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babytsum · 4 years

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wanna be - m. atsumu

friends to lovers atsumu fluff because i said so.

warnings: none, just unedited so might be a lil sloppy lol, mention of konoha x reader (they go on like one date)

word count: 3.5k

wanna be by the internet (2018)

he remembers you from onigiri miya.

your baggy jeans, loose t shirt, eyebags. he remembers it all down to the way you stuffed your face with onigiris to the neon lights the shined outside. you were pretty, but he was indifferent. after all, he was miya atsumu, a player both on and off the court.

to you, he was miya atsumu, osamu's brother. and miya osamu was simply a friend who owned a restaurant and understood the crushing pressure of being a student with a part time job that struggled to pay rent. besides, one day you'd pay him back because you were one smart cookie, though he didn't know in what way. however, he did notice how atsumu made an effort to avoid eye contact while you introduced yourself. he didn't miss the color that made its way to his cheeks when you held your hand out for him to shake.

and he sees you again waiting outside his team's gym after practice.

that day, your hair was tied back. you wore a long coat that went down to your calves and loose black clothing under it. did you always wear loose clothes? you smiled and waved in his direction and his heart skipped a beat. he waved back excitedly until he turned around and saw hinata jumping up and down at the sight of your happy self. turns out, you were karasuno's manager in high school. atsumu, usually confident and cheerful, now sunk into his sweater while his teammate introduced you to the rest of the group.

"i know atsumu. i met him at onigiri miya a few weeks ago."

he nodded as you spoke. he barely knew you, but your presence had a significant effect on him, one that was beyond what he can describe.

so maybe he goes over to his brother's restaurant more, once or twice a week.

"so, how do you know hinata?" stupid question. hinata literally told everyone like a week ago.

"i went to karasuno and became the team manager for their volleyball team," you answered anyways, how sweet of you, "i actually got to see you and osamu play at nationals. that's where i first met him."

all of the sudden, atsumu wishes that he paid more attention to the pretty managers of the opposing teams. although, he does thank whatever higher power is out there that he got to meet you at some point and curses osamu for not telling him about you at all.

"i didn't know you knew (y/n) in high school."

"what do you mean?"

"i just didn't know that she was a team manager and all that, you know? i feel kind of bad for not knowing she existed."

"oh she definitely existed. who do you think i made extra bento boxes for when we went to tokyo?"

"those weren't mine?"

hinata invites you to watch him practice and he doesn't know if its a curse or a blessing.

on the one hand, you can see all of his talented sets and gameplay. on the other, he usually reached peak idiot during practices, at least that's what sakusa would tell him.

that's not going to stop you from sitting down and letting out a cheer for hinata's, and even bokuto's, spikes. you knew that shoyo and kotaro loved the support they got. it gave them motivation, made them perform better. of course, the team wouldn't mind that.

atsumu just wishes he got a few cheers or smiles from you.

the next time you see him, he's sucking face with some hot model with a drink in hand at a party that shoyo brought you to. you weren't surprised. you were close enough to osamu to hear him rant about his brothers antics, so you brush it off like usual when seeing two people getting a little busy. after all, you were here to take a break from studying

by the middle of the party, you're tipsy and cheering on bokuto who was shaking ass to hot girl summer. hinata is passed out on the couch in a fetal position while kageyama sits down and stuffs his face with rice. osamu joins him and witnesses the mess that is you and bokuto. atsumu looks disheveled and everyone already knows why, all of you just hope that the room he went to earlier was not the master bedroom.

"tsumuuuuu," you slurred as you spoke, a happy smile plastered on your face, "you're a manwhoreeeeee."

"what?"

"i'm joking, but also not," you kissed the tip of his nose, "you're a very nice boy."

he didn't know whether to be offended or flustered, especially with the combination of your little antics and the alcohol in his system, which only resulted in a strong of incoherent words that entertained osamu.

"man, i really wish you met her in high school. she was way worse." kageyama added, memories of you blatantly flirting with your close friends for fun.

"she really was. i believe the first thing she ever said to suna was 'holy fuck, how do you look so fucking hot while shoving those jelly sticks in your mouth?'" osamu laughed, the image of his teammate's red face playing in his mind, "the (y/n) you know is more tame, a stressed college student with a low alcohol tolerance."

you gave bokuto's ass another smack as you giggled at the way his ass jiggled. having athletic friends is fun, especially when the stress from your graduate studies needs to be relieved and their pro player money literally prevents you from paying for your own food. you were lucky.

the day after, you drive to the gym you knew they would be practicing at. of course, sakusa had the common sense to not drink the night before practice. his other three teammates did not.

atsumu is the first one to spot you, a big bag in hand, your hair tied back, another pair of loose jeans and a plain t shirt. it's more different from the flattering plants and small top you wore last night, but he wonders how you can look like this after a night of drunken fun. it was almost like you were glowing.

hinata greeted you first, taking your bag and thanking you for the food.

"are your heads okay?"

"i think i died last night."

"you die every time there's alcohol at a party, shoyo."

"hey!"

sakusa snickered while the rest tried their best to hide their laughs. you weren't wrong, though. shoyo does end up passing out on someone's couch after some energetic dancing.

"what about you, tsumu?"

"i don't remember anything that happened except for bo's ass."

"not even the hot blonde girl?"

"the what?" again, everyone failed to contain their laughs.

"you manwhore!" you chuckled, handing him his bento box.

"you should have seen how red he got when you kissed his nose!" bokuto chimed in.

"i did that?" your smile faded, "sorry, if i made you uncomfortable, tsumu."

"it's okay, i don't remember it." he lied.

the memory replayed in his mind again and a foreign feeling came over him. it was warm.

the next time he sees you, you're at osamu's house to taste test his new food. it's osamu's classic duo, his dear brother that loves to freeload off of him and his stressed grad student friend who also likes free food.

when atsumu walks in, you motion for him to sit next to you while stuffing your face. you're wearing baggy clothes again and he's pretty sure that you slept with your makeup still on from the night before.

"osamu, if you keep cooking like this, i think i might marry you."

"gross."

"what's gross about marrying the hotter twin?" you turned to atsumu, a smirk on your face.

"we look exactly alike."

"yeah, but he cooks."

atsumu couldn't argue with that. you were funny. you were always funny and warm even when talking down to him like this. and it made his heart beat faster, his face a little redder, his smile a little brighter.

fuck.

"i can cook."

"yeah, a pack of cup noodles." osamu responded while you chuckled in agreement.

"they're some fire ass cup noodles."

"yeah okay, playboy."

"playboy?"

"do you prefer manwhore?"

"no."

you throw your head back, laughing again at atsumu's expression. for someone who fucks around, he was easy to fluster. and you enjoyed it every time. the way he would look down in an attempt to hide his crimson cheeks, the slight smile that would rest in his face. he was pretty.

it all confirmed osamu's suspicions.

"you guys want to make every sunday a taste test day?"

"yes!" you responded excitedly. more free food? you're there.

"sure."

after osamu packed up some food for the two of you, both of you walked out. the early afternoon sun was scorching and your baggy jeans and oversized hoodie were not helping.

"you wanna get some coffee? i'll pay."

"what are you doing? trying to woo me or something, manwhore?"

"you look like shit and i think it's because you're tired."

"fair. but you have to drive me home first. i need to change and i do not want to walk to the bus stop."

"you didn't drive here?"

"i wanted to take a nap on public transport, sue me."

after a ten minute drive filled with food critiques, you finally made it to your house, quickly changing into some shorts and a t shirt that was actually your size. your raccoon eyes were fixed and you were back in atsumu's car in no time.

"i had no idea you existed up until a few weeks ago."

"nice way to start a conversation, tsumu."

"sorry-"

"you know, when i was karasuno's manager, i thought you were terrifying."

"how?"

"it was after one of your serves, you had this scary look on your face, but i forgot what you were looking at. you scored an ace, though."

"the fangirls."

"huh?"

"it was those squealin pigs that almost messed it up. i remember."

"you call your fangirls pigs?" you scoffed, "you're a whole manwhore." "yeah whatever, (y/n)."

you both went on to reminisce about high school memories, him mostly talking volleyball while you talked about shoyo and tobio being absolute dumbasses. he was interesting, really. his voice was smooth and his tone was always lively, always showing some emotion.

the cafe was mostly empty, a few people scattered around. the bitter taste of coffee met your lips as you hummed with delight.

"what are you looking at?"

"how are you drinking that shit? didn't you order extra espresso shots?"

"yeah, and? i see a ridiculous amount of condensed milk in yours, but i'm not saying anything."

"whatever." he chuckled.

everything was natural, both easing into friendly teasing comfortably. there was always some sort of glint in his eyes, a sly smile whenever he wasn't talking, reddened cheeks whenever you caught him staring.

being friends with miya atsumu was easy.

every sunday was easy. talking to him was easy. thinking about him was easy. a little too easy. and summer becomes fall. and fall becomes winter. and every sunday, there's a new source of energy you find despite your sleep deprived state.

"bo's sending me on a blind date." you tell the twins excitedly.

it's been awhile since you've gone on a proper date. you really haven't had the time for anything except for fooling around at a party once in a while. even if it went nowhere, at least you had something to distract you from the blonde manwhore who's constantly on your mind.

"oh, really?" osamu grinned, "i would have gone a date with you."

"liar. we both remember what happened while you were in school."

"yuck."

atsumu looked between the two of you, the gears turning in his head until it finally clicked.

"you guys went on a date?"

"sadly, yes," you chuckled, "we became closer friends, but that was not the move."

"agreed."

atsumu had already accepted that he had feelings for you. which he suppressed out of embarrassment. he had already accepted that you would have rejected him anyways. you called him a manwhore after all.

"when is it?" he finally asked, jaw clenching. his harsh tone wasn't intentional, but it was there nonetheless.

"next saturday. i'll tell you two about it when we taste test, again."

"you wanna get some milk tea after?"

"no. i have to buy a dress."

"oh."

atsumu watched you walk out the door, a cheerful smile on your face. he felt sick.

and when next sunday comes, you're an hour late.

you looked like you were up all night studying for exams. he recognizes the smudged mascara, the eyebags, the messy hair. except instead of your usual baggy clothes, it's a dress that loosely hugs your figure. he doesn't miss the way your nipples peaked through or the marks on your neck. nasty.

"samu, i'm gonna need more food than usual."

"you got it boss."

the sounds of the kitchen fill the room as you lay your head down. you turn to atsumu, eyes droopy and exhausted.

"you look like you had fun. who did bo hook you up with?"

"his name's konoha. he played for fukurodani back in high school. bo's such a sneaky lil shit."

"how?"

"i may have had a small crush on him in high school when i saw him at a training camp. i told bo and he probably remembered it and thought it was funny."

"nice," he replied, running his fingers through your hair, "are you guys going on another date?"

you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his touch, "i don't think so. it was fun, but i don't think i like him that much anymore."

"ah."

he internally celebrated while osamu rolled his eyes.

and winter turns to spring in atsumu's apartment.

soft white walls, light brown cabinets, a fridge filled with his brother's food. a few photo frames hung around, the most notable once being a photo of osamu stuffing his face when they were kids. the best part was that osamu hated that photo, yet it was also the centerpiece of his table.

you set down the vase of flowers that you were asked to bring. something about making the party feel more "springy" or whatever atsumu said. you were expecting a nice apartment, atsumu was a pro volleyball player of course. but you weren't expecting it to be this nice.

it almost makes you sad. the fact you were constantly exhausted, studying, and stressed while atsumu was the same age having fun and being a playboy. god, this kind of sucks. why the hell was this man friends with you anyways?

"your dress looks so cute!" always count on shoyo to immediately make you feel better.

"you look good even in your big jeans, but you look even cooler?" bo added on, making your cheeks heat up.

while you and sakusa exchanged a small wave, atsumu came out of his room. an unbuttoned short sleeve, white shirt underneath, jeans. wow. god. fuck. and seeing you in the pink dress that flowed around your body, the sleeves being a little puffed, the same train of thoughts ran through his head.

"you needed help setting up?"

"uhm, yeah. can you guys get the plates out and shit?"

"you want us to shit on the plates?"

"shoyo-" you cackled at the confused tangerine headed boy.

it's a good thing you figured it all out before the guests arrived.

seeing kuroo and kenma after so long was refreshing. and the fact akaashi also had a caffeine addiction was comforting. and yachi? she was so grown now. your conversation with the two was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

"hey, stranger."

"konoha?"

you gave him a short hug. both of you caught up on the last few months, the situation being less awkward than you expected. it's not like he was trying to get in your pants again, what was the harm in talking? there's nothing wrong with two tired college students having a conversation, right?

suna's voice became distant to atsumu as he observed the blonde across the room. should he go there and save you? his question was quickly answered when you greeted the man with a hug.

"dude? can you hear me?" suna waved his hand in front of his face.

"don't mind he's just being a simp." osamu responded, a smirk on his face.

"am not!"

"for who?"

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"that cute manager from karasuno?"

"yep."

"you go, dude!" suna patted him on the back.

"i don't like her like that, we're just friends."

"why is your face red?"

"it's not red!"

"ooo! is atsumu afraid of (y/n)'s cooties?"

"suna, we're twenty three."

"and you act like you're sixteen with this lil crush, atsumu."

atsumu sighed in response. it was too late. you were going to go home with konoha, or maybe you two would go to his many spare rooms. and you would go on another date. fall in love with him. marry him. have his kids.

"she calls me a manwhore a lot."

"she's not wrong."

"aren't you two supposed to be supportive?"

"no." they both said in unison.

"look just offer to give her a house tour or something," suna advised nonchalantly, "works every time."

"good idea."

feeling a presence behind you, you turned around only to be met with a scary looking blonde towering over you. konoha kissed your cheek and bid you a farewell once he realized another figure grabbing your attention.

"house tour?"

"thought you'd never ask, manwhore."

after a tour of a guest room, a bathroom, and a washing machine, the two of you finally made it to his master bedroom. of course, the pillows on his bed were thrown around and there were a few shirts thrown on the floor.

"i may have forgotten to, uh, put those away."

"how are you gonna give me a house tour and forget to clean your house."

"i remembered to fold my blanket!"

"you don't fold your blanket when you wake up? do you even make your bed in the morning?"

"shut up."

you chuckled as he looked away, a poor attempt to hide his face. judging by the mess of clothing, the setter probably had no idea what to wear for his party. the one that was being hosted by him, in his own apartment, right now.

"i see you had a little fashion show this morning."

"i didn't know what to wear!"

"you're the host!"

"what if i looked bad?"

"who cares?"

he looked at you, a confused expression on his face. his eyebrows were furrowed, mouth slightly parted open. your eyes landed on his lips before you immediately turned away. you couldn't get distracted, but he looked so pretty. instead, you sat down on the bed, finding a pillow to rest your head against.

"if it makes you feel better, you look really nice today, tsumu."

"i did it! you finally didn't call me a manwhore!"

"you're still a manwhore."

he pouted while you threw your head back in laughter once again. atsumu took this as an opportunity to sit next to you on his bed, readjusting your head onto his lap. you looked up at his face, eyes boring deep into yours.

