong, right? Absolutely. Who am I? Just a little dramatic, stupid, crazy nobody.

That's just my take, no better than any other internet trolls, I suppose. When all is said and done, in my little fantasy world, I guess people would just take bipolar disorder seriously and understand the severity of it. People would take it to consideration for the actions and words of those who have it. That's not fun, though. Everyone loves money, everyone loves a good story. Everyone loves making fun of people. Everyone loves a disability you can see. Everything I do is just me being an oddball. Everyone loves to be an internet bully.

I'm sorry for Elisa and her family who have had to deal with years of this. Years of people dismissing the severity of mental illness and obsessing over ghost stories, obsessing over the number of likes or views they get, money they make off of it.

Wow, that was a blast. I'm fairly confident no one will read this, but I feel a lot better that I put that out there. Again, I'm a little nobody, so nothing I say matters, but that's just my take on all of it. I've given up trying to convince anyone that I'm anything but weird, because I know no one will care or accept that. I'll just keep making people feel uncomfortable and keep looking like an idiot. Woe is me, am I right?

You have a blessed day now.

#mental health #mentalhealthmatters #bipolar disorder #bipolar 1 #fuck you netflix

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

13 fury and 29 leviathan, Ot4, nsfw, please!

I decided to split these up, so here’s Leviathan, and fury will be a separate fill! Indrid’s design is based on an oarfish, Duck on a grouper, Barclay on a whale shark, and Stern is a black and white snapper.

There are times Joseph wishes he was just a brain floating in seashell, not a mer with a body that needs things like food, sleep, and sex. The migration of the Leviathans is one such time.

Every five years, the larger creatures of the Marianas Trench travel upwards, for reasons that remain mysterious to even the deep sea mers. Five years ago, Joseph was ill. Five years before, his job was such that he was unable to take the few days needed to visit the migration sight and record his findings. Now that his chance has come, he’s not letting anything, be it the possibility of losing a limb if he gets too close to the giants or the sparse fishing near his camp stop him.

And he’s certainly not letting his heat stop him.

He’s chosen the optimal observation point, so when another mer swims into the view, he prays they won’t chase him off or make noise.

“Oh, apologies, I was not anticipating this timeline.” The merman is angular around the face, his tan body bookended with silver; his moonlight colored hair occasionally falls across glowing, red eyes, and his tail is longer than average, elegantly metallic and fanned with red. He strikes Joseph as formidable, so it’s a good thing that he seems friendly.

The new mer cocks his head, “You’re here to observe the migration.”

“I am. Um, are you?” It could be fun to have a fellow rare creature’s enthusiast to keep him company.

“No. I come here to draw, but I’m happy to share the space with you.”

“Thank you.”

They make small talk, during which the other mer introduces himself as Indrid, a seer for hire, and informs Joseph that the migration will start in the next ten minutes.

While his brain focuses on the task ahead, his heat creeps through his body. It’s not too bad, but he knows it will only get more intense as the day moves one. It’s mostly agitation right now, not the aches and tunnel vision that will come for him over the next three days. He’s not sure if he’s releasing any sort of scent signals, because the last thing he needs while trying to record the leviathans is someone pestering him.

Indrid looks up from his drawing, sets it carefully on a stone and swims a circle around Joseph, “Ah, I was not imagining things. You are giving off heat pheromones. And I thought I was prone to unlucky timing.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” Joseph grumbles.

“Of course not. I, ah, do not mean to worry you, but there are many futures where your research is interrupted by hopeful suitors.”

“Damn it.”

“If it would help, I could stay close and pretend to be your mate. You, ah, you would not need to actually be such, though I am not opposed to such things once you are done with your day.” His ears flick once, “the point is, my help is not contingent on sex.”

“That…that would be very helpful, thank you.” Indrid seems genuinely eager to help him, which set fondness squirming up his spine.

Indrid retrieves his supplies, curls the end of his tail around the black and white of Joseph’s own, and murmurs, “The first one should appear in under twenty-seconds.”

He’s right on the money, Joseph stifling a gasp of delight as the massive, bone-white body of a Ningen emerges. It’s pace is alarming fast for something so large.

Next is a creature he’s never so much as read of; serpentine and bioluminescent, with light lures fanned out across it’s forehead.

Movement to his left, another mer emerging from the nearby rocks with their eyes on him. Indrid waits a beat, then whips his head around to hiss at the newcomer, frilling his ears out as he does. They turn tail instantly.

“They didn’t even argue.” He’s impressed.

“I have a bit of a, ah, a reputation. It’s unearned, mind you, but sometimes it comes in handy.”

Joseph nods, turns his attention back to the trench just in time to see a Kraken fleeing from a pair of massive sharks.

He continues his observation with no interruptions, Indrid’s presence enough to deter the few mers who come to investigate him. His new acquaintance offers additional benefits; the physical contact soothes his heat to a degree, especially when pretends that this is all a prelude to that lovely tail wrapping around him while Indrid sinks his teeth into his shoulders.

Better still, during a lull in conversation he glances over to find Indrid has captured the leviathans on paper.

“It seemed to me your notes could use illustrations.” He says a moment before Joseph can ask.

“That’s, Indrid those are incredible, you didn’t need to set your own projects aside-“

“This is more fun than drawing the futures. And more rewarding.” He smiles at Joseph’s excitement.

