#but i suppose the whole point of tumblr is to find people with equally embarrassing interests as you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jimlingss · 3 years

Note

(sorry my tumblr app glitched so im not sure if this was sent twice) taking a chance for the requests! how about a seokjin or namjoon arranged marriage au with this: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 🎄 happy holidays!!

↳ Playground Promises

1.9k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

The bell rings.

Moments later, children are sprinting from the doors and flooding the playground. You watch in fondness as some climb the monkey bars while others sit and dig into the sandbox. All of them were forging their first friendships they’ll remember forever and you were their witness.

This is one of your favourite times of day. You enjoy seeing the kids have their fun, listening to their laughter and giggles, watching their games of tag to play pretend. But today, your enjoyment is interrupted by a certain male teacher that comes to stand behind you.

Tall. Dark. And handsome. His broad shoulders carry the weight of the third-grade class and practically the entire elementary school. But you’d never admit that out loud.

“It’s a bit chilly out today. You should’ve brought your coat with you.”

You hum.

Every staff member, married and single, swoons over Kim Seokjin. It’s hard not to. But if others knew what your relationship was with him, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. The kids would make a big fuss and so would all the staff and faculty, and you’d rather avoid that.

“I didn’t know you were on playground duty today.”

“I switched with Sana,” he says and leans over to smile. “Thought you could use some company.”

You scoff. “She’s perfectly fine company.”

The corner of his plump lip pulls. “If you want to talk about the mathletes program. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

Before you can respond, a boy approaches the two of you with pink cheeks and wind-swept hair. “Mr. Kim, can I go to the bathroom?” the third-grader asks in the midst of catching his breath and the older man nods.

“Go ahead. But don’t run in the hallway, Lucas.”

Said boy grins and dashes off.

Seokjin turns to you and lowers his voice. “My mom’s been asking about the kids.”

Your brows furrow. “Why? They’re a good bunch.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your class’ kids, I mean our kids.”

You blink owlishly. “There are no our kids.”

“That’s the problem.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Wasn’t getting married enough for them?”

Seokjin shrugs with a faint, mischievous smile. “They want to go out for brunch with your parents this Sunday. Are you free?”

“When am I not free?” you retort lightly, but slip your phone out of your pocket to check your calendar anyhow. Seokjin glances over to your screen and once you finish, you slip it back into your pocket. “I have some marking to do, but I’ll probably finish by then.”

“Okay.” The pair of you turn back to continue monitoring the children playing and you’re glad to revel in the silence that’s been created between you. But after a beat, Kim Seokjin pipes up again. You don’t know why you’re surprised. He’s quite the talkative guy. “Hey, Y/N.”

You look over and he meets your eye.

He asks, “Am I your lock screen?”

Your face heats. If you were once cold, now you were warm from head to toe. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mumble. It was just a picture from the other day and you wanted to change things up on your phone. You had nothing else to use. It was convenient. That’s it.

Your entire relationship with him is built on convenience. At least...on his side it is.

Still, Seokjin grins and fortunately, he doesn’t tease.

You rush to change the subject. “A-Anyway, yeah, Sunday works for me. But we should probably talk about this after work.”

“Why? No one’s around.” His smile is spread from ear to ear and he leans in, whispering, “Are you that scared of people finding out we’re married?”

Immediately, you whip your head in all directions. Luckily, there’s no kid or nosy faculty member. You turn back to him, glaring. “I already said, I like to keep my private life under wraps.”

“I remember. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were embarrassed of me.”

You scoff and a murmur unintentionally spills out of you, “That’s impossible.”

You don’t notice Seokjin’s smile.

It’s been three months since you got married. It was a summer wedding. More importantly, it was an arranged marriage. And not because you were both wealthy and needed to be wedded to get the inheritance under some arbitrary contract rule or because it was your grandmother’s dying wish. No. You live a much more mundane, normal life than the dramas, movies and books.

It was your mom who threw a fuss. She was scared you’d be alone and unmarried, an old maid like your aunt — you didn’t say it, she just heavily implied it. But following her practically senile meltdown, you agreed. Partly to appease her worries and partly just out of curiosity.

You always wanted to get married. And deep down, you always wanted your own kids. But at the rate you were going, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to meet someone on your own.

What you didn’t expect on that blind date was for the other person to be Kim Seokjin, third grade teacher. Down the hall from you at the school. Someone across the room every lunchtime. Your dads were apparently long time colleagues, but Jin was still as equally shocked as you were during that first meeting. Yet, he easily agreed to getting married when you brought it up. Even when it was only after two months of occasionally seeing one another outside of your workplaces.

You still don’t know why he said yes.

“Ms. L/N!”

You’re torn out of your trance by a little girl at your knees.

She pouts. “Jennie won’t let me play on the slide!”

“Did you ask her to share?”

“Yes!”

Before any more can be said, she drags you over and Seokjin trails after you. There’s another girl with brown braided hair climbing on the slide, and she swivels her head over as the two of you approach, eyes the size of saucers.

“Are you taking turns, Jennie?” you ask her, and she vigorously nods.

“I am!”

“Well, you’ve been on it for a while. How about Lisa takes a turn next.”

“Okay,” she draws out and gets off of the slide before turning to her friend. “Here you go.”

It’s always little problems you have to solve — from sharing to knee scrapes and monkey bar accidents. Sometimes it’s difficult for the children to compromise, difficult for them to apologize and difficult for you to find a good solution. But you undoubtedly wish your own issues were this simple.

While you’re stuck in your thoughts, you miss Jin watching you fondly.

“You’re good with kids,” he says as you move out of the way of running children and walk back to the perimeter.

“I wouldn’t be doing this job if I wasn’t. But I deal with older kids much better.” There’s a reason you teach fifth graders and not any lower than that. Seokjin knows it too.

“Remember when we had to supervise that kindergarten class together?”

You shudder. “It was a nightmare.”

“You weren’t that bad,” he tries to say but then laughs. You feign a glare, and he adds on, “Okay. I’m sorry, but I still mean it. It’s not as terrible as you thought. You’d make a good mom.”

At that, your glare vanishes in favour of furrowing brows. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t help it when curiosity pries — so you break your own rule against discussing private matters at work.

“Do you want my kids?”

Seokjin is wide-eyed and he turns to you. “Why not? We’re married.”

“Yeah….but…”

“But? Do you not want kids?”

“No! I definitely want them,” you declare, almost a bit too boldly. He nods and you explain, “It’s just...I don’t know if you’re serious.”

Seokjin blinks. “I’m being perfectly serious.”

“I mean I don’t know if we’re serious.” You add, “Enough to have kids.”