"what are you thinking about?"

"you."

"do i have something on my face?"

"no."

his fingers made its way onto your scalp, slowly massaging your head. a moan left your lips at the satisfying feeling. the past few weeks have only stressed you out, but atsumu's presence cushioned you when necessary.

"how's konoha?"

"he's okay, i'd honestly become friends with him if he wanted to."

"didn't he give you a kiss?"

"it was just a cheek kiss."

"you wouldn't mind if i gave you one, right?"

"who cares? i think everyone should give their homies a kiss."

and with that, his lips met yours. his were soft and warm, and though you were caught by surprised, you kissed back. you two melded together until you sat back up.

"i meant a cheek kiss, but whatever."

"you kissed back!"

"no, i didn't."

"did to."

"i don't want your cooties."

"are you five?"

you rolled your eyes, laying back down on the bed. he ended up giving you a kiss on the cheek, then slowly traveled to your ear, then your neck, then dangerously close to your chest. he laid down next to you, arms around your waist, head resting on the crook of your neck. you acted as if you were indifferent, but of course your cheeks still heated up and your heart was beating faster than usual.

"do you wanna be my girl?"

"no."

"rude."

he chuckled into your neck while you grinned, turning your head to look at the pretty setter. it only resulted in more kisses on your face which you happily received.

"is osamu still single?"

"don't even joke about that."

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lilydalexf · 4 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Syntax6

Syntax6 has 17 stories at Gossamer, but you should visit her website for the complete collection of her fics and to see the cover art that comes with many of the stories (and to find her pro writing!). She's written some of the most beloved casefiles in the fandom. I've recced literally all of them here before. Twice. Big thanks to Syntax6 for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m delighted but not surprised because I’ve written and read fanfic for shows even older than XF. Also, I joined the XF fandom relatively late, at the end of 1999, so there were already hundreds of “classic” fics out there, stories that were theoretically superseded or dated by canon developments that came after them, but which nonetheless remained compelling in their own right. That is the beauty of fanfic: it is inspired by its original creators but not bound by them. It’s a world of “what if” and each story gets to run in a new direction, irrespective of the canon and all the other stories spinning off in their own universes. In this way, fanfic becomes almost timeless.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

(I feel these are similar, at least for me, so I will combine them here.)

First and foremost, I found friends. There was a table full of XF fanfic writers at my wedding. Bugs was my maid of honor. I still talk to someone from XF fandom pretty much every day. Lysandra, Maybe Amanda, Michelle Kiefer, bugs…these are just some of the people who’ve been part of my life for half my existence now. Sometimes I get to have dinner with Audrey Roget or Anjou or MCA. Deb Wells and Sarah Ellen Parsons are part of my pro fic beta team. I have a similar list from the Hunter fandom, terrific people who have enriched my life in numerous ways and I am honored to count as friends.

Second, I learned a lot about writing during my years in XF fandom. I grew up there. Part of this growth experience was simply due to practice. I wrote about 1.2 million words of XF fanfic, which is the equivalent of 15 novels. I made mistakes and learned from them. But another essential part of learning is absorbing different kinds of well-told tales, and XF had these in spades. Some stories were funny. Others were lyrical. Some were short pieces with nary a word wasted while others were sprawling epics that took you on an adventure. The neat thing about XF is that it has space for many different kinds of stories, from hard-core sci-fi to historical romance. You can watch other authors executing these varied pieces and learn from them. You can form critique groups and ask for betas and get direct feedback on how to improve. It’s collaborative and fun, and this can’t be underestimated, generally supportive. The underlying shared love of the original product means that everyone comes into your work predisposed to enjoy it. I am grateful for all the encouragement and the critiques I received over my years in fandom.

Finally, I think a valuable lesson for writers that you can find in fandom, but not in your local author critique group, is how to handle yourself when your work goes public. Not everyone is going to like your work and they will make sure you know it. Some people will like it maybe too much, to the point where they cross boundaries. Learning to disengage yourself from public reaction to your work is a difficult but crucial aspect of being a writer. You control the story. You can’t control reaction to it. It’s frustrating at first, perhaps, but in the end, it’s freeing.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I participated in ATXC, the Haven message boards, and the Scullyfic mailing list/news group. For a number of years, I also ran a fic discussion group with bugs called The Why Incision.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I started reading XF fanfic before I began watching the show. I had watched one season two episode (Soft Light) and then seen bits and pieces of a few others from season four. I’d seen Fight the Future. Basically, I’d seen enough to know which one was Mulder and which one was Scully, and which one believed in aliens. An acquaintance linked me to a rec site for XF fanfic (Gertie’s, maybe?) so that I could see how fic was formatted for the web. I clicked a fic, I think it was one by Lydia Bower dealing with Scully’s cancer arc, and basically did not stop reading. Soon I was printing off 300K of fic to take home with me each night. I could not believe the level of talent in the fandom, and that there were so many excellent writers just giving away their works for free. I wanted to play in this sandbox, too, so I started renting the VHS tapes to catch up on old episodes (see, I am An Old). After a few months, I began writing my own stuff.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to The X-Files. I’m not a sci-fi person by nature. I think my main objection is that, when done poorly, it feels lazy to me. Who did the thing? A ghost! Maybe an alien? I guess we’ll never know. You can always just shrug and play some spooky music and the “truth will always be out there…” somewhere beyond the story in front of you. You never have to commit to any kind of truth because you can invent some magical power or new kind of alien to change the story. I think, by the bitter end, the XF had devolved into this kind of storytelling. The mytharc made no kind of sense even in its own universe. But for years the XF achieved the best aspects of sci-fi storytelling—narrative flexibility and an apotheosis of our current fears dressed up as a super entertaining yarn.

What eventually sold me on the XF as a show is all of the smart storytelling and the sheer amount of ideas contained within its run. At its best, it’s a brilliant show. You have mediations on good versus evil, the role of government in a free society, is there a God, are we alone in the universe, and what are the elements that make us who we are? If Mulder and Morris Fletcher switch bodies, how do we know it’s really “them”? The tonal shifts from week to week were clever and engaging. For Vince Gilligan, truth was always found in fellow human beings. For Darin Morgan, humans were the biggest monster of all. The show was big enough to contain both these premises, and indeed, was stronger for it. The deep questions, the character quirks, the unsolved mysteries and all that went unsaid in the Mulder-Scully relationship left so much room for fanfic writers to do their own work. As such, the fandom attracted and continues to attract both dabbling writers and those who are serious craftspeople. People who like the mystery and those who like the sci-fi angle. Scientists and true believers. Like the show, it’s big enough for all.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I look at it like an old friend I catch up with once in a while. We’ve been close for so long that there’s no awkwardness—we just get each other! I love seeing people post screen shots and commentary, and I think it’s wonderful that so many writers are still inventing new adventures for Mulder and Scully. That is how the characters live on, and indeed how any of us lives on, through the stories that others tell about us.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I ran the Hunter fandom for about five years, mostly because when I poked my head back in, I found the person in change was a bully who’d shut down everything due to her own waning interest. A person would try to start a topic for discussion, and she’d say, “We’ve already covered that.” Well, yes, in a 30-year-old show, there’s not a lot of new ground…

Most other shows, Hunter included, have smaller fandoms and thus don’t attract the depth of fan talent. I don’t just mean fanfic writers. I mean those who do visual art, fan vids, critiques, etc. The XF fandom has all these in droves, which makes it a rare and special place. But all fandoms have the particular joy of geeking out over favorite scenes and reveling in the meeting of shared minds. It will always look odd to those not contained within it, which brings me to the part of modern fandom I find somewhat uncomfortable…the creators are often in fan-space.

In Hunter, the female lead joins fan groups and participates. This is more common now in the age of social media, where writers, producers, actors, etc., are on the same platforms as the rest of us. Fan and creator interaction used to be highly circumscribed: fans wrote letters and maybe received a signed headshot in return. There were cons where show runners gave panels and took questions from the audience. You could stand in line to meet your favorite star. Now, you can @ your favorite star on Twitter, message her on Facebook or follow him on Instagram. In some ways, this is so fun! In other ways, it blurs in the lines in ways that make me uncomfortable. I think it’s rude, for example, if a fan were to go on a star’s social media and post fanfic there or say, “I thought the episode you wrote was terrible.” But what if it’s fan space and the actor is sitting right there, watching you? Is it rude to post fanfic in front of her, especially if she says it makes her uncomfortable? Is it mean to tell a writer his episode sucked right to his face?

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I own the first seven seasons on DVD and will pull them out from time to time to rewatch old faves. I’ve shown a few episodes over the spring and summer to my ten-year-old daughter, and it’s been fun to see the series through her eyes. We’ve mostly opted for the comedic episodes because there’s enough going on in the real world to give her nightmares. Her favorite so far is Je Souhaite.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don’t have much bandwidth to read fanfic these days. My job as a mystery/thriller author means I have to keep up with the market so I do most of my reading there right now. I also beta read for some pro-fic friends and betaing a novel will keep you busy.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I read so much back in the day that this answer could go on for pages. Alas, it also hasn’t changed much over the past fifteen years because I haven’t read much since then. But, as we’re talking Golden Oldies today, here are a bunch:

All the Mulders, by Alloway I find this short story both hilarious and haunting. Scully embraces her power in the upside down post-apocalyptic world.

Strangers and the Strange Dead, by Kipler Taut prose and an intriguing 3rd party POV make this story a winner, and that’s before the kicker of an ending, which presaged 1013’s.

Cellphone, by Marasmus Talk about your killer twists! Also one of the cleverest titles coming or going.

Arizona Highways, by Fialka I think this is one of the best-crafted stories to come out of the XF. It’s majestic in scope, full of complex literary structure and theme, and yet the plot moves like a runaway freight train. Both the Mulder and Scully characterizations are handled with tender care.

So, We Kissed, by Alelou What I love about this one is how it grounds Mulder and Scully in the ordinary. Mulder’s terrible secret doesn’t involve a UFO or some CSM-conspiracy. Scully goes to therapy that actually looks like therapy. I guess what I’m saying is that I utterly believe this version of M & S in addition to just enjoying reading about them.

Sore Luck at the Luxor, by Anubis Hot, funny, atmospheric. What’s not to love?

Black Hole Season, by Penumbra Nobody does wordsmithing like Penumbra. I use her in arguments with professional writers when they try to tell me that adverbs and adjectives MUST GO. Just gorgeous, sly, insightful prose.

The Dreaming Sea, by Revely This one reads like a fairytale in all the best ways. Revely creates such loving, beautiful worlds for M & S to live in, and I wish they could stay there always.

Malus Genius, by Plausible Deniability and MaybeAmanda Funny and fun, with great original characters, a sly casefile and some clear-eyed musings on the perils of getting older. This one resonates more and more the older I get. ;)

Riding the Whirlpool, by Pufferdeux I look this one up periodically to prove to people that it exists. Scully gets off on a washing machine while Mulder helps. Yet it’s in character? And kinda works? This one has to be read to be believed.

Bone of Contention (part 1, part 2), by Michelle Kiefer and Kel People used to tell me all the time that casefiles are super easy to write while the poetic vignette is hard. Well, I can’t say which is harder but there much fewer well-done casefiles in the fandom than there are poetic vignettes. This is one of the great ones.

Antidote, by Rachel Howard A fic that manages to be both hot and cold as it imagines Mulder and Scully trying to stay alive in the frosty wilderness while a deadly virus is on the loose. This is an ooooold fic that holds up impressively well given everything that followed it!

Falling Down in Four Acts, by Anubis Anubis was actually a bunch of different writers sharing a single author name. This particular one paints an angry, vivid world for Our Heroes and their compatriots. There is no happy ending here, but I read this once and it stayed with me forever.

The Opposite of Impulse, by Maria Nicole A sweet slice of life on a sunny day. When I imagine a gentler universe for Mulder and Scully, this is the kind of place I’d put them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Bait and Switch is probably the most sophisticated and tightly plotted. It was late in my fanfic “career” and so it shows the benefits to all that learning. My favorite varies a lot, but I’ll say Universal Invariants because that one was nothing but fun.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I never say never! I don’t have any oldies sitting around, though. Everything I wrote, I posted.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I write casefiles…er, I mean mysteries, under my own name now, Joanna Schaffhausen. My main series with Reed and Ellery consists of a male-female crime solving team, so I get a little bit of my XF kick that way. Their first book, The Vanishing Season, started its life as an XF fanfic back in the day. I had to rewrite it from the ground up to get it published, but if you know both stories, you can spot the similarities.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

The answer any writer will tell you is “everywhere.” Ideas are cheap and they’re all around us—on the news, on the subway, in conversations with friends, from Twitter memes, on a walk through the woods. My mysteries are often rooted in true crime, often more than one of them.

Each idea is like a strand of colored thread, and you have to braid them together into a coherent story. This is the tricky part, determining which threads belong in which story. If the ideas enhance one another or if they just create an ugly tangent.

Mostly, though, stories begin by asking “what if?” What if Scully’s boyfriend Ethan had never been cut from the pilot? What if Scully had moved to Utah after Fight the Future? What if the Lone Gunmen financed their toys by writing a successful comic book starring a thinly veiled Mulder and Scully?

Growing up, I had a sweet old lady for a neighbor. Her name was Doris and she gave me coffee ice cream while we watched Wheel of Fortune together. Every time there was a snow storm, the snow melted in her backyard in a such way that suggested she had numerous bodies buried out there. How’s that for a “what if?”

What's the story behind your pen name?

I’ve had a few of them and honestly can’t tell you where they came from, it’s been so long ago. The “6” part of syntax6 is because I joke that 6 is my lucky number. In eighth grade, my algebra teacher would go around the room in order, asking each student their answer to the previous night’s homework problems. I realized quickly that I didn’t have to do all the problems, just the fifteenth one because my desk was 15th on her list. This worked well until the day she decided to call on kids in random order. When she got to me and asked me the answer to the problem I had not done, I just invented something on the spot. “Uh…six?”

Her: “You mean 0.6, don’t you?”

Me, nodding vigorously: “YES, I DO.”

Her: “Very good. Moving on…”

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My close friends and family have always known, and reactions have varied from mild befuddlement to enthusiastic support. My father voted in the Spookies one year, and you can believe he read the nominated stories before casting his vote. I think the most common reaction was: Why are you doing this for free? Why aren’t you trying to be a paid writer?

Well, having done both now, I can tell you that each kind of writing brings its own rewards. Fanfic is freeing because there is no pressure to make money from it. You can take risks and try new things and not have to worry if it fits into your business plan.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 15, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #syntax6

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r3almellow · 4 years

Text

MLQC Boys With A Famous S/o

Here we go! Thank you anon for this request I hope its to your liking!! Apologies for typos as always!

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Kiro (YouTuber S/o)

How did you meet ?

You were a YouTuber that had over 500,000 subscribers. During a Mukbang Q&A video you received a question in regards to your celebrity crush.