It’s going on hour seven of observation that his body betrays him; his heat seeps into every nerve, his body twitching and squirming in it’s desire to swim off and get off as soon as possible.

“I foresee the migration lasting three more days. If you need to be done for the day, I do not think it will damage your research.”

“I…”

“However” Indrid says casually, “if you want to stay longer but are struggling to, I can always tell you that good mates can last a few hours more.”

“Shit” The part of his tail concealing his dick pulses, “Indrid, how did you know-“

“Foresight.” Indrid taps his temple, grinning wider.

“I, I think I can call it a night.” He repacks his observation kit, Indrid’s tail holding his all the while. Then he whirls, kissing him as the other mer lets out a muffled laugh.

“My, it must have gotten intense.” Indrid strokes his cheek, roving his eyes up and down his body.

“Very. I, I’m sorry, I’m not very good at spontaneity during my heats, so this might be awkward.” He tries to pet Indrid’s tail, only for his wrists to be caught in a strong hold.

“What do you usually do?”

“I, um, I pick out potential partners ahead of time. And if there aren’t any I’m interested in, I just hole up on my own until it’s over. Besides, it’s not just about who I want; what I want can be a bit of a surprise for most mers.”

Indrid leans close, purrs in his ear, “Am I right that you would call yourself, ah, needy pet?”

“Hollllyshit”

“Answer me.” There’s an edge to his lilt.

“Yes, I would, Indrid please-“

“Hush.” The mer begins swimming them towards the houses on the cliffs, “I have just the thing. You need all the attention you can get, more than I can give without passing out, but there is an easy solution.” He turns the conversation away from sex, asking Joseph about his work until they reach the entrance to a home in the rocks, the front of it sporting an impressive garden.

“’Drid, that you?” A voice calls as they swim down the hallway.

“Yes, my love. And I brought a guest.” They round the corner into a large kitchen. Seated at the table is a merman with short, dark hair, and a mottled green and brown fin. He sets the model ship he’s working on into a carved box, then propels himself with obvious, easy strength to capture Indrid in a kiss. It’s only when Indrid nudges him to turn his head that he sees Joseph.

“Oh, uh, name’s Duck, welcome to our place.” He holds out a hand, smile crooked and soft, the evening light falling around the curves of his body in a way that makes it impossible for Joseph to look anywhere else.

“It’s lovely.” He takes Duck’s hand, shaking it as Indrid explains how they met. Duck takes a polite interest in it, adding that he’s done restoration work on the scant plant life near the edge of the trench.

“Now, what I wanna know is if you invited him for the reason I think you did.” Duck sends a pointed look at Josephs tail, where silver and blue are starting to pulse in place of his usual colors.

“Yes. Assuming everyone is amenable to the idea. Speaking of which, where is, ah, nevermind, here he comes.”

“Hey Indrid, should I start dinner? Heard you say something about a guest—oh holy fuck.”

Joseph clamps his hands over his mouth to stifle the excited moan that tries to leap out.

“You two know each other?” Duck looks between them, then smirks, “hold on. Barclay, is this fella mr. tall, dark, and handsome you keep swoonin over?”

“I, uh, I” Barclay seems to be trying to hide behind his grey and black-speckled tail, “I didn’t know this is where you were going. When you said vacation I assumed, like, you’d go somewhere fancy. Not just a few miles out from the city.”

“If the guy behind me hadn’t been in such a rush to get his lunch, I could have told you more.” He swims forward, heat ebbing in the face of discovering where the mer he’s had a crush on for months lives (and that Indrid has managed to secure two of the most attractive mermen in the world as partners).

Before he can reach Barclay, he jerks to a stop. Duck has hold of the end of his tail, though from the sharp-toothed grin this tableau was Indrid’s idea.

“Am I correct” Indrid swims lazy circles around the other three, “that we are all in agreement that the best way for Joseph to manage his heat is for us to take turns helping him relieve the tension?”

“Yep”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes, now for gods sake let’s get to it.” He tries swimming forward, discovers Duck is even stronger than he looks, and lets out a frustrated, horny whine. Duck makes a sympathetic noise, rubbing his tail soothingly. Barclay decides to close the distance himself, only to freeze at Indrid’s voice.

“I believe you said something about dinner, dear one.”

“But-“ Barclay’s brown eyes send a pleading look at between Joseph and Indrid.

“You’ll get your turn, or several if the timelines are correct, but it won’t do for all of us to get caught up in the heat of the moment and forget to eat. Or for Joseph to burn through a great deal of energy and not replenish it. Besides, he clearly likes your cooking. You have a chance to show off.”

Barclay chuckles, “You’re a menace, sir.”

“You love me for it.”

“I do.” Barclay kisses Indrid as he drifts by, gives one more appreciative, longing look at Joseph, and turns back to the counter. Joseph’s back hits the table a split-second later, Indrid’s face and frilled-out ears filling his vision.

“Now, be a good little pet and let me fuck you.” Ink-smudged fingers expertly stroke his scales as his tail curves around him, trapping them together. The pressure of his touch and the sting of his teeth as they graze his collarbone make Joseph buck in his hold.

“IndridpleaseOHshit, shit” a cock slides into him, “that, that was fast.”

“I have been swimming in your desire for hours. It was only because you were so very engrossed in your work that I ohnnnn, I did not ask to do this sooner.” Indrid nibbles his ear, his tail rippling with effort as he fucks deeper, “you just seemed so happy.”