“What’s more serious than being married?” Jin has a genuinely inquisitive and amused expression, head quirked to the side.

You inhale a sharp breath and his gaze coaxes you to go on, so you do. “It’s just that you agreed so quickly to be married to me. It doesn’t….feel real. I don’t know if you wanted to marry me, if you did it on a whim, if this is some kind of joke—”

He frowns. “This isn’t a joke, Y/N. I wanted to marry you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Your eyes are rounded.

“Wh—”

“Mrs. L/N!” You’re interrupted by your fifth-grader, Park Jimin. He sprints to you, huffing and puffing, before leaning his hands onto his knees to catch his breath. “Have you seen Taehyung?! We’re playing tag!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Jin suddenly points to the left. “He went that way.”

Jimin books it.

Silence fills the spaces between you and Seokjin again, but it isn’t like normal. It’s filled with unanswered questions and the suspenseful cliffhanger of an unfinished conversation. The laughter of kids on the playground and field resound around you, but for the first time, you don’t listen to it.

It fades into the background as you turn to Seokjin, wanting to know more. “What did you just say?”

The man smiles softly. “You have to know.”

“I don’t,” you assert. “So tell me.”

“I’ve always liked you.”

You blink and he continues, “Since you substituted for the art teacher and I saw you squirt red paint all over yourself. It’s something I couldn’t forget. Plus, the way you draw those stick people.” Seokjin laughs heartily and you’re trapped in your spot, unsure of how to react or what to say. He reads your expression and softens. “Did you really think I would rush into a marriage if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“I…” Your mouth is agape. “I don’t know. Why did we never talk about this?”

Seokjin shrugs. “You never asked and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same way. I knew you married me for convenience.”

“That’s not true,” you retort within a beat. This whole time, you thought he married you for convenience sake. But it wasn’t entirely like that for you.

Seokjin’s eyes are big and you swallow down your embarrassment. “Isn’t it obvious every single breathing person loves you? It’s hard not to.”

Slowly but surely, a grin spreads into Seokjin’s puffy cheeks and he’s smiling from ear to ear again. “Well, you’re very good at hiding it then.”

Suddenly, the bell rings.

All the children reluctantly climb off the equipment, some dusting their hands while others grabbing their friends, and they rush into their lineups. There’s a few stranglers lugging their legs while groaning. But busy in their small playground worlds, no one turns around to notice you leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Seokjin’s mouth. It’s shy and brief, like the first peck exchanged between two for the first time. And you pull away just as fast, lips left tingling.

“We can continue this later, Mr. Kim.”

You stride off while Seokjin’s left smiling. After a breathless moment, he chases after you like children who have just made promises of their first love on the playground.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jin fanfic #jin fluff #jin scenario #jin reader insert #jin x reader #seokjin reader insert #seokjin fanfic #seokjin scenario #THIS IS MY LAST DRABBLE Y'ALL :D #anonymous

270 notes · View notes

thedamageofherdays · 3 years

Text

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

#r's reading log #my reading log #fic rec #stucky #stucky fic rec #fic recs #stevebucky #long post

104 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 2 years

Text

Thanks, Tumblr. What I really need is a reminder of how bad this year was for me.

Okay, let's see the damage report.

So, right away, a little under a third from the previous like two years. Gee, wonder what kidney could have caused such a drop in productivity rates.

At first I was like, wait, wouldn't that mean I used an average of about 3.5 tags per post? That seems highly inaccurate. Then I remember it's not counting all the tags I use repeatedly. Give me THAT statistic Tumblr, that's the one that shows just how much I've lost my mind. I mean, sure, there are tags I use all the time. Tags like....

#one piece - 157 posts [So, you're telling me out of 161 posts I've only used #one piece 157 times!? I kind of have to know about those four posts now.]

#roronoa zoro - 82 posts [And out of those 157 One Piece posts, a whole 75 didn't involve Zoro!? That's almost as many posts as were about my boy! This must be rectified.]

#trafalgar d. water law - 61 posts [No, that's fair.]

#trafalgar law - 58 posts [Have no doubt, right after this I will find the 3 posts where I failed to tag both Law tags and immediately correct this embarrassing oversight.]

#wano arc - 48 posts [What can I say? I enjoy Wano. But also, how is ZoLaw not higher on this list?]

#amusing musings - 47 posts

#zolaw - 39 posts [Here is is! Though, the fact this makes up only 28% of this blog is my personal shame.]

#zoro x law - 30 posts [This might actually be because I go between Zoro x Law and Law x Zoro. Must be more consistent. Or what is the point.]

#dracule mihawk - 30 posts [Again, this is a blog about swords so this checks out.]

#akagami no shanks - 23 posts [.... Shanks how the fuck did you sneak in here?]

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#legit just telling the other strawhats to go and die for his plan but then gets all zoro-ya why are you trying so hard to die for my plan!?

This is a blatant lie. I mean, yeah, that is ONE of my longest tags, but I have a few tags that hit the 140 character limit, And then it goes and counts the comma like that's you're choice. Still, as far as my long tags go, I like this one. I shall allow it.

Well, I can't get to wait to see what my most popular posts are. Maybe it's one of my posts where I actually examine and discuss an aspect of the show. Or, uh, how could would it be if it was a piece of writing. So many possibilities.

Posted 2021-03-08 23:46:03 GMT

Or, you know, it could be me freaking out about Benn's wanted poster. That's equally valid.

Hey, there are still four more to go. The next ones will probably be some overly long analytical piece about....

Posted 2021-10-14 10:08:49 GMT

Posted 2021-03-23 11:26:37 GMT

[Please note, between when I originally took these screenshots and when I posted, this And the ext one switched places I'm not THAT bad at numbers, people. I am however, too lazy too correct it.]

I mean, at least I've got a style, even if that style is posting short, rather throw away posts. Could be worse, I suppose. I could be one of those people who wrote up epically long posts about things like-

See the full post || Posted 2021-12-14 23:51:57 GMT

Oh, yeah. Forgot how many people cared about Benn's style choices. Not too mention how much I clearly did.... Also, why are so many of these posts about Benn? Where my swordsmen at!?

Let's pay attention to exactly what the Heart Pirates do during these scenes.

Law: *Tells them to prepare to submerge*

Bepo: *Instructs crew to open vents*

Jean Bart: *Opens the vents*

Shachi: *Confirms water intake is good*

See the full post || Posted 2021-10-04 19:52:33 GMT

Oh, right, pretending to know how their ships work. I remember now.

33 notes · View notes

babypandawrites · 3 years

Text

Allies, Pt. 9

The Northern Air Temple

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 3,813 Summary: You thought that the chance of there being Airbenders other than Aang was too good to be true, sadly you were right.