“I think the big ass poster currently behind me kind of gives it away, but my ultimate crush is Kiro. I’d give anything to meet him at least once.” You went even as far as to give him a shout out. “Hey, super star! I heard you were a big foodie and since you like to eat and I like to eat, maybe we can eat together sometime? Okay, that was dumb, please ignore this!”

Little did you know, Kiro was a huge fan of your videos and just so happened to see your request. Next thing you knew a clip of you “shooting your shot” made its way to his social media page with a caption of “Its a date ;)” right above it. You just about died when you saw his post. You were only joking around! Well...not 100% joking, but you didn’t expect him to respond!

You spent weeks talking to each other through private messages soon after. Your messages filled with gushing over your similar interests, playful banters and light flirting. He offered to be a part of your next Mukbang stating that it was better to have two people eating themselves into a coma on camera than one. You couldn’t argue with facts and took him up on his offer! Kiro only had one condition...you let him take you out on a date afterwards.

And the rest was history.

Dating

The cutest couple to have ever existed!

Both of your social media pages are filled with couple photos.

You both get to dress up in disguise whenever you go on dates! A baseball cap, sunglasses, and face masks are your usual go to’s, but depending on where you’re going you might be required to get a little creative.

Dealing with overly excited fans and even more persistent paparazzi was a bit new for you, since your interactions with people is mostly through the internet, but you handle it pretty well.

Interviewers practically threw themselves onto every opportunity to get information about your love life. Kiro was more skilled than you about these things, so you tend to just laugh awkwardly and let him take care of it.

Kiro appears a little more in your videos whenever he’s free which the fans are grateful for. Of course, your channel doesn’t turn into all things Kiro and you never use him for your own personal gain.

Dating Kiro did open up some opportunities for you, like getting to experience award shows and networking with other celebrities and content creators. Again, you refused to throw Kiro’s name around just to get the things you wanted.

You both like to bounce ideas off of each other, whether its for his music or for your latest video. Having two creative minds come together does wonders!

You’re almost always somewhere in the background during his live streams.

Gavin (Actress S/o)

How did you meet?

High school. You were a part of the drama club and Gavin was...well...forced into being a part of the stagehand after being threatened with expulsion from his last brawl.

You were the first one to welcome him. You were kind, funny, and cute. And when you were on that stage? Mesmerizing was the best way to put how Gavin saw you. You were inspiring.

After graduation Gavin lost contact with most of his acquaintances, but he never once stopped thinking about you. Gavin wasn’t big on celebrity news, but he actually kept up with your progress once he got wind of a newcomer taking the entertainment world by storm.

Fast forward to a few years later and he was playing bodyguard for one of the most successful actresses in the world. You. This was just an undercover job that was going to last as long as his target was still out there.

There was definitely chemistry between you. And while Gavin wanted to act on his feelings, his work had to come first. You respected that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to let him know you were interested. How could you not be? You had a huge crush on him back in high school and now that he was by your side practically every day those feelings came back with a vengeance!

As soon as Gavin’s objective was complete he continues being your bodyguard stating, “Only I can keep you out of trouble.” Which you responded by kissing him.

Dating

Once word got out about you dating your “bodyguard”, it shocked many that you decided to be with someone that wasn’t a celebrity.

Even so, Gavin doesn’t look like your average Joe. He has the body and face of man who could easily be on the cover of Vogue or Vanity Fair, but you know your man isn’t about that life.

You’ve spent years being a private person, so when you and Gavin start dating not revealing much was easy. The public only knew what you wanted them to.

There are a lot of at home dates filled with takeout and movie night. Just being in each others company is more than enough for you!

You work out together a lot! He’s really good about motivating you especially when you have to prepare for an upcoming movie. You honestly don’t need a personal trainer when you have Gavin.

The paparazzi are afraid of Gavin. Like they won’t even get within six feet of you whenever he’s around. The last poor soul who got a little too close for your liking ate asphalt within seconds.

Gavin isn’t one for the limelight or the glitz and glam, which you appreciate. Its nice to be around someone that isn’t a part of the entertainment world.

You don’t have to hide a part of yourself, in fear of judgement, whenever you were with him. You appreciated Gavin’s genuine nature. He was always truthful with you and he never gave the impression that he was only with you because of your status.

Gavin does a great job with making you feel special. Whenever you feel like you don’t meet the standards of what the industry wants, he pulls you out of that dark hole and gives you the pep talk you need to get through the day.

You could walk around without an ounce of makeup on or trade in a Dior dress for sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Gavin still found you beautiful.

Victor ( Famous Pianist S/o)

How did you meet?

Victor was a fan of your work for quite some time. There was something about your raw talent that drew him to your work. He always made it a point to go to all your live shows whenever he was available, but has never met you personally.

It wasn’t until you waltzed right into his office out of the blue. When he saw you enter his office with Goldman and two security guards tailing right behind you, he didn’t even recognize you. You looked as if you had just rolled out of bed with a messy bun, ripped jeans, t-shirt with some random cartoon character and thick rimmed glasses. His first thought as you stared him down with a frown was, “Who let this homeless person into his office?”

When Goldman called your name as the two security guards grabbed your arms, Victor had to do a double take. The elegant and graceful woman, who commanded the stage with just pads of her fingertips, was...YOU?!

Victor allowed you to stay, curious to know why you were here. You business with Victor was simple. You wanted funding to create music schools for low income families. You had sent countless emails to LFG with hopes to do business with them, but after being ignored the first few times and receiving a rude rejection email that morning, you were ready to take the bull by the horns.

Surprisingly Victor found himself intrigued by you and thus started an interesting partnership.

The more Victor got to work with you the more he became attracted to the headstrong, smart, and talented person who seemingly enjoyed ruffling his feathers every chance they got.

You were also attracted to the blunt, detail-oriented man and it bothered you to no-end. What you saw in a man who probably would critique drawings from a toddler, you had no idea. But you appreciated his work ethic. He genuinely wanted you to succeed with this project and you couldn’t deny his heart was in the right place.

The day the first school opened was the day Victor decided to stop tiptoeing around the mutual attraction and asked you out.

“We can celebrate your accomplishments over dinner.”

Dating

The CEO of LFG and the child prodigy turned world famous pianist dating?!

CAN WE SAY POWER COUPLE?!

Whenever paparazzi get a picture of the two of you, you both look as if you just finished a professional photoshoot. You NEVER look bad in those photos. Never!

And when you do professional shoots? It leaves people SHOOK. Magazines like Forbes have never had such a beautiful couple grace their covers before. Just wait until people see your wedding photos.

You always ask him to visit you during your rehearsals which he almost always declines but shows up anyway, if he’s not too busy. He’ll also bring a box of his homemade pudding because knowing you, you probably were too busy with preparations for your upcoming concert to eat. He’ll take you out to eat afterwards, but the pudding should hold you over for a bit.

Victor will never admit this to you, but your music helps him de-stress after a long day at work, so whenever he isn’t with you, your music helps him fall asleep.

Victor also likes to watch you work. Seeing you so focused as you create your next piece was a sight to beheld. The pensive look in your eyes as you went over your music sheet, the slow nod of your head as your fingers danced across the keys as you intently listened to the melody, and the way your eyebrow twitched when you hit a key you didn’t like; all things oddly enjoyed seeing.

You’ll never catch him staring. He’ll pretend he’s working whenever you feel his eyes on you and if you try to call him out on it, he will most likely deny it.

Lucien ( Novelist S/o)

How did you meet?

You needed the help of someone knowledgeable with neuroscience for your next book. Someone recommended a Professor at Loveland University who specialized on the topic. That was how you met Professor Lucien.

You two worked closely together once you started your manuscript, going over various topics under the neuroscience category. It wasn’t surprising just how intelligent the man was on the subject, but you were in awe about how much you knew.

Your meetings would often start at the university which led to you going home together once you found out he lived in the same building as you. You leveled up from the lecture hall to aquariums, movie theaters, restaurants, and his apartment where you had lunch or dinner.

Your conversations never stayed on the topic of work. It often changed to your interests. You found that you and Lucien had a lot of similar interests like your taste in books and art. He also developed a love for teasing you.

Seeing the look on your flustered face turned into one of his favorite pastimes.

When it came to the topic of your books, you learned Lucien has read quite a few of them and was very intrigued with your work. He asked you numerous questions, questions no one thought to ask.

He admitted to you his favorite of yours was the first book he ever read titled, “The Boy Who Dreamed.” You jokingly offered to sign his book, but he declined with a smile.

“I’ll admit I do enjoy the book, but I’m more interested in the woman who wrote it.”

Dating

More dates at your favorite places.

Almost every other week, Lucien seemed to have tickets to art exhibits, festivals, or the movies.

His teasing intensifies by a hundred! That man loves to tease you and you hate it! You love it.

The closer you got to Lucien, the more you realized he didn’t enjoy talking about himself, so it takes a while to learn about him or his past. You never press him for information, but he does reveal things to you within time.

Lucien loves when you read to him. Its how he falls asleep and once you find out he has trouble sleeping, you always suggest what you call “story time.”

In truth, having you by his side is more than enough to get him to sleep, but if you aren’t there hearing your voice will do the trick. You could be reading anything and he’d be fine with it. From Dr. Seuss to H.G. Wells, Lucien was fine with it as long as he got hear your voice.

You like to ask for his opinion on your latest projects. He does a great job making you think outside of the box which will make things easier or challenging during your writing sessions.

Whenever you encounter writer’s block, Lucien will pull you away from your laptop and mountains of papers to enjoy a nice relaxing day with him.

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Doooone! Please comment if you enjoyed this! I’d love to know what you guys think!

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my MLQC masterlist here!

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mldd #mr. love #mr love queen's choice #mr love #mr love dream date

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a-student-out-of-time · 4 years

Text

Rambling about V3 Again

Today I saw a really interesting quote from author Brandon Sanderson and it honestly got me thinking. He talked about what he considers the single worst thing you can do with critique in writing, and that’s if a critic “tries to make your story into one they would write, rather a better version of one you want to write.”

That got me thinking about V3.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that V3 is a very polarizing game, and I’ve seen many people talk about how they would’ve preferred to see the story play out, from character arcs to deaths to story conclusions. And while I do honestly enjoy seeing alternative perspectives and takes and AU’s, I feel like a lot about the game, what it’s trying to say and be, is skewed by those ideals.

I’m not saying that the critiques about the game are invalid, because there are a fair share of flaws with the game. What I am saying is that we end up talking so much about what we wish V3 could’ve been that what V3 was trying to be often ends up lost in that, and I want to talk about it.

It wasn’t until I really saw this quote that I was able to articulate all my likes and dislikes about the game and the reactions to it into a cohesive whole, which is what I’d like to do here.

So let’s ask this: what was V3 really trying to be?

Let’s start from the game’s theme: the relationship between truth and lies. This is best exemplified by the fact that you have the option to lie during trials, that you can use deception to find the truth. That’s a very different take from the previous games, where hope was associated with finding and confronting the truth.

Kokichi is another example, as he’s a self-admitted liar who claims to lead a criminal organization and it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking or saying. Yet Kokichi actually helps bring the group to several truths: he helps find the culprit in trials, he reveals Maki’s identity as the Ultimate Assassin, tells the truth about Gonta murdering Miu and it’s thanks to his actions that the group later discovers the reality of their situation.

Throughout their journey, the group is confronted by numerous truths they don’t want to acknowledge, even refusing to do so and attacking people who continue to push them through. And with every revelation, there’s always those lingering details that don’t really make a lot of sense.

Let’s look at the game’s main narrative. At the start of the game, Kaede remembers she was kidnapped in broad daylight, thrown into a van, and brought to some abandoned school with a bunch of other people. She doesn’t act like a particularly nice person and is dressed differently, at least until the Monokubs arrive and give everyone their new clothes and memories. From that point, the narrative shifts considerably.

Kaede is suddenly an outgoing, optimistic leader and Shuichi is a sullen, withdrawn detective who serves as her deuteragonist for Chapter 1. She’s resolved to escape the Killing Game and tries to rally the group together. However, when her methods don’t prove successful and they start drifting away from her, she considers saving them by any means necessary and goes so far as to attempt murder against the mastermind. When that happens, she’s found guilty and executed, leaving Shuichi to take up her role as protagonist.

As you go through the game, using devices called flashback lights that apparently reawaken lost memories, you learn more and more about the reason that the group was brought here: the Gofer Project. When meteors began raining down on earth, all seemed lost until they established this project to send a group of survivors into space to colonize a new planet. A group of Ultimates.

They had established early on that Ultimates have even greater rights in this world: they’re the only ones allowed to vote and hold office. As the meteors came down and the news of this project got out, some people formed a cult that believed it was divine judgement and that mankind should be destroyed. That’s when they began the Ultimate Hunt, pursuing the candidates for the Gofer Project across the world. The Ultimates, with no other way out, decided to erase their memories of talent and live their last days as normal people.

To protect them, the people in charge spread a false story that the Ultimates had died, even holding a fake funeral for them and sent them into space secretly. However, while everyone was in cold sleep, one member of the cult- Kokichi- had sneaked aboard and piloted the ship back to the ruined and now inhospitable earth. They have no way back and no way to survive outside, and thanks to Kokichi’s claims to be the mastermind, they’ve been killing each for nothing. The group ultimately loses hope.

However, they’re resolved to continue on in their fight against the mastermind when they find a flashback light that reveals they weren’t just any ultimates: they were the next generation of ultimates from Hope’s Peak Academy. It wasn’t really the meteorites that got everyone, it was an alien virus that pushed mankind to the brink of extinction. That the cult that rose in the wake of this was Ultimate Despair.

That seems like a definitive way to link this game with its predecessors...until you really begin to stop and pick it apart. If this was about saving mankind, why did nobody have their memories right away? Why would you only bring 16 people? Why students who don’t make them suited to colonization? Why people like a death row inmate, a serial killer, a self-proclaimed liar and criminal, and an assassin?

Furthermore, going through many Fte’s highlights how much of the characters’ backstories seem very out there. Gonta wasn’t raised by wolves but a race of dinosaur people living in the woods, Kirumi is so hyper-competent that she became prime minister during the meteor crisis, Korekiyo’s killed almost 100 women and yet has never been caught, Maki can attend high school despite Japanese orphanages being too underfunded for kids to usually attend, Tenko’s neo-aikido breaks all the rules of traditional aikido and she's impulsive, has low pain tolerance, and disregards fair rules, none of which are very befitting of a martial artist.

And to conclude, even I thought that the reveal of their connection to Hope’s Peak felt very fanficy and out there, especially when the game had made no references or implications of it beforehand. But the reason for all of this is simple and effective:

None of this is real. It’s all staged.

Chapter 6 reveals that everything from their identities to the outside world they thought they knew was all just a fabrication. In truth, Tsumugi shows herself as the mastermind and that they’re actually in the 53rd season of an in-universe show called Danganronpa. Something alluded to even in the beginning of the game with the Team Danganronpa logo. This moment was very make or break for a lot of people, but let’s treat it fairly.

According to Tsumugi, the outside world has become a peaceful, boring place and Danganronpa is the only source of real entertainment the people have. A place where people literally come to have their identities replaced with those of Ultimates and then made to kill each other. This, as it turns out, was an outgrowth of the actual series we’d played before. A game that’s gone over 53 times.