Joseph moans, wrapping his arms around Indrids shoulders, “That’s one of the most considerate things anyone’s done for me in months.”

“You deserve it, pet, just as much as you deserve to be fucked so much you’re too full to swim.”

“No, ahnnfuck, no wonder Barclay looks so content on Monday mornings, if this is how you treat your mates.”

Indrid trills, blushes, and then hides the fact by sinking his teeth into Joseph’s shoulder. The pain lights him up from tail-tip to the top of his head and he buries a kiss in Indrid’s neck. The tendrils of his cock, already wound around Indrid’s shaft, tighten as the other mer kisses along the bite mark.

“That’s it pet, go ahead and cum, you’ve been so patient, held out so long, you’ll feel so much better if you do.”

The fact that it’s the act of receiving permission that tips him over the edge is probably something to bring up with his therapist, but he’s not thinking about that now. Right now, his world is nothing more than blinding pleasure and his body screaming with relief that he’s finally getting off.

Indrid stays still as he rides it out, trilling softly as he kisses his cheeks. He waits until Joseph meets his eyes and nods before he begins rolling his hips, tail coiling and relaxing in time with his efforts.

“There we are, you can take a break pet, lay here and let me-AHhhnn” His measured thrusts morph into sharp jerks. Joseph’s cock perks up as knuckles graze it, and Duck’s chin rests on Indrid’s shoulder.

“Sorry, you know watchin you play all high and mighty turns me on. Especially when you’re fuckin such a handsome piece of tail.” Duck fingers open the lower part of the slit from which Indrid’s cock emerged.

“No complaAAIInts here” Indrid’s movements turn wilder by the moment and he cranes his neck backwards in search of kisses. Joseph would sit up so he and Duck could lavish him with them from both sides, but his muscles aren’t quite up to that yet.

There are two, high trills, one after the other as Duck bites the tip of Indrid’s ear and then the base of his neck. Indrid thrusts as deep as he can, cumming with satisfied chirps and moans as Duck sucks a bruise into his neck.

As Indrid pulls out, he rubs at the scales around Joseph’s cock in a way he’s never seen before, one that makes everything close up the instant his cock is all the way free. He raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It’s courteous to hold onto what a mate gives you” Indrid leans closer, adding, “I also suspect Barclay will enjoy it.”

Indrid helps Joseph sit up, clearly intending to guide him over to service Duck, but Joseph is miles ahead of him, darting out to wrap his arms around his middle and kiss his way from his chest to his belly.

“Y;know, Barclay made it sound like you were real reserved, shy even. Know heats can make folks a little wild, but this seems like a stretch.”

“It’s, it’s not the heat. It’s you. It’s this” He presses another kiss to his belly slides his hands down to grope his upper tail, “you’re, well, let’s just say I think Indrid has incredible taste. Your whole body is divine, Duck” he nips the sensitive band where scales give way to skin, “if someone told me you swam straight out of Poseidon’s Court, I’d believe them.”

“Fuck, are you always like this?” Duck looks at Barclay, who’s holding a spoon so tight it’s cracking.

“Nope.” The cooks voice is creeping higher as he watches Joseph lick and kiss at Duck’s tail.

Duck stills him with a hand in his hair, keeping his eyes on Barclay, “Do you, uh wanna switch? I can keep an eye on whatever you’re makin so you don’t gotta wait longer.”

“No, I, I wanna be good. I can be patient. But, uh, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Alright handsome, you can keep goinnnnfuck, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” Duck cups the back of his head, urging him on. Joseph understands why Indrid wasn’t thrown by his unconventional cock; Duck’s is the same, multiple short, hyper-sensitive tendrils emerging from a slit instead of a shaft.

To his delight Duck is vocal, moaning and groaning as he tells him how well he’s doing, how perfect he looks with a cock in his mouth.

“Oughta, oughta make you suck ‘Drid and Barclay at the same time, be so fuckin hot, think I could cum without even touchin myself ohfuck, yeah, do that again.”

The tendrils tickle when they glide over his tongue, harden when he curls his lips around a few and sucks.

“Enjoying yourself my love?”

“You know it, darling. Fuck, Joe, where the fuck did you learn to suck dick like this?”

He pulls back, winks, “Maybe if you take me out to dinner, I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale.”

“You got a date” Duck dips down to kiss him, then shoves him back into place, grinding his hips harder before cumming with a half-laugh, half-moan. He’s still shaking when he guides Joseph so they’re face to face and kisses him, whispering, “Thanks for that, handsome.”

He doesn’t have time to note that no one’s ever thanked him for blowing them before there’s a thunk of bowls on the nearby table.

“Dinner’s ready.” Barclays cock is visibly throbbing under his scales, but he lets Indrid lead him to a chair, set a bowl next to him, and whisper in his ear with a mischievous grin. The cook nods, and then Indrid is waving Joseph over.

“You really should eat, you barely had any lunch, but Barclay’s been patient. I recommend multitasking.” Indrid pecks their cheeks one after the other, then goes to sit in Duck’s lap.

Joseph lowers himself and rubs their tails together, “Dinner smells delicious.”

“It’s not the only thing.” Barclay rumbles, then shakes his head, “sorry, I’m super-responsive to other mers heats, we, we can just have dinner if you want, you don’t have to-“

“Barclay, you’ve been on my mind for months. I want to.” His tendrils don’t coax so much as demand Barclay’s cock enter him and they moan in tandem as Joseph settles into place.