Note: How I completely forgot about this until now I'm not sure but! Another piece of this series I’ve done for the fun of it is outfit designs- If that kind of things in fics isn’t your cup of tea then feel free to act like these don't exist! But for those who are interested or who might just wanna see; here you go. This is just what I personally envisioned while writing, again feel free to ignore it if you want, but I figured I might as well share :) I was also going to wait until tomorrow to post this bc Wednesdays is my upload day for it on Ao3 but I’m also a chapter ahead there and wanted to get my tumblr uploads caught up- so back to back post today and tomorrow :) Yay

-Navigation- | -Atla Masterlist- -Last Part- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Next Part-

Taglist: @boomeraangin | @brokennerdalert

“So, travelers, the next time you think you hear a strange large bird talking, take a closer look, it might not be a giant parrot, but a flying man! A member of a secret group of air walkers who laugh at gravity and laugh at those bound to the earth by it!” Aang smiled. “Aren’t airbender stories the best?” “Was it realistic? Was that how it was back then?” Katara questioned. “I laugh at gravity all the time. Haha! Gravity.” A pair of hands holding a hat suddenly appeared in the space inbetween Sokka and Y/n. The storyteller shook the hat, the jingling of coins being heard. “Jingle, jingle.” The two searched their pockets for any money. Y/n didn’t have anything, and the only thing Sokka pulled from his coat pocket was a small ball of lint and a bug. Y/n offered the storyteller a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” “Aww. Cheapskates!” The man left them, going to ask other audience members for donations. She turned to look at Sokka, a disgusted expression apparent on her face at the bug that wiggled around in his hand. “Why… was there a bug in your coat?” “Hey! Don’t question a man and his bug.” The bug rolled over, and started to crawl up his hand. Sokka yelped and shook it off. Her expression twisted into amusement. “A man and his bug, huh?” “It’s not my fault we can’t afford to keep him fed.”

The next morning, the group found themselves on the way to the Northern Air Temple. Apparently, the airbenders in the story they heard were seen the previous week. It seemed a little too good to be true, that there might be airbenders other than Aang still out there, but Y/n wasn’t going to be the one to crush the kids' hope. That was Sokka’s job, not hers. “Hey, we’re almost at the Northern Air Temple! This is where they had the championships for sky bison polo.” Y/n looked at Aang with a smile. “Sky bison polo? That sounds fun.” “It is fun! So much fun!” Katara moved to sit next to her brother. “Do you think we’ll really find airbenders?” “You want me to be like you, or totally honest?” Sokka asked, focusing on whittling a piece of wood. “Are you saying I’m a liar?” Katara crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m saying you’re an optimist. Same thing basically.” “They’re not the same thing at all.” Y/n commented. The boy just shrugged his shoulders. “Hey guys, look at this!” Appa was starting to approach the Northern Air Temple. It sat up on a sheer peak, several people flew around it, and smoke rose from a few pillars. “Huh! They really are airbenders!” Aang leaned, crossing his arms unhappily. “No, they’re not.” Sokka pointed up at the people flying around. “What do you mean they’re not? Those guys are flying!” “Gliding maybe, but not flying. You can tell by the way they move. They’re not airbending. Those people have no spirit.” Y/n tipped her head to the side, watching the gliders. “I mean, they look like they're flying to me, but you would know best.” As she finished speaking, a glider passed over the group's heads, nearly taking them off. The glider’s pilot laughed, turning to pass by Appa again. Getting a closer look at the kid, it could be noted that his glider was built out of the wheelchair he sat in. Katara pointed in the glider’s direction. “I don’t know, Aang. That kid seems pretty spirited!” The glider made another pass, and soon Aang was standing up glider in hand, before taking off. Another glider flew in front of Appa, startling him and causing Katara and Y/n to fall backwards into Sokka. The three grunted at the impact. “We better find some solid ground before it finds us!” Appa made a landing on one of the temple’s outer terraces, the trio getting off him and watching as Aang and the boy in the wheelchair glided through the sky. Aang eventually came down and landed next to them, the other boy also coming to a landing. A few kids came other and detached the glider from his wheelchair, before he wheeled over to the group. “Hey! You’re a real airbender! You must be the Avatar! That’s amazing! I- I- I’ve heard stories about you.” Aang rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Thanks.” “Wow! This glider chair is incredible!” Sokka rushed over to the kids who had the glider setup, inspecting it. “If you think this is good, wait until you see the other stuff my Dad designed.” He began to wheel away, the group following. They were led through the huge main gate of the temple, into the main chamber. The room was dominated by steam-powered machinery with many wheels, gears and pipes. “Wow!” Sokka ran forward, looking around the room excitedly. “Yeah, my dad is the mastermind behind this whole place! Everything’s powered by hot air. It even pumps hot air currents outside to give us a lift when we’re gliding.” Aang took a look around. “This place is unbelievable.” The boy in the wheelchair smiled. “Yeah, it’s great isn’t it?” “No, just unbelievable.” Y/n tried to hold back a laugh, clearing her throat to force down her laughter. “Aang used to come here a long time ago. I think he’s a little shocked it’s so… different.” Katara said, before following after Aang when he walked off. “So better!” Rolling her eyes, Y/n elbowed Sokka in the shoulder. He gave her a look. “Come on, you don’t think this is cool at all?” “Not really.”