This revelation is devastating for the characters. The lives and memories they’d known were all fabrications, which Tsumugi claims to have intentionally written. The Flashback lights were designed to implant fake memories to manipulate them, which is why that Hope’s Peak connection was set up after everyone gave up following the reveal of the outside world. A truth that could lead the world to despair, a lie that could lead the world to hope.

She even goes so far as to show everyone’s audition tapes, claiming that Kaede, Kaito, and Shuichi himself were willing to participate in the killings out of sheer misanthropy, popularity, and morbid excitement

Kiibo is also revealed to be the audience’s means of interacting with the game, able to carry out their wishes and can even be hijacked and used as a way to fight against the characters’ decisions.

In the end, Tsumugi claims that the ongoing battle of hope vs despair needs to continue in perpetuity and that the survivors need to sacrifice someone, since only two people can survive Danganronpa. Shuichi, however, convinces Maki and Himiko not to vote for anyone and actually convinces the in-universe audience to give up on the series. Kiibo then blows the set to hell and allows Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko the chance to escape and see the world outside and what sort of influence they could have.

Now, let’s this break this down piece by piece here, because I feel like this part of the game is often conflated. Often I’ve seen people say that Chapter 6 is a giant middle finger to fans of the series, that nothing about the series really mattered, or that the flaws of the game can simply be attributed to bad writing on the creator’s part.

I honestly used to be in that camp myself, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I feel those statements don’t hold up to scrutiny. We often conflate writing and narrative decisions we don’t like with bad writing. However, if the creator deliberately wants the narrative to move in that direction and has made intentional foreshadowing, references, and motivations that match it, we can’t simply equate that with it being “badly written.”

It’s not bad simply because we would’ve preferred they do something different. There’s a lot of very acclaimed books out there that I’ll admit I don’t care for because of their narrative decisions, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re badly-written.

Furthermore, if something intentionally doesn’t make sense in-story, that is not bad writing. That is purposeful on the part of the creator, not a plot hole. The Gofer Project is not supposed to be a logical narrative, it’s meant to serve V3′s role: deconstruction of the nature of the series. It does this in many different ways:

Sequelization: 53 is a ridiculous amount of entries in a franchise and as I’m sure we’re all aware, as the number of entries goes up, the writing quality tends to go down. The Gofer Project story was purposefully meant to be nonsensical because it’s a story in an in-universe franchise that jumped the shark long ago.

A lot of people found it confusing or ridiculous that Shuichi and Kaede would have a romantic connection despite knowing each other barely a few days. That’s also the point; quick romances are a convenient narrative device to establish a means for character growth, followed by fridging her, a bad narrative trope designed to propel Shuichi toward development. Tsumugi even said as much during Chapter 6.

Similarly, Maki’s role in the story and her feelings for Kaito were reminiscent of that as well, with him helping her come out of her shell.

When you go back, you can see Danganronpa is loaded with references to other series. Tsumugi is an obsessive otaku and went so far as to fill the entire story with deliberate references and callbacks to things she enjoys.

The Monokubs are deliberate references to executive decisions to add more marketable and merchandisable characters as the series drags on.

The fact that there are (supposedly) people willing to sign up for a killing game deconstructs the idea that some in the fandom may have had. That is, actually being in a killing game would not be fun or exciting, but horrific and traumatizing. Most of us wouldn’t be badass detectives or heroes, we’d be scared out of our minds, afraid, and want to find a way out.

Furthermore, Shuichi being repeatedly told that he’s just a fictional character and that his role is to be the protagonist, to go through hardships and come out stronger for the audience’s entertainment pisses him off so much that he wants no part of it.

The climax is ultimately a deconstruction of what the series is famous for: the battle of hope vs. despair. In-universe, this has been reduced down to a simple narrative where the audience wants the same thing again and again: to see hope win in the end. Because hope keeps winning, the audience keeps wanting more. It’s become so formulaic that the audience doesn’t want to break out of its shell and just wants to see it over and over.

The final PTA against Kiibo is not meant to be an insult to the audience, but a representation of fighting against toxicity and entitlement in the fanbase, especially the ones that don’t want change. It’s not saying “you’re stupid for liking this series,” it’s saying “don’t be like these people.”

And how does the game? An unsatisfying ending that’s so bad that it drives the audience to give up on the show, finally allowing the killing to stop. Tsumugi decides she can’t live in a world without her favorite show and decides to die.

And that brings me to what I think is the ultimate thing that people conflate about the ending: that it’s all fiction, so nothing about it matters. That the entire franchise was fake, so it’s not worth your time.

That’s exactly the opposite of what V3 is trying to say.

First, Tsumugi is a completely unreliable narrator. The kind of person who let fiction consume her entire life, yet she believes it can’t change reality. She’s a liar and a hypocrite, and there’s no way of knowing if anything she says about the outside world is even true. It could be like she says or it might not be.

The fact that they have technology that can remove memories and add fake ones adds an entire dimension of ambiguity to everything she says, especially when you consider how the beginning of the game does not match up with what she says. We have no idea what the kids were really like before the killing game, so why should we believe anything she says?

And how can we be certain of her claims that she just wrote everything as planned? Kokichi and Kaito managed to put together a plan that completely threw her and Monokuma for a loop

Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko ultimately choosing to take the words of Kaede, Kaito, and Tenko to heart, even if they were part of a fictional narrative, is proof that they still had an influence on the trio. They choose to take something meaningful from their experiences regardless of the reality of their situation. And that’s something we all do.

The media we consume has an influence over who we are as people, and it’s part of why so many of us have such strong attachments to works we love. They were often influential in help shape who we are as people now, for good and for ill, and it’s important to take that into account.

V3′s message is that yes, that is important, and that you should read and enjoy stories and fiction, just as long as you don’t let it consume your life. They can influence you and even the world at large, and so it’s our responsibility as writers, artists, and creators to use that influence positively, to use the medium as a way to change the world for the better. That the only way for stale franchises that we’re tired of seeing over and over is to demand change, even if that means walking out on them. That the only way for things to change is for us to take action and demand change.

And by the end, we may not see immediate results, but we can at least work hard at trying to bring them about. V3 ends with Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko facing an uncertain future in a world they really know nothing about, but hopeful that their actions can and will change the world for the better. Real life doesn’t have solid, satisfying conclusions and it always doesn’t play out like a story, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on ever finding something satisfying or hopeful out there.

This, by no means, is me saying that V3 is a flawless story. I can point to numerous critiques that I still think hold water. However, Sanderson’s point is that we shouldn’t criticize a work based on what we wish it was rather than how it is and what it was trying to do.

I know there’s a lot about the story that bothers people, I know there’s a lot that wasn’t polished and a lot that feels uncomfortable and hard to swallow. Like Shuichi, coming out feeling confused, lost, unsure of what to do, but choosing to see merit and things to take to heart even in a story that turned out to be full of lies and uncomfortable truths.

If you didn’t enjoy V3, I wouldn’t force you to enjoy it. If you did love it, then you should love it. These are all just my thoughts on a story that, as time goes on, honestly feels more and more relevant to me.

#mod talks #a student out of time #mod rambles #danganronpa v3 #v3

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 4 years

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typing help needed: i get rly obsessed with things & have to know everything abt them (astrology, cats, certain fictional characters, etc) & constantly bring them up in conversations. speaking of which, i only really initiate conversations when there’s something specific i want to talk about; i don’t talk to people just for talking’s sake. i’m ambivalent about spending time w ppl. i could go months w/o seeing ppl as long as i could text them & most people are boring to me anyway, but there are types of ppl whose company i never get tired of. i love being around funny, ambitious & intelligent ppl who tell it like it is. really emotional & soft ppl annoy me. stupid ppl annoy me but also amuse me. what annoys me most is when ppl waste my time (n i lowkey feel guilty abt this ask bc it’s so long & unorganized i’m sorry i tried). i’m constantly tempted to prank people/provoke fights but i’m scared of getting in trouble. academic & financial success are extremely important to me. i’ll sacrifice anything for straight As. i put 100% effort into everything i do as long as i’m interested in it (chores? hell no.) but lose steam quickly and slack off when a project is near completed. still, i do whatever i need to to outperform my classmates. the thought of working a 9-5 office job fills me with unimaginable dread because i hate rigid schedules & having to see the same boring people/place every single day. i want to write/draw for a living and/or be a professor, don’t rly have a plan tho i just take opportunities as they come. i live to entertain. i love wearing weird/flashy clothes that attract attention. i’m “the funny one” and “the creative one” in my friend group. i’m an open book in that i’ll answer p much any question honestly. but the intimacy of romantic relationships is hard for me. i hate feeling vulnerable and i’m terrified of rejection. i’ve never confessed romantic feelings to anyone, but i’ll do crazy things for “love.” i got myself a full ride scholarship to a private high school just because someone i liked was going to go there & then did the same thing for a different person for college. i’m confident & insecure at the same time, like i know i’m smart & capable but i worry that other people won’t see that. i have terrible fomo and i feel like i’m losing a race against everyone else my age. i’m pretty opinionated when it comes to politics & v vocal when i disagree w someone unless they have power over me in which case i bitch about them behind their back. i love a good fight but tap out when people refuse to listen to reason. i have over 20000 accounts blocked on twitter. i wish ppl were less sensitive bc i hate trying not to make them upset. i don’t want to make them upset but i hate that i have to act fake nice in order to do that. it happens a lot in my classes when we critique e/o’s work like i have nothing positive to say to u i’m sorry. i’m a deeply angry person but i try to hide it bc despite wanting to not care abt what people think of me i often do & i’m scared they’d hate the real me. anyway i think i’m an NP but no idea about the other 2 letters & enneagram i have no clue i feel like i don’t fit neatly into any of them. thanks in advance for reading all this hogwash !

okay before I read this...how are you getting around the character limit per ask? I’ve seen this a couple times but very inconsistently but anyway I might need to reframe my ask limit as a character limit (which this is technically under although I can’t believe I’m saying this, but much as I hate copying and pasting each part of 7 asks at least that method has paragraph breaks).

Anyway, ESTP, enneagram 3.

- a lot of the “I wish I could be more chaotic but I’m worried about getting in trouble or being seen as less than impressive” stuff here is very in line with how an Ne or Se-dom 3 acts

- hating routine, grabbing opportunities effectively but for impulsive reasons, and putting effort in based solely on interest or succeeding against certain metrics (rather than say, general obligations) are all very Ne or Se dom as well

- the specific examples you gave of seizing opportunities, the fact that you gave specific examples in the first place (this is a good thing; a lot of questions I get have me like....concrete examples? spare a concrete example for the sensor?), the 3-ness of it all, and the fomo all sound far more like high Se than high Ne to me. The focus on external metrics and the weird flashy clothes also have me thinking high Se.

- the caring to the degree you do about other people and their opinions of you is definitely part of 3 (especially since a lot of it is about not getting into trouble or having good grades) but also pretty clearly the Ti-Fe axis; this isn’t strictly being impressive via competence the way many Te-doms do it, but through interpersonal tracks as well.

- the part about arguments is 100% high Ti. I have no idea how you blocked so many people on twitter or why and frankly I’m not sure how that’s relevant, but one of the greatest hallmarks of high Ti and especially aux Ti (it’s the extroversion) is loving arguments and even starting them but the second someone else doesn’t engage with the rules (which can be valid, like being reasonable, but can also include the other person pointing out this is legitimately a matter of opinion) leaving or getting frustrated or doubling down in weird ways.

#mbti #enneagram #estp #enneagram 3 #Anonymous

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causticameracrap · 4 years

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i hate that my life has come to this.

i was so happy* early this year............ apart from the body self-loathing in january. * (did this mean that life was perfect? absolutely not. i was still very much in my grief, very much feeling slighted and abandoned. but i wasn’t angry at myself. i didn’t hate myself. i was rightfully angry at circumstances outside of my control.)

i deserved better.

i was so excited to progress. i was excited for my future. i was excited to finally become someone who Might Be Someone, or Might Make Something, or Might Mean Something. but now... i don’t have anything to look forward to. what i thought would be certain is no longer, and may never return. i’m doubting myself and my abilities, after Finally, Just Fucking Finally beginning to trust in myself and value myself. and my mental health feels like it’s taken multiple steps backward. i’ve progressed in and with my grief, yes, but everything else has slid so fucking far down that’ll take Another series of years to get back to what was once baseline. and that baseline i need to claw back to is already so lacking and demoralizing already.

the BPD prevents me from seeing myself objectively. and for a while, i was managing it. i was seeing what others saw in me. i wasn’t listening to the Other Self that hates themself. i could fight back. but now... i don’t see my own successes that other people exasperatingly point out. they don’t matter because they are so small so they don’t exist. it’s been too long since i felt meaning so it doesn’t exist and it won’t exist. you aren’t successful so you are a failure. you are not loved so you are unloved. you are not any of these things so you are nothing. there are no other choices. there are no other ways to view yourself. there is no nuance in the void.

i want to be someone like Daniel. i want to achieve in Everything i set my mind to. i want to be good at Everything i can possibly do. i want to be one of the best at Something. i want to Matter to a lot of people. others point out that this is unreasonable to expect so much of yourself, that it’s greedy to reach for all of the figs from the tree, but there Are people who can! there are people who Do! there is Daniel and so many more like him. and they are rightfully celebrated for being multi-faceted and Incredible.

but i’m not, and rightfully so, because i fall so laughably short. my achievements are so small compared to others, who are way closer to Daniels than i am to even them. instead of being good, really Good without a doubt, at something... i am above average at a few, average at many, and below average to failing at many others. and now that i’ve put a name as to why my brain fails at what other people can conceive so easily, i feel even more of a failure.

i know deep in the back of my mind that i shouldn’t compare - especially now being self-aware at discalculia, and how it encompasses so many things in daily & academic & professional life. but i Have to compare. i Want to be better than average. i Want to matter. (is it so wrong to want????) i feel so poorly about myself because deep down i know i Can and Should be better. i Should and Can be the person people think i am.

and it hurts because i know i Could be that person... if things were different.