“Here” Barclay holds up a piece of fresh crab and Joseph eats it from between his fingers. It’s perfect, just like every meal Barclay’s ever made him. He “mmmms” and opens his mouth for another, this time biting Barclays finger before taking it.

“Tall, dark, and handsome, huh?”

The cook blushes, “Yeah. You, gods you’re always so put-together, I’d say this was a dream come true by my brain can only fantasize about you, like, calling me up to your office and sucking you off. Never thought I’d see you heat-crazed and getting fucked by my boyfriend and one of my best friends. Also, it’s so fucking hot” he gives his first sharp thrust up, “to fuck Indrid’s cum back into you.”

“I told you so.” Indrid murmurs from behind them.

Joseph rocks his hips, kissing Barclay’s cheeks and stroking his beard, “Seeing you is the best part of my day; I, um, I even redid my budget so I could come get lunch more often. I almost asked if you wanted to help me with my heat but I, I was worried it’d be overstepping.”

“Nah. Not for my favorite customer.” Barclay kisses his nose.

“Does AHnnnshit,” Barclay’s cock is thick enough to catch all the tendrils, “does this mean I get a discount now?”

“Of course, ten percent off for every blowjob.”

“I’ll be eating for free in no time. Possibly the end, ohfuckyes, of this heat.” He stops, tries to correct, “that’s, um, that’s if you want to see me again after tonight.”

Barclay nuzzles his neck, “I do. Gonna take a wild guess and say those two do too. And in case you think I’m kidding…”

Joseph cums as Barclay bites the opposite shoulder from where Indrid’s mark is still red, the other mer growling as he pumps his hips up into him again and again, refusing to let go until his cum mixes with Indrid’s and Joseph’s shoulder sports a deep purple bruise.

“Holy shit.” Joseph collapses against his chest.

“Better, babe?” Barclay kisses the top of his head.

He looks over his shoulder at where Duck and Indrid are trading increasingly heated kisses.

“Yes, but I’m just getting started…”

Joseph wakes up in an empty bed, his last memory of Duck fucking him while he jacked Indrid and Barclay off, one in each hand.

Maybe they all have work? Maybe they’re hoping he’ll take a hint and leave…

“Mornin Joe” Duck floats in the bedroom doorway, “Barclay asked me to come get you. He’s almost finished packin breakfast up.”

“Oh,for, um, for me to take on the road?”

Duck shakes his head, “for all four of us; ‘Drid showed us drawins from yesterday and we decided we’d like to join you. If, uh, if that’s okay?”

Joseph swims over to take his hand, “it’s perfect.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #agent stern/barclay #sternclay #indrid cold/agent stern #duck newton/agent stern #mermay fills #mermay #indruck

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heknewwhoyoureallyare · 3 years

Text

Awwwwhhhhh damn Man, my shift is almost begun! I have to take care of my favorite shirt first before it got dirty. This is my only shirt, so I have to be extra careful about it!

Phew, so I guess It’s time for me to go to work. Hmmm, but where do I put this barrel too? Come on Man, think. I can do this!

Yes Mam, do you need anything? You seem to be a very wealthy and proper gal, Mam. I’m assuming that you’re from the Manhattan Upper East Side? What are you doing here? In this dirty part of the town? Its so gross out here, especially for someone as posh and as elegant as you are!

You say what? You’re looking for me?! For what? Any car problem Mam that I needs to fixed?

You’re thirsty? Oooohhh okay so I have to bring you some drink!

No? Then what do you want? Me again? For what?

Wait what?!

For Fucking?!

Mam, I just take an hour long ass break, and you came here, out of nowhere with your cute dimply smile, perfectly styled hair, natural no make up makeup look that every guy’s like, a beautiful hourglass body, and your revealing designer clothes, just so that You can fuck me? Right now???!!!

Damn It must be my lucky day. Ill have another long hour break session then, or maybe 2, or 3 and perhaps little Jimmy can help me cover for my shift once. That Fag always try to get into my pants by doing shit that I told him to do! I never give him the sexual satisfaction that he needs though, I’m only keeping him around just for fun. Because I’m sick bastard that way, Hahahahaha What can I say, I’m a straight man, I like teasing people especially faggot, ugly faggot who thinks they can get it with me.

The Stud then called Jimmy and ask him to cover his shift for him, when the little fag say why? He simply stated that if he doesn’t do what the stud told him to do. The stud wouldn’t talk to him anymore and there will be no more abs and dick photos for him in the future. Little Jimmy then quickly ran into the workshop and help the stud doing his job. Jimmy is busy doing all of the stud’s job, while The Stud is busy Banging a respectable, upstanding, sophisticated lady with high moral integrity in some shady back alley. He introduces her into the life of degradation, rape role-play, and debauchery. His face might look like an Angel, but he have some sick devilish thought in his mind, which can boost up his sexual creativity and he has the stamina and physical strength to matched with it. The girl has develop cock addiction because of him. After 6 hours of non stop super rough hot straight fucking session. One that can win the Avn awards if only someone would have recorded it. The Stud finally cum inside her pussy without any condom, any warnings, get up , dress up, and it’s about to leave.

Okay I’m done Mam. You can go Now! No I don’t like to cuddle! Especially with whores! I only save my cuddling for the good girl that is pure and chaste, and have a lot of self restraint and you are clearly are not.