Soon they followed the boy, Teo, to another part of the temple. This time it was a courtyard of sorts, it was untouched, and there were statues of airbenders. Aang was much happier about this, than he had been about the other room. “It’s nice to see even one part of the temple that isn’t ruined.” He spoke, as him, Y/n and Katara looked at a huge statue of an airbender monk. “Look out!” A voice shouted out, shortly before a wrecking ball crashed through the statue. The three flew backwards with the debris, and everyone started to cough from the dust. As the dust settled, several people could be seen through the hole that’d been created. One of the people walked forward, a middle aged man with a mostly bald head who wore a monocle, a green tunic and an apron. “What the doodle! Don’t you know enough to stay away from construction sites? We have to make room for the bathhouse!” “Do you know what you just did? You just destroyed something sacred! For a stupid bathhouse!” Aang, clearly upset with the man, took on an airbending stance. The man waved a hand in front of his nose. “Well, people around here are starting to stink.” Aang pointed at him. “This whole place stinks!” He slammed his staff against the ground, sending a strong gust of wind through the hole in the wall, knocking the wrecking ball and it’s rig off the building's foundation. “This is a sacred temple! You can’t treat it this way. I’ve seen it when the monks were here. I know what it’s supposed to be like.” “The monks? But you’re twelve!” Teo wheeled over. “Dad, he’s the Avatar. He used to come here a hundred years ago.” Aang walked closer to the man. “What are you doing? Who said you could be here?” “Hmmm… doing here… A long time ago, but not a hundred years, my people became refugees after a terrible flood.” He gestured his arms for effect, before moving to stand behind his son. “My infant son, Teo, was badly hurt and lost his mother.” Sniffling, he held back tears. “I needed somewhere to rebuild and I stumbled across this place. Couldn’t believe it! Everywhere pictures of flying people. But empty! Nobody home! Then I came across these fan like contraptions!” He held his arms out as if they were wings, making flying motions with them as he walked about the courtyard for a short moment. He stopped in front of Aang, who was clearly still upset. “Our gliders.” “Yes, little light flying machines. They gave me an idea. Build a new life for my son, in the air! Then everyone would be on equal ground, so to speak! We’re just in the process of improving upon what’s already here and after all, isn’t that what nature does?” Aang was still upset, while Sokka and Katara stood behind him, teary eyed from the story. Y/n rolled her eyes at the siblings, before moving to stand next to Aang, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sure, the story was sad, but to her the boy’s feelings were more important. The Mechanist turned to look through the hole in the wall he’d created. “I suppose that’s true. Unfortunately, progress has a way of getting away from us.” He looked down in a bout of sadness, before his head snapped up to look at an odd candle device..? A bit aways from them. “Look at the time!” Three candles burned brightly on a stone pedestal, each separated into their own sections. Next to the pedestal, a large mallet rests, sitting head down. The Mechanist turned to one of the scribes behind him. “Come the pulley system must be oiled before dark.” Sokka approached the candles, observing them. “Wait, how can you tell the time from that thing? The notches all look the same.” “The candle will tell us. Watch.” The candle’s flame snapped four times in a row. “You put spark powder in the candle!” “Four flashes, so it’s exactly four hours past midday, or, as I call it, four o’candle!” Sokka let out a laugh, as The Mechanist looked at him, seemingly pleased he was interested. “If you like that, wait till you see my finger safe knife sharpener!” Y/n’s attention moved to the man at the mention of that, watching as he held up his left hand, where three of his fingers were made of wood. He detached them from his hand, before tossing them to Sokka. “Only took me three tries to get it right!” Sokka let out a scream, as he caught the wooden fingers. “Follow me!” The Mechanist turned to leave, the men who were with him and Sokka quickly followed. As the boy passed by Y/n, he grabbed onto her wrist and dragged her along with him. She offered a quick goodbye wave to Aang, Katara and Teo as she was dragged away.

Quiet steps echoed through the narrow hallway, as Y/n, Sokka and The Mechanist descending a narrow staircase. Each of them held a lantern, glowing with sparse blue light. “These lanterns are terrible! I can’t see.” Y/n ran into Sokka’s back, as he abruptly stopped to open the jar to his lantern. She flicked the back of his head, as he continued to speak. “Why would you want to use fireflies for light- Hey!” She snickered, watching the firefly that escaped from his lantern. The Mechanist turned to look at them. “Hey, close that up! They’ll get loose. Fireflies are a non-flammable light source.” “Are you meaning to say that something down here is flammable?” Y/n asked, as they all continued walking. “Well, why else would I need a non-flammable light source?” The Mechanist offered a chuckle, as they approached a door. The edges of it were blocked by some sort of sealant, which he felt around, probably to check for leaks. After checking he turned back to them. “Cover your nose and hold your breath.” Once they’d done so, The Mechanist slid open a panel in the door, which they all looked through. It just showed a dark and empty room. “Okay, so you brought us all the way down here to see an empty room.” Sokka spoke with a somewhat confused tone. “Wrong.” Eyebrows furrowing together, Y/n watched as the panel was slid shut again. “You brought us all the way down here to see a room full of flammable explosive gas?” “Correct! It’s filled to the brim with natural gas. Came across it my first time here. Unfortunately, I was carrying a torch at the time. Nearly blew myself and the whole place even more sky high. Thought my eyebrows would never grow back! Anyway, there’s a vital problem that needs solving. From time to time we have gas leaks and they’re nearly impossible to find.” Y/n took a few steps back, as Sokka helped check the door for leaks. “So this place is an explosion waiting to happen?” “Yes, until I figure out how to locate something I can’t see, hear, smell or touch.” “Right, is it safe for us to be around this gas? Should we be wearing masks or something, in case we come across a leak so we don’t, you know, inhale it?” “Oh don’t worry, we should be fine.” The Mechanist paused for a moment, straightening up after finishing checking for leaks. “Well, as long as you aren’t a firebender or something- hah!” He let out a laugh, which Sokka quickly shared. Sokka nudged her in the arm, as they started walking back. “Oh come on, that was funny. You know that was funny.” “Yeah, hilarious.” He threw an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, loosen up. We’re gonna be fine, even if we do come across a leak.” She put her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay.”

The Mechanist led the pair to his workshop, and very clearly told them not to touch anything, before going to look over some papers on his desk. Sokka, of course, did not listen to that and started poking through things the moment the man's attention wasn’t on them. “Sokka, he said not to touch anything.” Y/n whispered, smacking his hand away from something he was about to mess with. He gently pushed her away a bit, before going right back to poking around. “Calm down, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m going to break an-” Sokka cut himself off, as he knocked some stuff over. Grimacing, he tried to keep it from falling to the ground. “I said don’t touch anything!” When The Mechanist spoke up, Sokka dropped the things to the ground. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “Not gonna break anything, huh?” The Mechanist came over, to help Sokka pick the things up. “Oh, don’t worry, that experiment is old and that egg was just part of last week’s lunch.” Y/n kneeled down to help them too, as Sokka sniffed the air. “Ugh! Week old egg smell!” “Quick! Find that egg!” The three started to crawl around, looking for the egg, but none of them were having much luck. “How could something that’s so small you can’t even see it make such a big stink!?” Sokka complained as they looked. The Mechanist perked up at the comment. “That’s the solution to our problem!” “Yeah!” Y/n looked at the two, confused, as they faced each other with excitement. “What?” “If we put a whole mess of rotten eggs in the cellar where the gas seeps up..” Sokka started the thought, which The Mechanist continued. “The gas will mix with the smell of rotten eggs…” “Then, if there’s a leak…” “You smell rotten eggs! Then you just follow your nose to the place where the smell is coming from..” “And plug up the hole where the gas is escaping!” “You’re a genius!” The two spoke in unison. Still, Y/n looked between the two with a confused expression. “ What? ” Suddenly, a large bell started to ring, and The Mechanist was quick to get up and rush from the room. “Something’s wrong I’ve got to go.” “Wonder what that’s about.” Sokka said, getting up himself. He helped Y/n up, grinning. “We should follow him.” “Always a snoop, huh?” Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Alright.” Grasping onto her wrist, he dragged her out of the room to follow after The Mechanist. They’d followed him to another room, one that was filled to the brim with different war machines branded with the Fire Nation’s insignia.