.... i hate that i wasn’t given a fair shot at life. it seems i was cursed from the womb. i wasn’t aware of all of the things wrong with me, but they were always there and i know them now. i was depressed for most of my life. and part of that is just being in an environment with an abusive mother who belittles and threatens you all of the time. and part of that is having the beginnings of various personality disorders, again exacerbated and likely caused by the abuse. and then the learning disorder that i didn’t even know i had, because thru sheer force of will i passed the usual landmarks that are usually the indicators / red flags, but... if i had gotten help with that sooner. if i could have gotten more help understanding spatial awareness. if i had been told that it wasn’t my fault that my mother was acting this way sooner. if i had been comforted or loved unconditionally. if i had been treated more kindly. if i had been given a safe outlet for my emotions, whether in therapy or literally with anyone i could trust. perhaps... my life would have been different. perhaps my life would have been better. and not perhaps. I Know My Life Would Have Been Different. i would have been Stronger. i would have been Smarter. i would have been more Successful. i would and could have been anything. but that wasn’t meant to be. and it’s not fair that it wasn’t.

some people are grateful of their neurological differences. i’m not. art... the creative life... i would honestly trade it away to be “normal.” yes, i said it! the most important aspects i’ve valued in my life & life’s journey are truly not that important at all! the only reason i wanted to go the road less traveled was because i knew my brain and myself wouldn’t be able to succeed there. i am afraid of failure. that is always my primary motivation: i am afraid of failure. if i was “normal,” i could succeed in the normal things. i could have went the STEM route like everyone else i fucking know before art school ruined my second shot at life. i could have had a more stable life. my creativity is meaningless in the face of a better self.

without every single fucking psychological issue (and there are So Many them and i am so Frustrated that there are so many of them because i’m So Fucked Up, despite all the progress i’ve made), i would be in a stable relationship. it would be easier to love myself. it would be easier to trust others. it would be easier to put myself out there in the position to create love with someone else. as much as i am lonely, i am so afraid of being rejected. and any chance i have taken has been met with failure. how could i not equate that with me being unworthy of love? how could i not just fall into despair and distance myself? i Hate that it Would have been different. living with someone in reality instead of fantasies in my head.

writing and creating art is a way to deal with my pain, but if i didn’t have the pain... if i wasn’t depressed & abused & a fucking idiot... i Wouldn’t have a Need for art. if things had been different, there would be no subject, no reason to entertain that path. my real artist statement is pain - self-inflicted and self-endured. rarely, it has included other’s pain, but it is always negative. no wonder my art means nothing to so many. who wants to wade thru someone else’s fucked up mind with no real end goal? who wants to wade thru body of work after body of work describing the same old shit, and not even executed well? i certainly don’t blame them. look at the photo over there instead.

truthfully, my first love was space. during elementary lunch or library times i would sit against the walls that looked so big then with space books as thick as my arm. i would read about saturn and hug it to my chest. i would excitedly tell facts about jupiter and all of its moons to my friends. i would watch star wars on laser disc every other week, looking up in wonder at the ships sailing thru space and time, wanting to wander so easily just as they did. but my brain would never be able to handle it. as soon as i learned what was required, i knew it would never be. that was the first time my heart was broken. everything else in my life has been settling. that’s right, art is just something i settled on.

if i was looking at the stars, discovering things... i think i would Actually be happy. analyzing the photographs of distant nebulas and planets, instead of the bullshit i’ve snapped on my own. writing about our place in this galaxy, and how it relates to countless others, instead of focusing on my own life - which obviously means absolutely fucking Nothing in the scope of everything. (and i would be okay with that!) working on a telescope, instead of all the broken aspects of myself.

i wouldn’t even need to reach the summit. i wouldn’t need to be floating in a space station. i would be happy on the ground. i wouldn’t need to be a director. i would be happy behind screens and buttons. i would be happy as a body of many. because i would matter to myself first.

there with space... i wouldn’t be caught up in whether my art is better / is worth more or the same than another’s. i wouldn’t be overwhelmed with insecurities and artistic imposter’s syndrome. i would be working in the Objective. this thing exists. this is a specific phenomena. it is now being given a name. it is now being studied. you are now studying it. it is now being reviewed. if there is critique, you will address accordingly. you don’t have to worry about whether or not someone has an emotional or financial connection to it - a person either believes or doesn’t. the study is either sound or un-sound. the work is either published or unpublished. the mission is either a success or a failure. procedures are either followed or not. you are either looking or you aren’t. these are the blacks and whites you can handle. this is how your brain operates.

it’s easier for me to write off a dumbass who refuses to see beyond the shadows of a cave, than someone who doesn’t like my shadow and prefers the puppets of someone else. i can’t handle the subjective. why are my shapes worth less to you than his? aren’t we using the same fingers? aren’t we projecting on the same cave? why do you believe in those truths more than mine? i can’t handle the critique of my work because it Must be tied to myself and my pain. if you can’t understand the work, you can’t understand me. if you don’t like the work, you don’t like me. there is no separation between the created and creator. perhaps this too is a lack of spatial awareness. perhaps it is not the BPD holding me back but discalculia yet again. maybe it was the culprit all along. i wish i had realized it sooner.

the truth is, i shouldn’t be here in these circles. maybe i was never meant to be here. truthfully, i wish i wasn’t here. if there was a way to slide into that alternate timeline, Over Somewhere Else to live the Other Mica’s life, i would. i would and i would never look back.

there’s nothing i’ve gained from being different. and i’ve made nothing of it. if i could do it all again with another build, i would. even if my upbringing remained the same, if those points could be put into the traditional AP route: the calculus & the physics & the SATs & 4 years & the degrees, i would. then every resulting choice would be different. every resulting outcome would be sound. i would be someone else. and i would be Someone.

#prose diary

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robotsandzombiesarebi · 4 years

Text

Hss class act fanfiction

Looking at the same sky - part 3

(Skye x MC)

[A/N -- If you would like to be tagged in these chapters in the future, let me know and I'll make sure you're on the list.]

Skye read the message and felt a strange mix of relief for being able to talk to Bailey after the conversation she had just had with her mother, and nerves because of the words her girlfriend had used

'Can I call? We need to talk about something 🖤'

Running though several scenarios in her head, Skye threw herself on to her bed and wiped at her dampening eyes. She sent a thumbs up emoji back and waited for the phone to ring. Within seconds, her phone lit up, playing 'Love will tear us apart'. Looking at the screen, Skye saw that it was a video call coming through and quickly hit 'Decline'. Sending a quick message, asking Bailey to wait a few minutes, she dashed to the mirror to check the make-up on her eyes was intact and pulling off the tatty pyjama top she was wearing, covering herself instead with her black bathrobe. Settling back on to her bed, after running her fingers through her long red hair, she opened a video call with Bailey.

Within seconds, Bailey appeared on the screen. Her eyes were heavy and her smile was plainly forced. Skye mirrored her expression, trying to hide the way her last conversation made her feel. Bailey worried about her enough. She didn't need outdated thinking and unveiled homophobia from her family adding to it.

"Hey Bailey." She said softly, clearing her throat after to help her voice. Bailey was clearly checking her own reflection on her camera, subtly wiping at the bottom of her eyes and trying harder to school her smile.

"Hey Skye. I miss you" Her attention was now clearly on Skye who smiled contentedly at her.

"Its hardly been an hour. But I miss you too, especially when you're sweet."

"So always, right?" Bailey let out a small laugh that caught in her throat as she spoke.

"Yeah. You're always cute I guess." Skye smirked. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well..." Bailey began. As she thought of the best way to approach it, she saw the poorly hidden, scared look on Skye's face. "What's wrong?"

The question startled Skye. Realising she should never have accepted a video call, she gave up trying to keep herself together. A glance at her door showed no shadows in the light under it. It wasn't unusual for one of them to decide to listen in so they stay in control of everything. Skye explained what had happened since they parted. Brian snooping, her mother's critique, her dad's obliviousness to her. By the time she had finished, her cheeks were streaked with charcoal tears. Bailey looked calm, taking in everything Skye was saying, giving her time to finish before reacting, but her eyes betrayed her anger. She was furious. They talked through it. Bailey helping Skye to process what she was feeling while listening to everything her girlfriend needed to get off of her chest.

Skye exhaled slowly, composing herself and ready to move on.

"You never said what you wanted to talk about" She said dryly.

"Oh yeah..." Bailey paused. "I was going to ask..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you wearing anything under that big ol bathrobe?" She giggled.

"Seriously?!" Skye gasped with a deep blush creeping over her face. "No..."

"No?!" Bailey choked out, her blush surpassing Syke's.

"I meant, no, that's not what you wanted to talk about"

"Oh right... yeah, I definitely knew that. It's ok, we'll talk tomorrow. It's nothing to worry about right now anyway."

"You sure?" Concern shook Skye's voice.

"Yeah. Are you ok? The last thing I want is you worrying." Bailey asked, searchingly.

"I am. I think I'm just tired at this point."

"It takes a lot out of you, huh?"

"Sometimes. Talking to you helps. You always know what to say."

Bailey blushed harder than before at the praise. Suddenly feeling a little relieved, knowing she would still always be able to talk to her, she could always be there for her that way.

"I'm here to help." She said with a salute to her camera. "You should get some sleep though. If you wake up, just call me, ok? You're not disturbing me, I promise."

"Okay. I will, if I need to." Skye assured her.

They said a short good night and ended their call, not before Bailey blowing Skye a loud kiss, then waiting expectantly for Skye to catch it, which she did with an eye roll. Skye settled under her covers easily, one hand tucked under her pillow, the other cradling her phone. She scrolled social media for a while, until her phone chimed with a notification from Bailey. Skye opened the picture that was captioned "There's nothing on under this bathrobe either"

When the picture opened, it was of Bailey's dog, Biscuit wearing her purple fluffy gown against his plush white fur. It made her smile, more than she had all night. Bailey could do that. Only Bailey.

'I really love her.' Was the last thought in Skye's mind as her eyelids hung heavy and she drifted in to a peaceful sleep.

--------

The next day, Skye was getting dressed and checking the time constantly. She always met Bailey at 10:45am. It gave her a perfect amount of time to leave her house without issue. Her dad leaves early, so does Brian. Her mother, being a woman of leisure, didn't leave the house until she was good and ready. The bar at the brunch place she met her 'friends' at on the weekends opened at 10:30, so she would leave 15 minutes before, giving Skye 10 minutes to leave her room and get out of the front door before Brian came home from the gym, stinking and overdosed on testosterone. She got out without a problem and took a slow walk in to town. As she got to the arcade, she saw Bailey hitting the side of a crane machine which had a plush toy hanging precariously over the edge of the prize slot.

"Why not just put in another quarter?" Skye commented from behind her, making her jump and knock the machine, causing the plushie to fall within reach.

"Yes! I never lose!" Bailey chuckled turning to Skye and holding out the toy for her. "Here, he's all yours."

"Oh, that's ok. I don't want to take your prize." She mumbled. Looking at the toy, she could see it was clearly a knock-off version of the doppelganger monster from the movie she had shown Bailey on the first (and last) night she had visited her bedroom.

"But I wouldn't have won it if you didn't make me knock in to the machine. Besides...." Bailey held out the little stuffed monster to her again. "...You're my prize."

Skye was use to the corny jokes, the cheesy one liners, the awful attempts at flirting. Her girlfriend was awkward, it was a fact. She usually compensated for this by saying whatever first came to mind so she didn't overthink what she was saying. It made Skye feel more secure, knowing that Bailey meant everything she said without any hidden intent.

"Your prize for what?" She asked shyly, gently taking the toy and fighting her smile back.

"Hmmm... putting up with Ajay. I should definitely be compensated for that."

"Don't forget Danielle." Skye smirked.

"The girl who made me look like I would risk someone's life for a role in a play. I had totally forgotten about her, thank you." She laughed, shoving Skye's shoulder slightly.

The two of them shared a sweet kiss and walked in to the arcade, hand in hand. After playing their usual favourite games they moved over to the cafe area to get some lunch. Skye ordered their food, refusing to let Bailey pay while Bailey tried to get the busted tablet attached to the table to work. Skye sat beside her, sliding her a red basket of fries and a soft drink.

"Any luck?" She asked, nodding at the tablet.

"No, but..." Bailey gestured to the window. "...How about some classic entertainment?"

Outside, Skye saw Brian, flocked by some of his friends, all of them wearing similar gym clothes, surrounding a small group of girls. Brian was the only one speaking by the look of it, until the entire group of girls burst with laughter as walked off practically holding their sides. Brian, who's face now matched his hair perfectly, stormed off in the other direction with his friends trailing behind. Skye and Bailey shared a smile before falling into a fit of loud giggles.

As they are their lunch, Skye began to notice how quiet Bailey had become. She wasn't even eating much, just pushing her food around instead.

"Bailey!" Skye called out.

"What?!"

"You're not this quiet. What's wrong?" She asked as she stared in to Bailey's eyes, trying to find an answer.

"So. Remember I said we needed to talk about something?" She muttered.

"Yeah. Then I dropped all that stuff about my family on you..."

"No. I wanted to know how you were. You didn't drop anything on me, Skye. It's not a burden, ok?" Bailey interrupted.

"Ok. Thank you. Yeah, I remember."

"Well. It's kind of serious. I don't really know what to say." Bailey looked down, avoiding Skye's eyes. "I don't want today to be ruined. I don't want to ruin any day with this, but..." She took a deep breath. "The sooner I say it, the more ready the two of us will be for it."

"Am I supposed to be scared right now? Because I am."

"Skye, I have to move. Away from Cedar Cove. Away from Berry..." Bailey's eyes misted and her breath caught as she spoke. "I'm so sorry"

Suddenly, there was no sound. The arcades went quiet, the sounds of people talking dimmed until they were mute. Bailey was still apologising, but the sound struggled to reach Skye's ears. The whole world seemed as though it was losing its connection and Skye's senses suffered it alone. Midway through what Bailey was trying to get across, Skye grabbed her by the loose green shirt that hung loosely from her and pulled her in to a tight embrace. Bailey's hands rested on Skye's back, drawing small circles against her frame. It was too much. There wasn't anything to say to make this better. It was bad, and no amount of 'sorry' could make it better. It wasn't Bailey's fault, this clearly broke her heart too. After a few minutes of the two of them holding eachother as though they would be pulled apart this second if they dared to let go, Skye spoke up, softly.

"But... I need you. Please... don't." The words were strained in her throat and her arms tightened around the girl who was her only beacon in the dark that surrounded her life.

"Skye. I'm sorry, I didn't want..."

"PLEASE!" Skye screamed without a single thought of who would hear her. "Please...?" She cried.

-------------

TBC in the next chapter....

#choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #high school story class act #mc x skye #pixelberry #pixelberry fanfiction #skye crandall #skye x mc #skyexmc

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ocular-intercourse · 4 years

Text

wuh, seminar was good.

i mean, there were tech troubles OF COURSE cause when are there ever not, the second somebody wants to show something including an electronic device in any context stuff just.. refuses. but i expected as much, hoped for better, but i was not surprised. so we spent 30 minutes simply working on making the mics work for everybody, making sure that everybody could hear everybody, making sure everybody got the files....

so that completely ruined my timeline, i had 90 mins prepared and now i had to kinda shorten stuff on the fly. completely messed up giving them a break, whelp... but other than that, teaching was actually fun. can’t believe it. i DETESTED holding presentations in school or uni, there was nothing worse for me, but remove the face-to-face bit and it’s actually super good??? what.

had a bit of trouble with one attendee who was, uh, not quite up to speed. she had trouble downloading stuff from the cloud, she had trouble changing windows from the browser to the webinar application window, she somehow managed to join the meeting twice? so i had to mute one of “her” mics cause i heard everything she said twice.. i had to remote control her desktop for a bit and show how to change stuff, which i did prepare having to do, but did not imagine i’d have to use it for stuff like that. she was the only one who needed help with her exercise too, cause she started to change stuff she was not supposed to change. but hey, i guess those are things that realistically happen, so i’m glad i got to live through that at least once

one of my students was very talkative, she was the one who would generally answer questions while the other two were silent. i tried here and there to ask them stuff specifically, but they did not really want to interact, which is totally fine by me, personally, i hate calling on ppl that don’t answer by themselves, it’s something i hated in school and i don’t want to do it to other people, but my work coach (m) expected me to try and engage them a little. idk how i’ll do this in the future, i don’t think i’ll ever do that his way, of just forcing people to answer. his argument is that ppl have different ways of learning and some need to be included against their will and i’m like.. nah dude that’s their choice tbqh. idk if that makes me a bad teacher but generally, with gentle exceptions, i’d say students will only get out of my class what they are willing to put into it. it’s like therapy kinda. i can preach all i want, if they don’t act on it that’s on them, that’s kinda not really my responsibility, to a certain degree. of course i should try to motivate them but that’s about it. forcing ppl to do stuff won’t help with that imo.

got positive feedback from my students, they said it was fun to listen to me, my voice was very nice, i did a great job of putting the lecture together, i did a good job at helping them out and so on, one of them came to me after the class to tell me again how great she thought the seminar had been, that it had been the best seminar she had had in the institution so far (my work coach (m) who usually gives those was a little scandalized for a sec lol) and the first time she had managed to do all the exercises correctly (which is like.. THE most important compliment here honestly cause it means i succeeded at teaching her stuff)

also got mostly positive feedback from the work coaches, the female coach was not there during the seminar but she saw my handout and was amazed how much she could feel my heart and humor in it, that the written stuff and putting stuff together is really what i’m overwhelmingly good at. (seriously, this woman) main critique was that it was too much lecture between exercises, that i should cut some things, the interaction stuff, that i should just do a little reworking, some shortening, and try the whole thing again with a new group next thursday

i don’t really agree with some of it though. yeah sure there are definitely some things to cut, but he said i should not show them stuff that goes farther than the basics, and i just don’t think that’s a good idea. i feel like it’s much more motivating to actually learn and try stuff out if you get shown a couple of really cool things you can do with the application. sure a bunch of ppl will never use them and just need the basic tools but even to them i’ll at least show something more entertaining than just.. how to resize a picture. i think stuff like that is exactly why that one student told me she preferred my seminar over his’.

so now i’m just trying to find a way to streamline stuff without taking the fun out of it, and trying to implement the critique without going against what i think is good about the lecture, i don’t want to seem like i’m defying the coach, but i also don’t want to in- or exclude stuff i disagree with

anyways, so we’re doing a bunch of testing next week to see where the problem with the mics was, i’m gonna write up an instruction manual on how to deal with the applications we’re working with and that should all clear up some of the stuff that did not work out so well this time

over all they were very impressed by this being my first time teaching a class, i’m very relieved to hear that, if their critique at this point would not have considered that, i probably would not have handled that super well cause in my p.o.v. i should probably have been able to do this perfectly with no experience cause i’m that kind of gremlin, so that was a good thing to be reminded of, that it was good especially even though i had never done it before

so this is a great base now, i feel reassured but also know the weak points i need to work on. we’ll see how it will work with a different group of people. and if that goes well they want to try to let me hold the class from home (rn we’re still all in the same building but in different rooms to make troubleshooting easier)

#personal #adventures in lecturing

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 4 years

Text

ASM v5 #39/840 Thoughts

I actually disliked this.

The art was good. There were some funny bits. I liked the continuity nods. I liked Jonah getting into podcasting.

And that was all.

The thing I hated most here was Peter’s portrayal. He comes off as dumb and obtuse when he begins the podcast. His words were obviously going to provoke Jonah and he should’ve known that.

And then he was framed poorly for his past actions. Sure he made mistakes in the past but as he said, he was younger back then. Equally, whilst he wasn’t young, Jonah seriously crossed the line in Web #13 (referenced in this issue), prompting Spidey to threaten him. Peter was in the wrong and admitted that.

Jonah’s other jabs though are totally unearned. It’s in character for Jonah to make those jabs but I got the impression that it was reflecting Spencer’s own POV not just Jonah’s own.

The story frames Jonah’s early efforts as being a sincere effort to hold Spidey accountable and a logical suspicion born of his secrecy compared to the public heroes or the members of teams or schools.

This isn’t accurate because Jonah’s campaign against Spidey began when he had merely stopped Uncle Ben’s killer and was otherwise just a masked entertainer. It was born of jealousy and a desire to have his own son appreciated instead. Jonah has also held disdain for most other heroes not just Spider-Man as the story incorrectly claims. The X-Men after all have been feared and hated traditionally. The story brings up Spidey’s time with the Avengers but ignores how Jonah smeared them when Spidey joined. The story also claims Peter was fired from the Avengers in Superior Spider-Man. Which is true but he REJOINED them after that, leaving a second time later on. The story frames it as the Avengers fired him when Otto was in control and then never took him back thereafter.*

The story claims Spidey’s poor public relations are the reason half of the heroes dislike him following Fisk proclaiming them buddies. Honestly, as much as I like Spencer’s run, this really never made sense. Most of those heroes know Spidey personally and so would know he’d never be buddies with Fisk. Even Daredevil, despite no longer knowing Peter’s identity, would know better. So it’s a false thing to hinge a critique upon.

Similarly the idea of Peter never responding publicaly to Jonah’s critiques is unfair. Jonah was never going to listen. He wasn’t reasonable, he was libelous and had a HUGE vendetta against Spidey. Peter was a wanted vigilante who’d already had public opinion turned against him, not to mention he was desperate to support aunt May in the immediate aftermath of Ben’s death. Spencer claiming Spidey is in the wrong here is just incredibly unfair given the context. By the time Peter began to antagonize Jameson he’d met the man and could plainly see he had an agenda he wasn’t going to be swayed from. With no other outlet for cash (other papers asked way too many questions) Peter was stuck with Jonah. His antagonizing him was not necessarily warranted, but it also wasn’t going to make the situation worse for him. He knew Jonah had an axe to grind and that that was NEVER going to change.

Until Zdarsky’s run of course. Let’s talk about that. I hate Zdarsky’s run. I hate the issue he had Peter make the big reveal. I’ve spoken about that before. And as such I hate it’s reference here and the continual problem of Jonah not remembering the events of Civil War. This is especially frustrating when we consider that Spencer had Felicia regain her memories pre-mindwipe in ASM v5 #10. Yet he’s maintained Jonah’s lack of knowledge, including their confrontation back in FNSM v1 #23.

The issue also claims Peter doesn’t have a support network because he refuses to let Jonah help his PR efforts. But this is BS because we’ve seen he still has super hero buddies in and out of Spencer’s run.

Finally, I continue to be unimpressed by Chance and the Foreigner. They just seem thrown into the plot to provide some action and otherwise are completely unconnected to the central story. I like both villains but they are running their own little subplot that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with anything right now. I’m just not keen on reading that in ASM.

I can’t in good faith recommend this issue.

*Zdarsky also has Jonah claim everyone would’ve figured out Otto was an imposter if Peter had better communicated with people earlier in his career. This is again unfair because Peter had great reasons for maintaining privacy and more importantly Otto was aggressively unsubtle. Everyone SHOULD have been able to learn the truth and contrivance alone prevented it.

P.S. WTF was with that weird editorial box. PPTSSM vol. 6 #3??????

The editor got the numbers backwards. It’s Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man volume 3 #6!

That’s just sloppy.

#J. Jonah Jameson #Chance #Spider-Man #Amazing Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Nick Spencer #Iban Coello #Chip Zdarsky

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benevolent-dictator · 4 years

Text

Late Night Thoughts on Dan and Phil: Fond Memories and Little More

Before I get into the meat of this post, I want to include what I believe to be a critical preamble if one is to understand the bulk of this essay (and please understand, I use the term “essay” very loosely here. As you’ll quickly come to realize, it is more a haphazard collection of thoughts strung together in a more of less cohesive format). It’s important I lay out explicitly what this post is as opposed to what it is not: namely, the intent of this post is to act as a sort of analytical essay delineating my thoughts and opinions on the famous Youtubers Dan Howell’s and Amazingphil’s entertainment value rather than the merit of their characters themselves (and how I believe - for me personally - their entertainment value to have stagnated).

I feel this important to clarify because typically, when reading online analyses of internet personalities, critiques tend to fall into one of two camps: 1) value judgments placed upon a creator’s work/entertainment, or 2) value judgments placed upon a creator’s moral character. The perfect example of these two camps in action can be found in Lilly Singh and Jake Paul. Regardless of your own personal feelings surrounding the two online creators, I believe it fair to say the vast majority of criticism allotted to them illustrate the two camps rather nicely. For example, a not insignificant amount of people tend to dislike Lilly Singh for her lackluster entertainment value, i.e. the content she uploads to YouTube/broadcasts on her late night show. Although there does exist some backlash towards her standing as a moral actor (or lack thereof), when you enter her name into Youtube’s search feature, six out of the first ten recommended videos are all criticisms directed at how “unfunny” she is. Jake Paul, on the other hand, demonstrates the other school of thought: criticizing moral standing over entertainment value. Again, regardless of your personal views on Jake Paul’s character, it is undeniable that the vast majority of the backlash he receives centers around the immorality of his actions rather than how, “mundane” or “lackluster” his content. Therefore, I want to clarify that I am in no way attempting to use this post to discredit either Dan or Phil’s character. Instead, I wish to share my thoughts on their entertainment value as creators, and how - for me - I no longer find myself enchanted with their content.

Additionally, throughout the course of this post you’ll find that I often refer to Dan and Phil as a collective. I understand how this remains a point of contention throughout the fandom, for it remains a sad truth that oftentimes Phil (despite being his own autonomous individual/entertainer) gets lumped in with Dan who - in terms of subscriber count and sheer volume of fans - remains the more successful of the two. It is not my intent to relegate Phil to Dan’s shadow - rather, I find that many of the critiques I have for one cross-apply to the other, hence my frequent use of “Dan and Phil” instead of just Dan or just Phil.

Lastly, I would like to get ahead of the curve (should it ever arise) and placate the masses now while I have the opportunity. It is not my intent - and nor has it ever been my intent with any online criticisms - to disparage not only the creator, but their fans. I understand that there is still a thriving community of fans centered around the entertainment Dan and Phil put forth, and it is not my goal to shame anyone for their likes and preferences, or even to try to change your minds. This is not meant to be a persuasive essay: simply an analytical one (granted, one primarily propped up by my own biased opinions over statistical data, but I hope you are able to take the sum total of my assessments with a grain of salt and understand that just as you are welcome and encouraged to share your thoughts on the matter, I wish to be afforded that same generosity).

Now with that very important preamble out of the way (which, if you decided to skim, I would highly encourage you to go back and read it in full, for I believe it to have some rather crucial groundwork laid out) we can delve into the heart of the matter. In order to do so, I think it important to establish my background on this subject matter. Dan Howell was the first Youtuber I ever watched. I was still extremely new to YouTube as a platform at the time, and I remember scrolling through my homepage until I stumbled across a video titled, “Human Interaction.” From there, I was hooked. There really isn’t much to say from there; I immediately fell over myself watching video after video of his and, in the process, quickly discovered his flatmate Phil’s channel (or as we know him, Amazingphil). From the years 2013 to about late 2017 they were my all-time favorite Youtubers. As the years wore on I only subscribed to about ten other Youtubers because I felt so strongly that no other creator could capture the magic of what Dan and Phil uploaded. I watched all their videos, bought their merch, and, when the opportunity arose, even went to the Amazing Tour is Not on Fire. I still remember that night (seeing Dan and Phil burst on stage out of a giant prop microwave) as one of the happiest live-performance experiences of my life. My apathy towards both did not spring forth born out out of some heinous act either committed. Rather, it was a steady, almost innocuous decline. I feel as though I simply grew out of them. And here is where my first, and pretty much only real critique comes to light; both Dan and Phil’s content have remained stagnate.

Please do not misunderstand: I realize that Youtubers are real people, and to demand growth and change out of people who have arguably settled into who they want to be as adults would be rather unfair. Dan and Phil are not characters on a tv show - I don’t get to shake my fist at my laptop screen and gripe about “poor character arcs” or “slow seasons.” Dan and Phil are flesh and blood - they are not playing characters in a fictional universe. Sure, arguably all Youtubers (and any online persona) “put on a face” for the camera, but there’s a world of difference between, “forcing myself to be extra chipper for the next hour,” and acting out a character in a Hollywood writer’s script. On the one hand, there is a part of me that is happy Dan and Phil (after so many years of struggling with their identities) finally found happiness in themselves. However, if you’ll remember back to what I said in the preamble, that is not the point of this essay.

My apathy towards Dan and Phil lies not with their moral characters, but with their entertainment value, and for me personally, I find it hard to be entertained by what I find to be the same old content I was laughing at in 2013 repackaged into new scenarios and re-uploaded in 2020. Dan and Phil’s prize content was their ability to be so relatable. For Dan especially, I loved hearing him talk about how awkward he was around other people because that’s how I felt around the people in my own life. However, that did not last. I eventually grew out of my awkwardness and found a multitude of friends that I was able to be myself around, and in turn take that confidence I felt around them and project it onto others that came into my life, regardless of how well I knew them. Dan, as well as Phil, had lost the one thing that drew me to them in the first place: their ability to be relatable. Even so, during the latter half of the years during which I continued to watch their videos, there was something else that kept me around: their humor. I thought they were wonderfully funny, and even during my darkest hours I knew I could count on them to brighten my day. Yet, as the years I went by, I noticed that the subject matter of their humor remained pretty much the same as well. Most of their punchlines centered around the same handful of premises (for example, Dan joking about how black his soul is), and like I stated earlier, I had begun to grow tired of the stagnation.

One last time, I would like to recognize that what one person might call “stagnation” another would call “finding a niche,” and I respect that. Many people would argue that Dan and Phil simply stumbled across a specific niche years ago and have been fulfilling that hole glamorously nearly a decade later, and to that I say that’s wonderful! I think that’s a perfectly valid viewpoint to take! It just so happens that I do not share that same perspective.

One of the many indicators in which I feel you can physically see how unchanged their videos have become is in Phil’s (it’s hard to judge Dan’s progression since his last video was uploaded about a year ago as of this post’s uploading). As of mid-2020, Phil’s editing has remained largely unchanged. He still uses the same sound effects, the same visual cues, the same editing tools, and after nearly a decade of watching, I’ve just begun to find it all stale. Even his video concepts remain largely unchanged. I understand that if he’s uploading much of the same content over years that must mean he’s making the content he wants to make, and I am happy he’s reached that point, but it is not the content for me.