A couple of days later. The girl keep stalking him. She even followed him to the beach one time. The Stud said “wtf I ain’t gonna fuck you again, filthy whores don’t get fuck and kisses twice, fuck off I don’t want to see your ugly whorish face again!

The woman keep begging and begging for him to fuck her again and The Stud simply reply “Fuck No, I don’t fuck with the same girl twice, that only happen if you are my girlfriend and I am not your boyfriend” “get your ugly nympho ass somewhere else, because this dick is highly exclusive. Not every Slut can have the privilege of feeling its powers over and over again. It’s just to magnificent for that shit!!!

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hongism · 3 years

Note

Okie you know i love moc but Everytime i re-read it i think of everything and new theories happen usually when you update i do re-read and i don't think im going to re-read everything maybe just a few a chapters but i pretty much remember a few things ?👉👈 im not feeling very good though so i dont know when ill get to it but be prepared for me to come back with new theories and stuff. By the way......I really love San's character the most. That's what i want in someone you know?

Im feeling better now (not sure if my other ask came through or not but-) i read the lastest chapter of MOC. I just wanna say that you out did yourself. Im starting not to like the Seonghwa acts towards y/n. Y/n had no control. Yes it was scary but it seems hongjoong may be scared of her and he might of told seonghwa that and he took it out on her because hongjoong did it for him. Its really upsetting. (Just a guess) BUT THE Y/N AND HONGJOONG MOMENTS i love it. San and Y/N moments im all for it. In the end.....whoever she ends up (weather its one of them or all) ill be happy. I....just have to say though for the record......i have many theories......and im willing to share them if you wanna hear them *goes an fangirls somewhere*

((yes i did get your first ask i just wasn’t super available yday to answer lots of asks unfortunately!! im here for a bit now heh :3)) i can’t imagine rereading at every update that must be a LOT considering it’s over 300k now! my memory is notoriously Awful so i can’t possibly remember much of anything even if it’s my own writing ajfoisjdofij but im glad you love san’s character sm! it makes me happy to hear that you guys enjoy my characters and the story itself!

as for the most recent chapter! im so flattered pls i’ve received more praise and encouragement than i thought imaginable on this update thank you so much ! its good that you are not liking how seonghwa is acting bc that’s a huge point in his character and im really trying to show how each one is flawed and not completely perfect and good in their own ways! as for why seonghwa reacted the way he did, as well as what hongjoong might have told him, we don’t necessarily know what that conversation was or how it went down! as of right now i’m not sure whether that’s something we’ll explore further or not or if we’ll just leave it as is! and the hongjoong and y/n moments, there indeed were many many of them and i had a lot of fun writing them but the san moments were by far my favorite thing to write in this chapter <33

by all means please do send any and all theories! i love reading theories and talking about them ((even if i can’t say much)) but im always open and welcome to theories of all sorts, i’d love to just have a theory night here to just talk about moc theories or where i just post them and can’t say anything about them 🤭

#mists of celeste #moc: spoilers

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bangtan-pugh-bug · 3 years

Text

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 3

I’m back at uni so writing this is comforting. I really hope you like this chapter - anyone who’s following this.

‘Plot’ : reader lives in Stark Tower with the Avengers slow burnnnn

Warnings: none 🌚 yetttt ... except swearing as always

FUUCK. You’d been ill for a week and just as you thought you were getting better in time for Clint’s birthday party you took a turn. Most of Stark Tower had helped you out in some way, whether it was Bruce trying to find a cure using his 7phds or Thor keeping you company by thrashing you at Mario Kart. As you always did when you got sick you were grumpier and even more indecisive. On Monday you didn’t let anyone visit you and chose the company of your pillow and the fly that wouldn’t leave your window sill over seeing anyone.

Scott had visited you with Nat and Tony but only alone once and of course you had been asleep that day. When you woke up you weren’t being watched, which was a good sign you weren’t getting sleeping with the enemied, and you felt slightly less like shit. Your throat didn’t feel as assaulted by food so naturally you searched your room for snacks on all fours. Standing still made you feel hot and woozy, as if the floor was miles away but touching you at the same time. Your head felt screwed on upside down whenever you tried to stand so crawling was an okay second choice. The carpet was rough against your soft hands and knees.

As you crossed the floor on all fours with your eyes on the galaxy bar Thor had left, the door opened. ‘Ton-‘

‘There’s something I’m missing isn’t there? So this makes sense?’

Scott.

You didn’t need to look up to know what face he was pulling but you did.

‘Standing hurts.’ Was the explanation you gave (making sure to lay on your ‘I’m sick’ voice for effect and possibly sympathy). Everything was beginning to piss you off. Your skin felt so hot. Your brain filled with fast images of volcanoes, fires and anything else you were apparently as hot as. The carpets existence was irritating. Against your bare knees it was starting to feel like itchy shards of rock. You just wanted to go to sleep. Scott was blankly looking at you, probably regretting entering the room at all.

‘Hmm?’

You mumbled something incoherently. The urge to act like a grumpy child because you felt sick was incredibly strong. It was the driving force keeping your eyes open.

‘Not that your mumbling isn’t charm-‘

‘I said I want to sleep!’ Your interruption came out as more of a yell than you intended. Scott widened his eyes before laughing ‘Okay you big baby.’ On a normal day that wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest but the needy, self pitying part of you was thriving off making itself sad and you did want to sleep. You really wanted to sleep. Scott walked backwards away from you until you realised you didn’t want him to leave. ‘Please don’t lea-‘

‘Ah! Y/N still feeling gross and generally... miserable and... well..not-good?’