“You make weapons for the Fire Nation!?” Sokka was clearly angry with his words, rightfully so. Y/n was pretty mad about this development as well. She pointed a finger at The Mechanist. “You! You're terrible. Horrible terrible!” The Mechanist looked at the ground in humiliation and shame. Teo looked at his father angrily. “Explain all this! Now!” “It was about a year after we moved here. Fire Nation soldiers found our settlement. You were too young to remember this tale. They were going to destroy everything, burn it to the ground. I pleaded with them, begged them to spare us. They asked what I had to offer. I offered… my services. You must understand, I did this for you!” Teo turned his wheelchair away, clearly upset. The Mechanist turned on his heel, and walked back down the hall, leaving the five kids in the room. Teo shook his head. “I can’t believe this…. This is terrible.” “I know..” Aang looked at the weapons with disdain. “There’s so much here.” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “The Fire Nation could be coming for this soon…” Aang breathed out a sigh. “Your right… I’m going to go figure it out.” “I’ll come with.” Teo said, as Aang started to leave the room, before following the boy. With Aang and Teo’s return, they found out that the Fire Nation was coming soon. And they were intending to burn this place to the ground. They were all outside on one of the walkways, trying to figure out a plan. “This is bad! Very bad!” Katara looked over to Aang. “Aang, what are we gonna do? How can we possibly keep them all away?” “I’ll tell you how.” He pointed to the sky. “We have something they don’t. Air power! We control the sky. That’s something the Fire Nation can’t do. We can win!” “I want to help.” The Mechanist approached the group, as he spoke up. Aang offered the man a smile. “Good, we’ll need it.”

“We finally got the war balloon working, thanks to Sokka. This boy’s a genius!” “Thank you. You’re a genius!” “Thank you!” Y/n rolled her eyes at the exchange. “Can we get on with this?” Sokka cleared his throat. “Right. See, the problem with the old war balloon was you could get it airborne, but once you did, it just kept going.” He demonstrated with a model that flew up and hit the ceiling. “You could put a hole in the top, but then all the hot air would escape. So the question became, how do you keep a lid on hot air?” “Ugh, if only we knew.” Katara commented. Y/n, Aang, Teo and Katara herself all laughed at the remark. Ignoring them, Sokka pulled the model down from the ceiling, now showing off the mechanism to open and close a lid on the top. “A lid is actually the answer. If you control the hot air, you control the war balloon.” He demonstrated again, but this time the model didn’t fly up to the ceiling, thanks to the lid that could be pulled open with a string. Katara crossed her arms. “Hmm. That’s actually pretty smart.” “Okay, we’ve got four kinds of bombs. Smoke, smile, fire and-” The Mechanist cut Sokka off. “Stink. Never underestimate the power of stink!”

“We��re going to have to modify this to the new design, and fast.” The Mechanist said, as him, Sokka and Y/n worked on bringing the War Balloon he’d already constructed outside. “With both of you helping we should be able to get it up and running pretty quickly though!” “Yeah! And I’m pretty sure Aang and Katara will be able to hold off the Fire Nation with everyone’s help.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “They’ll be able to hold them off, but we can’t count on them too for too long, even if we have the skies. The Fire Nation’s army is huge, who knows how many soldiers will show up.” They got the balloon set up to do the necessary modifications. “Oh she’s right, time is not something we have on our side right now.” Sokka nodded in understanding. “Right. It’s only one modification though, so it can’t take terribly long, right?” “Let’s hope not.” Getting to work on the War Balloon, they probably could have gotten things done a little faster. But nonetheless, they got it done, and just in time too apparently. While Sokka and The Mechanist got ready to take off in the war balloon, Y/n went to find the others to see how they were holding up. “How are things going out here?” She asked, once she found Katara, Aang and Teo. The three looked at her with slight concern. “Not well.” Katara started. “Please tell us Sokka is coming with that war balloon soon.” Before she could give an answer, the war balloon rose up from behind them all, and started moving towards the battle field. From where they all stood, they could see Sokka and The Mechanist dropping giant slime bombs onto the Fire Nation soldiers. The bombs that they had didn’t stop the soldiers, however, and they were starting to advance closer to the Temple. Katara put a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, to get her attention. “What are they doing..?” She squinted in the direction of the war balloon, trying to see what was going on. “I’m not sur-” She cut herself off, watching as something fell from the basket of the war balloon. Was that the balloons fuel source? “Did they just push out their fuel source..?!” “What?!” A sudden explosion set off, a really really big one. The entire Temple got clouded in a ginormous wall of grey smoke. When the smoke dissipated, it was revealed that the Fire Nation was retreating. Aang pointed to where the army was leaving. “Look! They’re retreating!” Everyone started to cheer at the success, but the joy was cut short, as the war balloon started heading downwards quickly. Thankfully though, Aang was able to get Sokka and The Mechanist before the balloon crashed below. Currently, they all stood outside on the main terrace of the Air Temple. “You know what? I’m really glad you guys all live here now. It’s like the hermit crab.” Aang spoke, as he carefully picked up one of the hermit crabs near them all. “Maybe you weren’t born here, but you found this empty shell and made it your home. And now you protect each other.” Teo offered a smile to the boy. “That means a lot coming from you.” “Aang you were right about air power.” Sokka pointed to the sky. “As long as we’ve got the skies we’ll have the Fire Nation on the run!”

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla x reader #reader insert #sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #team avatar #slowburn #book one allies

55 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Note

I read with interest your view and that of @hopefulobjectmiracle about tumblr Klaine fandom. Is there more shipping these days than 2010-15? I ask because there seems to be a smaller group that only ship Kurt with Blaine but there seems to be a huge rise in Kurtbastian and Hevans shippers. Likewise, there’s many more pezberry or faberry shippers. And a lot more of those shippers trying to discredit Blaine or Brittany as OTP for Kurt and Santana. There seems to be new younger people joining Tumblr declaring a love for all things Klaine, and then a week later shipping Kurt with everybody else!! Has there been a change since the show aired?

Hi Nonny! :)

Hmmm.... There's not really a clear answer to this because the way shipping evolved is different than people just finding things now.