All in all, this was a terribly long post that I had considered writing for a while now, and regardless if anyone even reads it, I figure, “Hey - I’ve written it, it’s off my chest, and now I can finally rest in peace.” I no longer find Dan and Phil relatable for the person I have grown into. I in no way regret all the years I spent loving their content and laughing at their antics. But when you look at Dan’s Tweets from around 2014 to now and see that his jokes have remained fairly unvaried, as have Phil’s, I no longer feel a connection to the two as I once had. Lastly, I do want to say that these opinions of mine are not solidified. Yes, this is how I feel now, and it is how I’ve felt for quite some time, but please do not mistake my current stance for me digging my heels in the sand to declare, “No! I have sworn off Dan and Phil and I shall never partake in their content again!” No, of course not! I’m always open to change, and if Dan and Phil suddenly take an enjoyable creative turn, I’d be happy to take a look. And what’s more, I’m a sucker for nostalgia, so I can definitely see myself popping on YouTube to watch an old Dan video or two, or an old Phil video or two, or a gaming channel video or two, or whatever! They will always leave me with fond memories - memories I will take with me for years to come.

#Dan Howell #Phil Lester #Amazingphil #Dan and Phil #K's Long Essays

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

gold coloured prisms of light, chapter three (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 6462

AN: Third and final chapter. Thank you so much for all the sweet wonderful feedback on this fic. I enjoyed writing it so, so much, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart. Hope you enjoy this last instalment. Writ is the best beta <3

Brock is days away from his plane to LA to film season eleven of Drag Race and he’s never felt more harried in his life.

The past two weeks have been a haze of calls with designers, fittings, picking up garments, and trying not to think about the fact that he’s soon going to be filmed for national television.

It’s not that Brock’s a shy person, not really. He can work a crowd, he can entertain people and make them laugh especially if he has a drink in hand.

But he does it underneath his armour of drag, layers and layers of makeup and clothing and pads and tights and they make him feel indestructible when he has them on. Once all of it is stripped away, though?

He’s terrified of it.

How do you do it

Do what

Get people to like you so much

Make everyone fall in love with you

Pretty sure that’s just you falling in love with me, boo

No seriously

Why’re you asking

We’re gonna be on camera

Uh huh

Everyone’s gonna watch us

Uh huh

People we don’t even know

You bet

But you know what

You’re fucking weird but also the best

Anyone with a brain cell is going to love you

But what if they don’t

What if people think that he’s terrible, that he’s a failure, that he doesn’t deserve to be on this season? What if he fucks up and matches Jose by going home first this season?

So then fuck em

Who cares about the one percent that don’t

I don’t want your crazy ass to be listening to them

Focus on those who are louder and love you

‘Cause they the ones who are right

Not people with shitty opinions that match your inner sabotore

sabatoor

sabotour

Oh fuck it you know what I mean

Brock laughs despite himself, wishing that Jose was here with him instead of states away.

You did NOT just say inner saboteur

And what about it?

Brock pauses before his next question. Not because he doesn’t know how to ask it, but more so because he doesn’t know if he wants to find out what Jose’s answer is. But his planning, detail oriented side wins out the way that it always does.

Are we gonna tell everyone?

About what

Brock snorts but he gets it, really. Being able to talk to Jose feels so natural, so part of him that he can’t distinguish it from breathing or falling asleep, that he forgets that not everyone has it, that it’s not common knowledge. That soulmates aren’t universal for everyone.

That Jose is his.

I dunno

What do you think

I don’t know either

Do you think they would use it against us

Production would maybe

I dunno if the rest of the cast would care

What if they see it as an advantage

Call it cheating

Cheating how

I dunno

I just don’t want to lose the ability to talk to you y'know

Fuck

Me neither

I’d lose my damn mind not having you

Talking to my crazy self

I’d miss you too much

Brock’s heart tugs the way it always does when he has to leave Jose, when he doesn’t know when he’ll see him again. Even though soon they’ll be together in actual physical proximity, for an extended period of time.

At least, Brock hopes so because neither of them better go home first.

Brock’s just walked into the workroom for the first time and he’s scared shitless, but Jose is sitting there sparkling in glitter and beaming at him and the sight is enough to calm him down.

Nina’s bounding over to him, hugging him ever so tight. Brock is elated because he’s going to have Nina and Jose with him, and maybe the idea of being on national television is less scary when people closest to him are by his side.

Brock’s arms seek Jose out almost unconsciously, Jose fitting there like he’s always meant to, and Brock has to resist pressing a kiss to the top of his head what with three cameras filming them at one time.

A’keria’s looking between the two of them with a curious expression when Jose’s hand stays on his thigh as they sit around a table, and Brock can’t help but put his hand on top of his.

It feels weird as the day goes on, having to pretend like he doesn’t know every inch of Jose better than he knows himself. Pretending Jose is just a cute acquaintance when production asks Brock what he thinks of him as they’re filming confessionals. Part of him wants to scream it out to the world, have everyone know. But on the other hand it feels like they’re back in high school, sneaking around and kissing behind the bleachers. They are, in a way, based on how Jose tugs him into a bathroom stall and pulls him close, both of them breathless and wide eyed and giggling.

“This is already miles ahead of season ten.”

“Why, ‘cause you haven’t gone home first yet?”

“Bitch.” Jose smacks Brock’s arm and it makes him cackle. “It’s still day one.”

“We’re both gonna keep going way past the first episode.” Brock cups Jose’s face with his palm, his thumb running across his cheekbone, almost forgetting that they’re cooped up in a bathroom stall. “Till we lip-sync for that crown and I beat you for that 100k check. I’ll dance all around your pirouetting ass.” Jose grins and it’s so bright, so radiant, so perfectly him.

“You wish.” Brock ruffles his hair, grinning when it makes Jose grumble. “Though I’ll be sure to stay out of the way of your flailing limbs.”

What a sight it will be if the two of them make it to the end. Brock doesn’t ever, ever want to lip-sync against Jose in a competition setting unless the two of them are lip-syncing for the crown. He’s not sure if his heart would be able to take the damage.

Brock’s on the main stage and looking like a neon superhero and he fucking feels like one too, because he’s just won the first main challenge.

He’s won. He’s actually won.

The five year old inside of Brock wants to dance around while his pageant side reins him in and holds him back, keeps him looking composed on the main stage. Besides, Ru’s looking at him and Michelle’s looking at him and Miley Cyrus is looking at her cuticles but he needs to remain poised, or Farrah will absolutely ream him out for it later.

Not only that, Jose’s been called safe.

Brock’s still here. Jose’s still here. He’s going to get more days with him in this weird little filming bubble that is already making him lose his perception of reality, and it’s only been a couple of days.

Jose pulls Brock to the smoking area as soon as the cameras call cut and they get a break, while production goes to film Soju going home.

He’s the prettiest girl Brock’s ever seen, a red flower crown on his head and glittering like he’s a star on fire. Jose looks like the world’s been lifted from his shoulders and Brock gets it, years and years of being Jose’s soulmate makes him feel Jose’s relief, Jose’s elation that he’s still here, he’s on to episode two.

“Y’know, I’m still mad as hell they sent me home first last season but being here right now? Feels like the best type of revenge.” Jose rubs his hands together and Brock has to hold back a laugh.

“Revenge against who?”

Jose shrugs. “I dunno. Just feels fucking great.” He straightens up, taps Brock’s shoulder. “Also, you! Winning the first challenge and getting a first class ticket straight to Paris, bitch!”

Brock can’t help himself, he wiggles his hands around excitedly because he’s been holding it in, damn it, and Jose won’t judge him for it. “I still can’t believe it.”

“You better take me to Paris with you. I want some fresh croissants.”

Brock hasn’t even thought about yet about who he’ll bring with him, but seven days in Paris with Jose seems like a dream. He’s gonna draw it out for Jose, though. “I’ll bring you if you’re good.”

Jose pouts and Brock has to resist the urge to kiss him, ruin both of their lipsticks. “I’m real good.”

Brock grins, unable to resist the hand he lets drift above Jose’s hipbone, making him shiver. “Are you, now?”

He’s about to grip him more tightly, do something incredibly stupid, but then production’s yelling out ‘five minutes!’ and they jump backwards from each other, looking around to see if anyone’s caught them.

Not yet. Their secret remains safe, for now.

Brock is in a highlighter orange jumpsuit and he feels like a helicopter, hovering and tutting over Jose who’s spiralling down and down and down.

Brock doesn’t know what to do when there’s cameras watching their every move, and every part of him just wants to pull Jose in close and tight to his chest and whisper just how amazing he is into his ear.

Jose’s shoulders are slumped, his fake lashes cast to the ground and Brock can’t help but put his fingers under Jose’s chin, lift his face up towards him.

Brock waits until Tiffany Pollard comes backstage and the rest of the cast is squealing over her, his heart hurting over the fact that Jose would absolutely be joining them if he wasn’t so upset right now. He grabs Jose’s hand while the cameras are all trained on the Untucked couches, pulls him behind a set backdrop and turns off their mics.

Jose looks up at him, confused. “What are you-”

“Shhh.” Brock holds up a finger to his lips, replies in a whisper. “Don’t want them to catch us.”

“Right.” Jose’s trying to whisper, he really is, bless his heart, not that he’s being successful at all.

Not that Brock really minds too much.

“You were better than most of those girls up there, in my eyes.” He’s going to tell Jose over and over again, lift the veil of self hatred and disappointment that seems to be marring Jose’s being over his own performance in Trump: The Rusical. “And the judges gave you better critiques than Mercedes and Ra’jah. They’re going to call you as safe.”

“Wish I was as confident in that as you are.” Jose’s laugh is humourless. “I can’t go home yet. I fucking can’t be a disappointment again.”

“You were the biggest name on season ten. Hands down. How is that a disappointment?” Brock doesn’t get it, because Jose’s successful and winning at the game of being a famous drag queen and Brock could really pick up some tips from him.

“‘Cause I’m not good at this.” Jose gestures to himself, to his outfit. “I can be a headass and make people laugh but I’m bombing all these damn challenges.”

“You’re not bombing them.” Maybe Brock sounds a little indignant but Jose is wrong, he is. “Literally the challenge before this episode. The diva worship one. You killed it.”

“And yet, still safe. I dunno what it’s gonna take. Gonna have to pull a bunny out of a hat at this point.” Jose grumbles but the image makes Brock laugh.

“That’s one way to do a lip-sync reveal.” Brock nudges Jose’s side, sees the little smile peeking out on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Speaking of romance, where’d they go, disappearin’ again? We know you two be hiding!” A’keria’s yelling and all of the other castmates are cackling along with her, and Brock can hear Tiffany Pollard’s voice letting out an ominous Miss Vaaaanjie.

Jose lets out a little huff. “So damn nosy-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentiment because A’keria’s tugging on both of their hands, pulling them over to the couch. Brock kisses Jose in front of the rest of the girls because they’re all goading them on and the shrieks they let out makes Brock wonder how they’d react if they found out that him and Jose are soulmates.

Jose’s drawings show up in orange ink on Brock’s skin that night, matching the runway theme and the way Brock’s own heart feels like it’s bathed in warm sunlight.

Brock is trapped in a hotel room and he feels restless.

He wants to do something. Anything. Go for a walk, run some errands, but the door of his hotel room has been taped over and he’s not allowed to leave.

It’s 11:47 p.m., and Brock knows that he should probably sleep, considering that they’re all going to be up early to head to filming and he still needs to finish putting his final Farm to Runway look together.

Hell, he’d even rather work on his look than be pacing in the tiny room, like he is right now.

Psst

I’m bored

Brock feels like a child passing notes in grade school, bothering his best friend while he tries to pay attention to the teacher.

What do you want me to do about it

Give me something to do about it

I’m working on my squats

What? You are NOT

Really?

How else do you think I keep my booty looking so tight

Jesus Christ

Though Jose isn’t wrong. It is a great butt, and one that Brock misses, quite frankly. The fact that him and Jose are both in hotel rooms, but separate ones so that they can’t even do anything about it, is ridiculous.

I do know something that can keep you entertained though

What

Brock watches as the cartoon outline of a dick appears on his chest and he can practically hear Jose’s cackle in whatever hotel room he’s in.

A second one appears on his thigh, then a third on his bicep, and he can’t help but snort.

You having fun

Plenty fun thanks for asking

I’ll leave you to it then

Have fun washing these off

BITCH come back

Miss me already huh

I know you miss me too don’t be playing

I do

But you seem to be having fun with your doodles, I’ll let you do that

Boy if you don’t-

You just like being a tease

What you gonna do about it

Leave you to it

Don’t you dare

Why, do you want something else?

Sure, Brock is alone in his hotel room, but he can’t help the shit eating grin that grows on his face. He knows that Jose isn’t going to be able to resist something so blatant.

I want you

You’ll have to be more specific than that

Brock can almost imagine the way that Jose must be muttering bitch under his breath, getting antsier by the second. Hell, he knows that he is himself.

Fuck

I miss you fucking me

Filling me up

Pinning me down

Brock unbuttons his pants, pulls out his dick and he has to resist a groan, because fuck, now he’s thinking about it and it’s been too long, he needs it now. He drops all pretenses of teasing Jose, because his self control is all but gone.

I wanna bend you over the counter like last time

Remember how whiny you were

I had to punish you because you were misbehaving so much

Fuck

I know you liked it a little too much

Please

Next time

You want me to fuck you again like that, baby?

Yes daddy

Brock can already feel how close he is and he has to bite his lip, keep himself on the edge, because the nickname is about to send him over it. Jose brings it out from time to time and Brock likes it more than he wants to admit, a fact that Jose knows well.

I’ll keep your hips down against the counter, get you so close that you almost come

Pull back because you’re not begging enough

Get you so close

Please please please

I’ll wait till your voice is all raw from begging ‘cause you want it so bad

Then fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week

Fuck daddy

All the neighbours will know what I’m doing to you ‘cause you can never stay quiet, can you

Good

Let them know

Brock’s grip on his pen is shaky as he comes all over his own stomach, letting out a breathless moan as he strokes himself through it with his other hand because he’s spent and fuck, they’ve never done it like this before.

Jose takes a full two minutes before he replies, and Brock knows it’s because he just came, too.

Fuck

Jesus christ

God I miss your ass

My ass, huh?

You know what I mean bitch

Brock’s just done one of the best lip-syncs in Drag Race herstory and his pink sequin outfit is too tight, way too tight. The layers and layers of tights and fabric and padding are restricting, stopping him from being able to breathe, from filling up his lungs the way he so desperately needs to.

It’s different from the way he’d been out of breath during the lip-sync, where the exertion as he put everything he had into his performance made his heart beat faster and faster and faster, his lungs working overtime. Now there’s no reason for them to continue like this, not when the cameras have stopped filming, not when they’re supposed to be getting out of drag so they can head back to the hotel.

But Brock cant focus on getting out of drag. It’s too much, too much of a task to apply his brain towards, especially when the most he’s able to do right now is lean against a wall, trying to focus his vision on the ground in front of him, looking at the patterns on the floor tiles.

He feels fingers intertwine with his, looking up and there’s Jose already in his boy clothes, his eyes soft and kind and worried. Brock doesn’t want to make him worry, because it doesn’t matter, not really, he’s survived the lip-sync and he’s fine, he should be.

“I’m fine.” Brock musters up a smile on his face, one to reassure Jose though Jose doesn’t seem to buy it, his thumb running in soft circles over Brock’s palm.