Thor’s voice carried before you saw his enthusiast, slightly concerned, face pass Scott’s. Scott don’t leave. If you thought it loud enough maybe he’d stay. Wanda was so lucky, she could make people stop in their tracks to talk to them. Scott was sweet, he would have stayed if you had asked but you didn’t want to have to ask.

You decided it would be wise to stand up and you did. Slowly. If your grandmother could see you she’d think she was athletic kind of slow. It didn’t go unnoticed by your Asgardian friend. ‘Y/N?’ He frowned and closed your curtains making you sleepier. As you attempted to crawl into your bed which seemed to sigh at your return Thor asked if he should fetch Scott. Fetch Scott? Scott wasn’t a doctor?

‘Why?’

In a rare moment you and Thor were not on the same page and he knew it. The visible confusion in his face and the change from a powerful God like stance to an unsure one drove that home. He even tilted his head like the giant puppy he was and didn’t answer.

‘You can if you want but he left. I’m fine here, I’m gonna sleep.’

His face implied he knew something about you that you weren’t admitting to yourself. That wouldn’t fucking fly. ‘Thor,’ your voice became impatient as you shuffled under the covers. ‘If you’re not gonna bring me chocolate can I... jus-I-‘ but just like Scott he left. It was fine. You could finally try and lucid dream and get some rest.

You closed your eyes, despite it being 4pm, but of course trying to sleep was a criminal offence in Stark Tower because Scott’s hand was suddenly beside you. Even with your eyes almost fully closed you knew it was his hand. They were usually slightly dirty from repairing the Antman suits despite Hank’s advice against it (he wasn’t great at listening) and you’d wanted to hold them so many times you’d lost count.

You weren’t even sure if you could speak but Scott didn’t. For once the two of you were silent. No snarky remarks and no magic tricks or childish behaviour that made Stephen roll his eyes. It felt odd. The light that was managing to escape through the edges of the curtains barely reached Scott’s face. What you could see was the man on his knees beside your bed like you were in a hospital bed. As the thought was born you couldn’t help but wonder if Scott would be the person you’d want if something awful happened to you? Tony would take it personally, Thor would be hurt but he was becoming your favourite person somehow.

Did he expect you to speak? More than enough time had passed for him to comfortably speak but he stayed silent with you. It felt like something you shouldn’t discuss with anyone including Scott. It felt like the two of you were sitting in a sensory deprivation tank in the dark and your sleepiness was overwhelming. Your breathing became heavier as your eyes closed you heard Scott finally speak.

‘Goodnight Y/N.’

When you woke up you knew he’d be gone. It would be inappropriate for him to stay. Out of everyone in Stark Tower the closest you’d gotten to sleeping beside someone was with a very drunk and sad Wanda. But you’d really wanted him to stay. The light entered your window just as you let your brain become infected by thoughts about what that long silence could have meant? Had he wanted to grab your hand? You hated how high school and desperate he had unknowingly made you become. You needed to get your mind on other things.

After a week of sleeping for far too long and being made fun of by Tony and Clint your - whatever it was you were a medical mystery - had cleared up. Your master plan was to spend more time with the one person in Stark Tower who brought out your mature side. Who was an excellent distraction from torturing yourself over every Scott interaction you had.

‘Peter don’t chew with your fucking mouth open. It’s gross.’

You watched in disgust as Parker made every vile mouth noise a human could possibly make. In fact he’d probably surpassed a world record. Scott stopped buttering his toast just to gasp in ‘horror.’

‘Y/N! You can’t swear at the kid. It’s like swearing at a little bird!’

Stephen scoffed. The ‘sexy uptight magician’ ,as Tony had lovingly dubbed, had no patience for most conversations. Especially ones that didn’t involve him or how excellent he was at everything.

‘All I did was eat toast!’ The baby retorted and you almost felt bad for him. ‘You’re so mean.’

‘The fact that you two are only 2 years apart is shocking.’ You tried not to let Scott’s comment get to you but you felt smugger by the second.

‘Frightening.’ Tony added before smiling at Peter, like exhausted fathers do at their complaining kids. You smirked in Peters direction who scowled at you as if to say you’re not as grown up as you think you are. You finished your toast, listened to Tony and Stephen bicker effortlessly and watched Scott. He always ate while watching people like he was David Attenborough or someone in a documentary. Instead of ‘Blue Planet’ the title would be ‘Superhero’s and why you shouldn’t live with them’. He always ate stood up. He always leaned back onto the kitchen top and made it look casual instead of an effort to look sexy (which you suspected it was). He always left some food on his plate because it went cold while he was distracted and he often caught your eye when someone was being entertaining.

‘Atleast I know how to dress myself...Stark.’

You hadn’t been paying attention to their petty argument but Scott’s eyes locked onto yours. Amused and then a look of realisation hit him. ‘Y/N I haven’t even asked how you are!’ He crossed the kitchen towards you and Stephen and Tony shut up.

‘I’m fine.’ You laughed and raised your eyebrows at Tony, who was watching you and Scott like a snake. He was standing behind you, the scent of overheated electric wires and warmth reaching you. ‘Stopped sleeping for 13 hours,’ if no one played their cards right you would start rambling about your ‘health’ for an hour just to fill the quiet. Peter was distracted on his phone.