There are kind of two different things going on here -- Kurt related shipping and non-Kurt (blaine/klaine) shipping. I can't tell you much about non related Kurt things -- however, I will say that Faberry was HUGE when the show was on. It's a subsection of the fandom I never interacted with but it was around in season 1, and loud enough that the show makes nod to it from season 2 forward. Brittana was always around, too, and the reason Brittana became a thing on the show was, partly, due to fans crying out that they should be a couple -- and more than the throwaway joke the writers made in the first season.

I don't know what happened to those ships over time, or how the evolved since the show ended -- I'm sorry :/

But now, I will tell you the epic history of Kurt shipping. (Again. i should really dig out my old notes on this, lol)

Here we go long post...

I found it! I'm going to quote myself so I don't have to write it out again, lol. This was originally from an ask about the BBO (Better Boyfriend Olympics), but it'll work here, too.

Okay, so let’s go back to 2010 when there wasn’t a Klaine fandom, there was a Kurt fandom. A lot of the BBO stemmed out of the Kurt’s Boyfriend Shipping wars of 2010.

Back then, there was just a Kurt fandom, and a lot of opinions about who he should date. Believe it or not, Kurt was shipped a lot with the other guys on the show, there was a healthy dose of Kurt/Finn, but Kurt/Puck was huge, and there was a smattering of Kurt/Mike (I never really did see much Kurt/Artie now that I think of it, which is kind of funny in retrospect, but I’m sure it’s out there.) Anyway - when the show announced Kurt was getting a boyfriend – well, things began to get heated up.

Three big ships emerged

Kurt/Sam - because the rumor was that Sam was originally supposed to be Kurt’s bf (probably not, but that rumor was big at the time). Btw, they were the canoe ship (I have no idea why) and was also known as Kum (rolls-eyes). This ship’s fanbase was so huge and lasted so long, that the show felt the need to address it head on in Season Two’s Rumours (not a joke).

Kurt/Karofsky - Also known as Kurtofsky, they were also called themselves the Pirate ship (god, Idk why, shipping wars are weird, yo). These people were also really passionate, mostly about Dave, but liked the whole idea that Kurt would save Dave and they would have this weird - enemies to loves love affair or something. I don’t know, I could never get past the squicky assault aspect, but whatever.

Kurt/Blaine - which. at the time, was… the biggest possibility? It’s funny cause the other two ships were just as big as the Klaine ship, and really the fighting became over who was going to be the best option for Kurt.

And that’s the thing. Fans of Kurt were so passionate about who was best for Kurt, because everyone had seen him go through hell and back on the show, so his boyfriend needed to be perfect for him. And you know who was perfect (at first) – Blaine. More on that in a second…

However, Blaine brought his own bit of baggage – namely fans of Darren Criss (and/or Starkid fans). Unlike Chord Overstreet or Max Adler, people knew who Darren was before he was on Glee. So his own fandom joined in on the Klaine of it all. At first it was all fine – as the shipping wars continued, it was less about Kurt vs Blaine and more about Klaine vs the other shippers. Well, that was going to change….

Original Song happened and Kurt and Blaine got together ending the question of who would ultimately be Kurt’s boyfriend. And things were nice and cozy headed into season 3. You’d think the Kurt/Sam and Kurt/Karofsky ships would die out, but not really, they stuck around for a long time, and kinda morphed into something else.

See, The First Time happened. And for the first time Blaine wasn’t the perfect prince that he was in season 2 – he had more of a developed personality, and more flaws. And… some people didn’t like it. (Also added to the mix was Sebastian – and the Seblaine and Kurtbastian ships were born, but those kinda go off on their own thing and I’m not really going to bring them up much here.) Anyway, what really got fandom split was Dance With Somebody.

You had two sides of an argument, people who saw Kurt’s POV and people who saw Blaine’s POV – and guess what happened. The two sides began to fight with each other over who was “right” in the argument. (My god…) And thus started what fandom started referring to as The Better Boyfriend Olympics.

See - for reasons I don’t fully understand - instead of seeing that each of the boys have a fault and each were wrong in the episode, each side wanted to say that their side, and their POV was the correct way – that one boyfriend was more oppressed and the other was not as good a partner.

On the Kurt side, though, you had a lot of the old Kurt fans and ships who didn’t like Blaine (and/or didn’t want Blaine as his partner) so they vehemently decided that unless Blaine was the perfect boyfriend again, he didn’t deserve to be with Kurt. Meanwhile, you had the Blaine fans, many of them Darren fans who wanted Blaine to have more depth to him than just being Kurt’s boyfriend, and not being Kurt fans first (or originally) they were going to push back at the Kurt fans who were lashing out at Blaine.

Compounding this was the fact that during season 3, there were so many cast members and characters that unless you were Finchel, you were begging for scraps and your featured episode to come along. Meanwhile - Kurt got a ton of screen time, but didn’t sing much, while Blaine sang a lot more, but didn’t get much story. The Kurt fans resented that Blaine was always singing. The Blaine fans were annoyed that the Kurt fans resented it, and tried to remind the Kurt fans that Blaine barely got any development.

Either way, a war had begun. And then The Break Up happened.

Now Kurt fans had a specific reason to point at – Blaine being a terrible boyfriend. He cheated. He’s terrible. The end.

The fandom was not firmly split into sides - you were either a Kurt fan - a lot of them who HATED Blaine - partly because he was getting more attention at the time, partly cause he did sing more, partly because they were made up of Kurt ships that didn’t work out, and partly cause they saw so much of themselves in Kurt that they projected onto him their own feelings, and loving Blaine was not a part of that projection. Or you were a Blaine fan - who spent a lot of time defending Blaine to the point of exhaustion, and became so resentful of Kurt that they wished Blaine could be with anyone else because Kurt (fans) didn’t understand Blaine and should just stop trying.

Weren’t there any Klainers you ask? Ha, well…. Klainers, people actually liked Kurt AND Blaine were stereotyped into two categories. Category A) the really really loud fanbase (usually on Twitter) that harassed the creators, RM, Chris, Darren, various crew about Klaine every second that they got – to the point that it started to feel embarrassing (that’s probably my own projection). Category B) People who thought (think) that Chris and Darren were (are) in a secret relationship. (Spoiler alert they aren’t, never have been, and never will be.) The two of these categories overlapped A LOT, and many of the fans of one boy or the other just disassociated completely.

You could still be a fan of the Klaine relationship, but you had a preference to which boy you were actually a fan of – you couldn’t like both, or else you were a Klainer, and that was not cool. (I spent a long time NOT identifying as anything, and trying to make sure everything I did and said was equal – a) cause I was new to fandom and b) cause I hated that either one or the other of these characters were villainized so frequently.)