“It’s okay if you’re not, y’know.” Jose’s voice is soft and Brock doesn’t hear it like this often, though when he does it’s almost always directed towards him. A part of him likes it, that this small part of Jose is just for him to hear.

“It doesn’t matter. I survived that lip sync, I’ll live another episode.” It’s true, he did. He’s made it through and yes, he’s relieved, but he’s also exhausted all of his reserves. It feels like the day has been a battle, one that’s left him worse for wear.

But he doesn’t want Jose to worry.

Jose helps him get out of drag just like he did the first night that they’d met in person, while the rest of the girls are fooling around in other areas of the work room, barely paying attention to the two of them. He’s gentle, pulling off Brock’s wig cap and lashes and layers and layers of tights and padding on his body. He pushes Brock to sit down on a chair in front of the mirror, leaning against the counter as he wipes Brock’s face clean of foundation and contour and powder.

Jose presses a kiss to Brock’s lips when he’s done, and Brock feels lighter, less constricted, though his heart is aching for Jose in a way that’s going to bowl him over when he thinks about it too much.

For someone so outgoing and vocal and loud, Jose knows how to calm him down in the way he needs it the most. Without too many words, without overt reassurances or distraction tactics. Just being there, both in gentle touches and deep pressure and helping Brock get through actions that seem insurmountable, one step at a time without even asking.

Brock’s not sure if anyone else has ever done this for him before. Then again, there’s never been anyone else like Jose in his life, nor will there ever be. Brock knows that for certain.

Brock is lip-syncing against his soulmate and sure, the song’s at the bridge, but he hasn’t quite processed it yet. His brain is foggy but he’s going to focus, damn it, he’s going to perform the hell out of this song.

Even if looking over at Jose makes his heart skip a beat for just a second, makes him almost trip over his own heels.

The song ends and Brock’s breathing in gasps, because of course, of course they were meant to lip-sync against each other, of course they were. Brock had told Jose, he really did, backstage in Untucked because production would have never let go of the chance to have the star crossed lovers face off against each other in the final moments. Not with such a juicy storyline.

The best part is that the producers don’t even know the half of it. It gives Brock a strange sense of satisfaction, that not everything belongs to the producers to manipulate between him and Jose. They don’t deserve the chance to be able to do so.

Brock’s name is called to stay and it doesn’t give him the relief that he so desperately wants, because they both deserve to stay and Jose can’t leave and why, why was there already a double save earlier in the season?

He grabs Jose’s face and kisses him hard - who cares that they’re in drag, that they have lipstick on, that they’re being filmed, that this is the epic, thrilling conclusion to a love story that the producers want to craft to satisfy an adoring public? It doesn’t matter, because there’s so much that Brock wants to say (I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, please wait for me, please don’t leave) that he can’t. Not right now, not in front of everyone.

Jose’s never been in his hotel room for filming, but it still feels a little empty when Brock returns to it that evening. His bed a little too big, the four walls surrounding him a little too quiet.

Already home

Goddamn

Living in LA is convenint

Conveenent

Convenient as hell

Come back

I miss you

Brock’s not a clingy sort of person by any means, but he can’t stop his heart’s tug for Jose no matter how hard he tries.

Miss you so fucking much

Hurry and finish up filming so you can come here and hang out with me and Riley

Imma go grocery shopping and get snacks

What do you want

The words make Brock laugh despite himself, because the domesticity flows so naturally between them, as if they’re just two regular people coming home from work.

Get those salt and vinegar chips you had when I came to visit in February

You still remember snacks from February?

They were good!!

They don’t have them in Nashville

That makes you sound like a country bumpkin

Hey, I’m from Toronto

Yeah yeah, a country bumpkin in a parka

The rays of sunlight begin to light up the room as the hours go on, and ink fills up Brock’s skin that he’s going to have a hell of a time washing off. Brock’s barely gotten any sleep because why would he, when talking to Jose is so much more fun? He knows he’s going to be exhausted in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to care. Because Jose’s still here with him, Jose still cares and isn’t mad about the lip-sync and they’re still them, complete with all the nonsense and softness that always calms his heart without fail.

Jose yells at him through big capital letters along his side to GO TO SLEEP, BITCH, and Brock wishes that he had Jose in his arms to help him do so.

Brock’s still in his glittering mirrored jumpsuit from the final finale lip-sync, the cameras just having called cut, when his mom taps his shoulder.

“The one in the cheetah print. It’s him, right?” His mom’s eyes are all knowing, too knowing, and Brock should have expected it, really.

“Who?” Still, Brock’s voice is squeaky. Just the way it always is when his mother brings up things that he doesn’t want to talk about with her, because they make him feel like he’s twelve and vulnerable again.

“That one’s your soulmate. I’m your mother. I can tell.”

Jose is hugging his own mom and introducing her to Silky and A’keria and laughing his head off, causing a commotion that is making the others around them look over with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Brock’s been trying, so desperately trying, to let his mother in more. Even when he could see the hesitation in her eyes when he first came out (despite the fact that she had already known), even when he’d told her that he’d started drag and she didn’t understand it in the least.

But the last couple of years, his mother has been trying. Brock can see it.

And so he will, too.

He grabs Jose’s arm when he passes by, pulling him into the conversation. Jose’s face is bright and happy and his eyes widen in understanding when he sees the woman in front of him.

“Mom, this is Jose.”

Then Jose’s making her light up and laugh with his natural charm and part of Brock almost can’t believe it, that this is his life. That his mother is meeting his soulmate, that his mother doesn’t hate him, that his mother has changed from the way that she used to be. The way she used to make twelve year old Brock want to shrink in on himself, hating himself, wanting to hide everything precious to him.

Brock wishes that he could go back in time to that version of himself, hold his hand, pull him into a hug. Tell him that everything will be alright, that he’ll find Jose in real life, that his mother will be okay with it and that he’s going to feel like he has a family again. It’ll look different from the one he has now, but it’ll be better. Full of more love.

Brock remembers himself at twelve, when the marker in his pocket felt like a secret he had to hide rather than one he could freely talk about. He’d had no idea what would be coming for him in the future.

Seeing Jose and his mother get along, laugh together as his mom squeezes Jose’s hand, is a sight that Brock is going to commit to memory.

Brock has an arm around Jose while they wait for production to finish up last-minute adjustments to the reunion set, and he’s antsy.

“Do you think we should?”

“You’ve asked me like fifty times in the last minute, and I still don’t know.”

Brock fidgets. “Sorry.”

Jose turns around in his grasp. “Don’t stress, okay? We’ll know what to say once we’re up there and they ask us. We can decide if we wanna say it in the moment.”

Him and Jose still haven’t decided whether they’re going to tell everyone about being soulmates. Nina knows, naturally, having seen drawings on Brock’s skin since before they filmed Drag Race. Silky and A’keria know, which made them approve of Brock a lot quicker.

But everyone else?

The rest of the cast doesn’t. Production doesn’t. Hell, Ru doesn’t.

They’d managed to get through the entire season by meticulously keeping their bodies ink free before having to wear revealing outfits, being careful about where they wrote and drew.

But at the same time, the game is over. The season is done. They’ve already filmed the finale, and Brock has an idea of where it’s going to go, anyway.

He has nothing to lose. They have nothing to lose. Besides, he wants to scream it from the rooftops, Jose is his soulmate, Jose is his soulmate.

Brock’s made up his mind as soon as the cameras start rolling, but Jose is the one who lets it slip.

“So, how did this all get started?” Ru is looking between the two of them, and A’keria and Silky are smirking, and Jose whips out a marker from who knows where, a grin on his face.

“Contrary to what y’all thinking, it didn’t start on season eleven. Watch this.” Jose pauses, looking at Brock like he’s almost asking permission, and Brock nods, because why not?

The gasps from Ru and the rest of the girls and the cameramen when Jose draws a star on his hand that shows up on Brock’s makes it worth it.

It’s the first time that Brock’s ever seen Ru speechless, the cue cards in his hands rendered useless, the questions that he’d been planning to ask no longer relevant.

“You’re-you’re soulmates?” Ru’s looking back to the producers behind the cameras, almost asking if they knew, if this was planned.

But the producers shrug back, and it’s more satisfying than Brock wants to admit.

They’ve done it on their own terms, the way it should be.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids.” It feels strange to Brock, being able to talk about it, but the rest of the cast is quiet, attentive. Listening. “We didn’t meet in person until we were in our twenties, but Vanjie was worth the wait.”

The cast awws and even Ru looks a little bit less shell shocked. Jose, for his part, is preening, his face lit up in happiness, and Brock’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Some could call that an unfair advantage, you know,” Ru points between the two of them, “being able to talk to each other whenever you wanted to.”

Jose shrugs. “Hey, we were never on the same teams, what would we be using spy tactics for? Ain’t no point to that.”

Ru’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out something else to say, when Scarlet pipes up from behind them in a dreamy voice. “That’s so romantic. You’re both living a fairytale.”

Brock snorts. Regardless of what others say, he’s glad it’s out in the open.

Sure, Brock’s a private person. But if the public is hanging on to every last detail of their relationship, he’s happy he gets to share his favourite part about it.

Brock is in a random town in Arizona for a gig and he’s tired.

He knows that he has to capitalize on his first year after being on Drag Race, make all the coins he can before everything dries up. But being consistently on the road is wearing him down, the constant new faces and the same questions being asked over and over again before he performs the same numbers, because he’s too damn exhausted to learn anything else.

He makes small talk with the local queens, plasters a smile on his face because he remembers being in that position, and that it pays to be nice. But it’s draining, and he wishes he could be home instead, the cats and Jose by his side.

He doesn’t even know where home is anymore. Not Nashville, not really. Not Toronto, not anymore.

But the word home makes him think of Jose’s laugh and Jose snuggling into his side and Jose making him a cup of tea when he’s too antsy. It makes him think of Jose’s grip on him tightening when he’s about to come, swear words that leave Jose’s mouth echoing in his ears. Home is the way that he greets Jose at the airport, or when they step into each others apartments, no longer having to rely only on Sharpies to feel like they’re in the same place.

He’s in an Uber to the airport at 3 a.m. because he has another gig the next day when words appear on his forearm that make him pause.

Move in with me

Brock please

I miss you

The words tug on his heart, crush it into small pieces because Brock misses him too, and wants nothing more than to be with him all the time. He doesn’t know how they survived so long without meeting in person. He’s not sure if he’d ever be able to go that long again.

The idea comes to him before he’s even pulled his Sharpie out from his bag.

Sure, he’d been planning to do it properly, plan something nice because he knows Jose likes that sort of thing, but he needs to ask now. Needs to know.

Because really, would there ever be any other option for them?

I’ll do you one better

????

Marry me

Brock’s hand is shaking, because fuck, he’s just asked his soulmate to marry him and he hasn’t replied yet and what if Jose isn’t on the same page at all and-

You asshole

Of course I will yes

But you better get me a proper ring

Brock’s laugh comes out half like a sob, and his Uber driver is curiously looking at him in the rearview mirror but he doesn’t care.

You know I will

Had to make sure you wanted to first

Bitch

Duh

Can’t believe it took you so long to ask

You could have easily asked me, y’know

Nah

Knew your ass likes to be the kind to do that shit

More that your ass is the kind that likes being proposed to, let’s be real

And???

Brock laughs because he can fully picture Jose’s grin, his indignation as he writes back. His Uber stops at the departure gate at the small airport and he has to unload his bags, his heart feeling like it’s already flying, because Jose said yes, Jose said yes.

A doodle of a wedding band appears on his finger as he’s going through security, and Brock never wants Jose to ever wash it off of his own hand.

Brock remembers being seventeen, seeing one of his older sisters show up to Thanksgiving dinner with a ring on her finger and her fiance in tow. A part of him had felt his heart flip in his chest, wondering if it would happen for him, when it would happen for him.

If it would be Jose who would have a matching ring on his finger.

And now, more than ten years later? He’s going to have one.

Brock’s in a tux and it’s tugging on him in weird places but he’s never been happier in his life.

He looks around the tent in which their wedding reception is taking place. His mother and his sisters and his nieces and nephews are here, their close friends are here, as are countless queens that have become family to him over the past decade or so.

He swears that Farrah tears up while giving her speech, though she’ll never admit it when Brock asks her about it later.

Jose is glowing as he sits with his own mom, her arm around him and they both look so happy. He sees Jose’s family that’s he’s gotten to know by name, and he wishes that he’d gotten to meet Jose’s abuela, the one that he’d heard about when they were kids.

There’s people missing from the wedding, people that both him and Jose desperately wanted to have there, but Brock supposes that that’s life.

He has a real wedding band on his finger now, and he never wants to take it off. A piece of him that’s also a piece of Jose, a commitment.

When Brock was younger, he’d wondered how soulmates worked. How they’d be together forever. Then he’d seen his own parents fall apart, seen how his mom became so much happier without his father. The way she’d done better without hers.

Brock gets it now. Soulmates aren’t the be all, end all. Soulmates still require effort, solving problems together, weathering through storms that threaten to ruin everything only to come out the other side a lot more stronger.

They’re going to have to try to work on it. They’re still going to tour and be away from each other, the way they’ve been for the last couple years, but it’s okay, it is. Because it’s not forever.

They’re capitalizing on their careers and getting their fill now and experiencing everything now while still getting to share it with each other through stories written along their skin.

He gets to keep sharing things with Jose, forever, if he wants to. His husband.

They’re going to be the soulmates that the stories talk about, the ones that work out, in the end. Brock knows it.

Brock takes another sip of his wine when a niece and nephew run up to him, the tiny tux and flower girl dress making him melt.

His niece crosses her arms. “Liam said- ”

“-I didn’t say, Emma said it-”

“-that you and Uncle Jose can write to each other. I think they’re lying.” His niece raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and Brock wonders whether he was ever that rambunctious at six years old.

Nonetheless, he pulls out a Sharpie from his pocket, turns his hand over. “Watch this.”

He draws a smiley face, their customary smiley face, and has to hold a laugh back at the sight of his niece and nephew whipping their head over to look at Jose, to peek at his hand. They leave him, running over to where Jose’s standing and interrupting his conversation with his cousins to turn his hand over.

“Emma was right!”

“No way!”

Jose’s holding back a laugh at their astonishment and he looks over at Brock, the raised eyebrow and the soft smile on his face enough to make Brock’s heart all warm.

His niece and nephew run back, grabbing Brock’s arm.

“Write more, write more.” His nephew is practically spinning around.

His niece’s brow is furrowed. “But how?”

“Soulmates.” Brock nudges her shoulder. “Hey, maybe you’ll have one, too.”

His niece wrinkles her nose. “I hope it’s not a boy like yours.”

When she comes to him and Jose a couple years later with writing on her arms and a million questions to go with it, they don’t have all of the answers to give to her. Hell, he and Jose still don’t even have all the answers for themselves, but there’s one piece of advice that Brock says to her.

“Start with your name,” Brock hands her a Sharpie from the kitchen table, like the many that are scattered around their shared apartment, and laughs as she uncaps the marker enthusiastically with her teeth. “And everything will fall into place.”

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #canon compliant #soulmate au #holtzmanns #gold coloured prisms of light

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