Without any hesitation Scott’s large but boiling hands reached your face. You leaned back so you were directly looking up at him. He was glowing with pride at his actions. ‘For fucks sake!’ You squirmed away from his hands. ‘Why are they boiling? Jeeeez!’ Of course he laughed at your overreaction but they really had felt like hot pokers on your already warm cheeks.

‘You didn’t need warming up?’ He asked quietly, sensing he was on thin ice, but knowing the answer. Tony laughed but Stephen seemed deep in thought and somewhere else. You knew how that felt.

‘You’re worse than Tony.’

With every ‘angry’ remark at Scott you felt yourself making everything safer. It was easy to argue with him like he was Tony irritating you or even like Peter. That silence the week before had not been safe. Sitting with him on the roof hadn’t been safe either.

Despite your anger, that maybe he just saw right through as the opposite, Scott stayed stood behind you. His fingers started to gently run through your hair and a loud exhale of breath left your chest. You wanted to sink into his touch like a needy cat. No one ever played with your hair and it would have felt comforting if it had been anyone but having it be Scott..

Peter started rambling which brought Stephen out of his head and back down to Earth to interrupt him. Tony, however, had his eyes locked on Scott’s fingers playing with your hair. He gave you a knowing look and you mentally shunned him. You didn’t want him in your head right then and there.

‘How can you agree with him?!’

Scott seemed to be listening to Peter and Stephen’s discussion but you couldn’t care less. His hand brushed down your neck and settled onto your shoulder. You suddenly felt tiny, sat in Tony’s egotistical table chair with Scott looming behind you. ‘What do you think Y/N?’ Shit. Did he know you hadn’t been paying any attention? Was he testing what effect his touch had on you? What a thought.

‘I think...’ you suddenly sat up so Scott’s hands had nowhere to go. The last thing you wanted was Tony deciding to point out Scott’s touchy feely behaviour in front of everyone. ‘That I want to see if there’s any Ben and Jerries left.’ What a save.

‘There’s not.’ Peter shrugged returning your his phone. The little shit.

‘Here we go.’ Tony and Scott chuckled because they knew what was coming.

Taglist: @supraveng

#marvel #marvel fandom #scott lang x reader #scott lang fluff #scott lang #avengers x reader #tony stark #paul rudd #slow burn

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prorevenge · 3 years

Text

Mess with minors and my job? Lose your job and your boyfriend.

Tl;dr at the end because this is a doozy.

Alright circa 2014 I worked for a large movie theatre chain in a small Midwestern city. Job was pretty awesome outside of the shit pay and essentially no way to move up. I like to think I am good at my job and I try my hardest no matter where I work. In this particular situation I was one the most tenured employees at the theatre save for two other folks who had worked there part time on the side, and had full time jobs elsewhere.

So for the sake of this story I need to tell you about Jane (not actual name). Jane started working for the theatre 2 months before me. They worked elsewhere as a supervisor and was looking to move up at the theatre. Right after I started one of the managers left to work at a different theatre and the supervisor moved up. We had two managers, one general manager (basically the highest level at the theatre), and a supervisor which is a manager in training. (This is important.) Jane somehow got the supervisor position even though there was another person who essentially was promised the position due to their continued service at the theatre for almost 8 years. There were rumors about Jane sleeping with the GM when she started and this situation got them going again. I didn’t care too much because why would I, I am but a lowly peon in the corporate machine. Anyways Jane moved up and the tenured crew member left the company because they got screwed over.

Once Jane moved up we had a whole meeting about her moving up and how the theatre focuses on professionalism and ensuring no favoritism was happening. Specifically referencing how normal crew members shouldn’t fraternize outside of work with management.

Jane didn’t really listen to that though. She continued to hang out with the crew members who were mostly underage and would do various things like go drinking with minors, taking them to bars and buying them drinks or simply buying alcohol at a store and letting them drink at her house, I honestly have no issue with the drinking at home deal, just adding context, as well smoke weed with them and post pictures on Instagram. Oh yeah I forgot to mention Jane had a secret Instagram where they would post pictures of themselves with their friends from the theatre. They chose Instagram because none of their family or their boyfriend used Instagram and no one would know right?

Even more damning was her relationship with a 19 year old that worked at the theatre. She had a boyfriend who had been with her for years and honestly supported her for all intensive purposes. Not only did she have a 19 year old side piece, but also was messing around with a 17 year old. I even caught them messing around in the break room one time. She essentially threatened me with my job if I told anyone. Honestly she could’ve just told me to please be quiet and I would have just judged her silently.

Fast forward about a year or so and another one of the managers left for a new job. Jane obviously moved up and someone else took the supervisor position. Now I won’t go into too much detail, but despite my tenure and performance I was looked over for the promotion. A newer crew member who was really good friends with Jane got the position over me. This was confirmed by the other manager who let me know that Jane was definitely in good with the GM, who ultimately made the final decision. That being said I was beginning to sour and making minimum wage for years at a job that couldn’t give a shit about my efforts and continued performance. That being said I was preparing for an exit.