Anyway - Season 4 continued. Adam showed up, and Kurt fans got all excited, but the problem was that a lot of them saw him as the perfect boyfriend again – not a real character but a prop that could make Kurt look good and be everything for Kurt. Look, I liked Adam, I did, but he was underdeveloped, and this weird idea that your boyfriend needs to be perfect in order to be a functioning relationship is just unrealistic. I digress. Meanwhile, we didn’t get a lot of Kurt POV, which didn’t help things, and meant even more projection over his character.

Meanwhile, the Blaine fans had formed their own community, which became viciously defensive of him. I think the whole fandom was toxic during this time for a lot of reasons, and I really wanted to quit it. Many people did – the show wasn’t being fun anymore.

Season 5 came along, the boys got back together, tempers simmered, but the whole idea of the Better Boyfriend Olympics came back every time a conflict happened. Arguments about who was the better boyfriend ensued, gatekeeping as to why their pick was best and why your opinion sucked still ran through the fandom. Not helping was the fact that Cory had died, and the creators, actors, and crew – as well as media – was tired of Glee.

The one nice thing, though was that a lot of the old crowd had moved on by then, and there was an influx of newer people coming in during season 5 (and season 6) – they weren’t here for the season 3 droughts and season 4 wars, and brought in a newer and fresher perspective.

But still - we had the end of season 5 and the summer of spoilers and season 6 to get through. At this point, the Kurt and Blaine camps had moved to their parts of the internet and really not speaking much to each other if they could help it. When an argument happened on the show, the same kind of Better Boyfriend Olympics came up again – one boyfriend was worse than the other, and unless they changed xyz they were not good enough for the other. But at this point, it was incredibly tiring. I know that I was just ready for the show to be done with.

I should say, as an aside, not helping things were the rise of some rather vocal BNF-ish fans, who dug their heels in about their own opinions. The refusal to even acknowledge that one side or the other might be right, or have valid points was not helping anything. A lot of people on both sides refused to even listen to the points on the other side – and instead of being frustrated at the show, the creators, or whatever, they took it against each other, which wasn’t fun to watch either.

Season 6 happened - Blainofsky happened, and that killed enthusiasm for the season on both sides, most people just kind of wanted it to be over. And then the ending came quickly, and I think a lot of people who were just plain unhappy about everything left for good.

The Better Boyfriend Olympics, or this weird competition that always pitted the boys and their fandoms against each other in the name of one being better than the other, leveled off after this. I won’t give myself /that/ much credit - but one reason I created @todaydreambelievers was to give fans of both Kurt and Blaine a safe place where we could enjoy and discuss both boys without the BBO rearing its head. And you know what – it did mend a few hearts.

For the most part, it’s been pretty quiet since. Fandom is quieter, but I think the people who have come into it after the show has ended are a lot less judgmental and argumentative. (I suppose it helps if you know how the story is going to end.) And the cool thing, for me, is finding a group of people who enjoy Kurt and Blaine equally (or respectfully) – and reclaiming the name Klainer as a good thing.

I’ll end by saying this – it’s been relatively peaceful, even with the influx of new people throughout the years, but I have been seeing shades of BBO pop up again. Look, you don’t have to like Klaine to be a fan of one or the other of them. But there are a lot of terrible things going on in the world, a lot of things to be angry and get indignant about. How a fictional couple was written ten years ago is not one of them. Be respectful of people, and know that maybe the side you understand better isn’t the only side worth listening to. ;)

////////////////////

So, I suppose that's part 1 of this full picture. Onto Part 2.

Here's the thing -- I've stayed, mostly, in my little tumblr buble over the past five years -- blissfully unaware that I suppose things were going on around me. Except... they really weren't. Until the pandemic happened, and Glee went to Netflix internationally, and a whole bunch of young kids grew up and started watching the show.

By the time I ended TDB in 2019, there weren't many of us left. I knew there was our small, dedicated group of fans. The tinhatters (the group who thought Chris and Darren were in some kind of relationship. spoiler alert -- they're not). And I know the Kurtbastian fans have been kicking around for a while. But no one was around in huge numbers.

And then boom - pandemic, and I'm shocked (not in a bad way) that this show has already seen a resurgence. The weirdest part, for me, is the fact that not only is history repeating itself -- seriously, people are bringing up old conflicts that have been dead for ages, and old shipping wars I never thought I'd see again -- but I think this new group's relationship with the show is much different.

I think that Kurt is a character whom a lot of people can still identify with. And because he's on his own in the first season, it's still easy to project yourself onto him. And then shipping goes from there. Blaine went from being the exciting option, omg are they really gonna do Klaine?? to -- hey Klaine is the boring canon choice, we can choose who we want for Kurt.

Layer over that years of Blaine hate still circling the interwebs. The echo chamber that Twitter and Tiktok create. And the fact that neither Chris or Darren seem to have the army of fans they once did (well -- Darren does, but they don't really watch Glee anymore). And you get this varied landscape of shipping.

No, some days it doesn't feel that different from the BBO days. The fact that I still get asks about Blaine and TFT car scene or Tested makes me feel like I'm back in 2013. Other times I'm perplexed by resurgences -- such as Kurtbasitan and Kurt/Sam. (Please don't bring back Kurtofsky guys)

But there's a saying -- Same Shit, Different Day.

I think there is an entirely different group of people than the original people watching, and their reasoning for shipping whatever is much different. But they've certainly come to a lot of the same conclusions that brought about the shipping wars in the early days.

At the end of the day - I think Kurt will always been a fandom mattress. But ship what you like and be nice to everyone else. There's enough hate in the world -- no need to dump on people's escapism.

#that's how s.o. sees it #klaine history #klaine #and fandom #did I answer the question?#idk

35 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU. Sort of. Lots of outsider perspective.

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links. So. Here’s the AO3 link to the series.

McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct. He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park. That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate. That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate. Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere. And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just. Disappeared.

The county wanted answers. So, they sent McGee. Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that. As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.

So, yeah. Bracing. Just like the wind. Ouch, it was cold. McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.

The… underground parking garage. Wind?

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from. There weren’t exactly any windows down here.

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button. The doors opened immediately. Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.

Well. If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music. He kept his face carefully blank. It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head. They were decorated with bells. How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins. We’ll probably be working together at some point. Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department. We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.” He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly. “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time. But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner. You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives. That’s going to be weird.” He sipped from his mug again. “Maybe we’ll promote someone. Not Cameron Daily, though.” Collins stared into the middle distance. “No. Not Cameron Daily. Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.

“Hah. Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.” Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck. At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’ Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate? Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went. The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office. Was the man a fan? Did he believe in that ghost nonsense? Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on. We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.” Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze. “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah. So, the captain was suspicious. Time to put that backstory to good use.