Before I get into my exit, it is important to note that Jane had and most likely still has a problem with me. I have talked about some issues I had with her, but I never escalated or even confronted her about anything she did to me up to this point. I honestly left it be. But I didn’t like her and the fact I didn’t like her or play along with her bullshit infuriated her. So much to the point where she made my life hell at the theatre. When she was a supervisor she didn’t have much power but when she became manager she began giving me shit shifts, convincing people that I was weird and to avoid me (I mean I am weird but not like avoid me weird), threatening me physically, threatening my job, her and her gang of misfit assholes also slashed my tires (I have no solid proof, but my car was parked in the employee lot and ya know only employees can get in), beyond that she also made fun of my girlfriend (my now wife) for having an invisible illness (MS), she would make her life hell because she had a disability and had some minor limitations. Add together all of this, plus my GF went off to college, plus getting looked over for the promotion, suffice it to say I found a new job.

I had a few close friends at the theatre including my now wife who I met while working there (silver lining right.) I had let a few of them know about the new job, but told them to keep it on the DL since it was still two weeks away. I had put my two weeks in with the GM and asked that he also keep it on the DL since Jane and her posse would fuck with me. I told him that I wanted to tell everyone myself so it kept him quiet.

Now the important thing about my new job is that it essentially paid me double my wages from the theatre. All of my friends were stoked for me, I was taking a job that would also have me making more than the managers at the theatre but also a job that put me on a better track in life. That being said with Jane and I butting heads on multiple occasions and her track record of messing with me, she decided to get one last attack on me. She started a rumor that I was just going to call out on all of my shifts the two weeks before my new job started.

With her last act of revenge in motion, the GM approached me and let me know that he wouldn’t be scheduling me the last two weeks. I tried to explain to him that the rumors were bullshit that I needed to work because it would be my only source of income. I told him that Jane started the rumor and I started to tell him all of the other stuff as well. He of course didn’t believe me and told me that Jane wouldn’t do what I was saying she would do. So it was her word vs mine. I contacted my new job who let me know that my start date was firm and that their budget wouldn’t allow me to start until two weeks later as originally planned. Now here I am essentially jobless for two weeks. Now I was upset, but I was also lucky. I was still living with family and didn’t have to pay rent, so I sucked it up and essentially told myself that I would just take a forced two week vacation. But Jane didn’t stop there. She escalated again by having one of her cronies call my new job and tell them that I got fired. I was luckily able to talk down my new boss by letting him know that this wasn’t the case that I put my two weeks in and everything else, but that was the last straw.

I left my last day at the theatre and while it was sad and I was upset that I wouldn’t be able to work out the last two weeks of my job that I had for years, I was focused and determined on revenge. Rule #1 of living a secret life and having a secret Instagram is not add every body and their mother to the page. I had a friend of a friend who also didn’t care for Jane let’s call them Joe. Joe and I had gone to high school together and briefly worked at the theatre together. He and Jane were part of the same group at the theatre until they had a small falling out. Nothing crazy but he wasn’t exactly happy with her. I talked to Joe and we discussed my issues with Jane over some lunch that I bought for him. (Food is the key to all revenge plots.) Once we ate and discussed my problems with Jane I asked for his help. I needed access to her Instagram. Ya know the secret one, showing her hanging out with underage employees, drinking alcohol and smoking weed with them, and also some mushy posts about her 19 year old boyfriend, as well as some moderately racy photos with her 17 year old fling. With very little discussion he gave me full access.

I took screenshots of essentially everything. We are talking 2-3 years worth of illicit and moderately illegal activity. More than enough to get her fired and to raise some questions in her relationship. I took the screenshots and I printed them on the most high quality paper/material that CVS had to offer. I also copied them too a few flash drives for good measure. I purchased two yellow padded envelopes (can never be too safe), and I filled them both with copies of all of the posts as well as a flash drive with additional copies. As well I included a note in each one for the appropriate parties.

One of the envelopes was taped to the back door of the theatre. There was somewhat of a blind spot so pulled into the parking lot from the rear and snuck around the corner mission impossible style to tape the envelope to the back door. On it was the GM’s name, as well in the letter I merely stated that one of their managers had a secret Instagram with a lot of damning evidence of not only favoritism, but also fraternizing with underage employees amongst other wrong doings. In the letter I also requested her immediate termination or the information would be provided to the district manager as well as our corporate office. I made sure to put it somewhere the GM would see on his morning sweep when he opened the theatre. The second folder and letter was delivered to her home by Joe. Joe agreed to this as I knew Jane’s schedule and had a good idea of when she would be gone and he knew where she lived from previous hang outs.

With both folders delivered it was only a matter of time. Before I knew it I was receiving death threats from Jane’s gang. All of them saying that they knew it was me and that Jane was going to come after me, that she never did anything to deserve this. It didn’t matter to me of course, I no longer worked there and would hopefully never have to deal with them again. From what I heard she was taken into the main office of the theatre and the GM let her have it. He ultimately had to fire her because there was very clear proof that she was in direct violation of many of the rules and conditions of her employment. As well her boyfriend with proof in hand kicked her out of his home.

Last I heard she moved farther north and hasn’t held down a solid job since. Her family didn’t want much to do with her once everything came out with her cheating on her boyfriend. Also the part about fooling around with a 17 year old tends not to sit well. In the end I started my new job without fail and moved on from that place. Haven’t see much of anyone from there since.

Tl;dr: Manager makes my life hell, continues to hang out and fool around with underage crew members, lives to regret it. Enjoy losing your job and your boyfriend.

(source) story by (/u/Ike09161995)

#prorevenge #by /u/Ike09161995 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

Text

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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