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm. See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel. We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.” The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change. “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll. Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins. I know you met him. Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid. Both of their backs were to McGee. He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests. All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.

“—until he sees his first fight? We’re supposed to babysit him until January? We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly. Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.

“Oh. McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee. You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it. How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.

“Only since yesterday. Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.

Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads). There was something else. Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on. Something—

He did a double-take. Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters? Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins. He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot. “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm. Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.” He pulled the parking brake. “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face. “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t. You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested. “This isn’t just any new resident. This is a coworker. A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee. This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further. “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins. “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped. God. It was just some kid. McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen. “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh. That was interesting. Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson. “This is McGee. McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast. Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…” He trailed off. “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway. Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.” He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny. “Might have to play animal control soon, though.” There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises. Danny winced. “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging. “Straight from the mayor. Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins. “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny. He sighed. “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.

“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within. “Your kingdom awaits!” He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust. “You’ll be entering old cases into the system. Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech. “Yes,” he said.

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back. “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep. You’ll learn about those later. VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great. So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.

Collins nodded. “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.” He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder. “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk. There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins. “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away. A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.

McGee turned to his work and smiled. They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.

It was odd, though. He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.

The department computer filing system was a miracle. McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems. He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it. It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.

The record room was not well organized. In fact, it was barely organized at all. Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed. A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room. Only about half of them were labeled.

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week. -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans. Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans. Unless they were a front.

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop. He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.

Except.

Except. The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist. Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped. Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” He took the offered cup from her. “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently? You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.” Patterson was unperturbed. “Yeah, that was pretty exciting. Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah. Well, there wasn’t any foul play.” Patterson shrugged.

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson. “There wasn’t anything there. Case was cold even without that.” Another long, aggressive sip. She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw. It had to be mostly air.

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life. This was saying something. Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged. “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that. Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too. You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.” Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes. The ones that got fished out of the lake. Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake? Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson. “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah. One more thing. I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson. “Come back at eight. Bye.” She waved as she left.

Great. What was he supposed to do about that?

He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town. Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative. They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.

But they had avoided certain parts of town. McGee had noticed.

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble. Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground. Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself? Were those tourists? In the graveyard?

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride. This whole town was in poor taste.

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave. Maybe it was a funeral? No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today? Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it? McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh. The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman. “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.

McGee grinned. “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman. She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him. A lie. Or, at least, deciding which lie to use. “Well, there was a body found a few months ago? No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here? We just, um. It was sad, you know? You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually. Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week #ectober week 2020

138 notes · View notes

apexqueenie · 4 years

Note

Hi sweet! Welcome to Tumblr ❤️ I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x reader, where the read is quirk-less and hides it from him, then he finds out and angsty stuff happens, but it ends in fluff. Feel free to change bits ❤️

Yasssssssss sorry this took so long!!! I recently took a trip to Oregon and couldn’t write as efficiently as I wanted to, please enjoy!!!

The Bitchy Couple (Bakugou x Quirkless Reader)

Warnings: swearing (duh)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You remember the first time Bakugou laid eyes on you. It almost felt like it was yesterday. He tried to kill you then.

You roamed the middle school grounds, looking for someone to hang out with during lunch. The latest pop music blared in your eardrums as you lost yourself in your imagination, pretending you were in a music video or something. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even see the three people that were headed your direction, equally distracted. The one in front was walking backwards, spouting loud nonsense to the two. He had no idea that you two were on a collision course straight for each other until BAM, your face collided into his shoulder blades.

“HEY, WHAT THE FUCK YOU NERD?” he turned around and yelled

Annoyed, you readjusted your headphones and scoffed. “You were the one walking backwards asshole, and you’ve got 2 goonies who coulda warned you, but I guess all you were too stupid!” You spat, walking off.

Back then, you were the only one who threw his shitty attitude right back at him. Bakugou didn’t wanna admit it, but he respected someone who could fight his fire with fire. Screw bullying the lower classmen, they weren’t as entertaining after a while. Besides, he found a new hobby, and it was to outdo you.

Almost every day, your conversations would end up something like this:

“Hey you wench, where’d you get those shitty headphones?”

“Up your mom’s ass, dickhead”

“Oh yeah? At least she has an ass. It looks like your back just extends to your legs”

Then, it escalated more into:

“Suck my dick, Bakubitch”

“How bout u suck mine? I’ve prolly got a bigger one anyways!”

“Nah, I know you’ve choked on waaaaaaaaaay more dick”

-And it got to the point that people were taking bets on who won the insult fest that day. In your school, you two were a famous duo, often being referred to as “the bitchy couple”, well, at least to the outsiders.

Away from the eyes of your classmates, Bakugou was a little more...sweet? You weren’t really sure what to call it, but it was a side of him that wasn’t always angry, someone who didn’t feel like he had to put on a show all the time. You worked hard to uncover that side of him, and damn were you proud. You did nearly everything to annoy him at first: telling everyone his most embarrassing secrets during lunch, purposely pairing with him during class projects- you even got your mom to contact his mom so they can arrange “study sessions” for you two. In return, he’d send the most embarrassing pictures of you to guys who asked you out, steal the shoes out of your locker so you’d walk to class with smelly feet, and blew up your jacket a couple of times during the winter. Eventually though, when the two of you walked home together alone and away from your audience, he’d lend you his jacket, promising to buy you a new one to replace the one he destroyed. During those class projects, you’d pour your all into obtaining a good grade when no one was looking. Underneath the mask that the two of you showed everyone, you guys were almost a couple.

Almost.

“Baka-gouuuuu” you hummed.

“What?”

You pouted your lips at him, earning yourself an aggravated blush from the gremlin.

“Disgusting” he said, “come to UA with me”

“Haha- wait what?” You stopped, completely baffled, “you want me to WHAT?”

Bakugou scoffed, not meeting your eyes. “You heard what I said.”

You scanned his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm or jokes...anything-but no, he was dead serious. That was completely out of character for him, even you were amazed at how sudden his behavior flipped. You looked down, thoughts spinning in your head as you processed the question. You were nervous, but why? He asked you to go with him, THE Bakugou asked you to apply at the same school when he basically bullied half the rest of the school out of even THINKING about it, so why aren’t you excited?

“Hero course” he said, and pointed to himself, “like me”

Then it clicked in your head, not once in the entire time the both of you had together did you ever show off your quirk like he did. Even when he’d challenge you, you’d always end up saying something like, “I don’t need a stupid quirk to make you cry like a little baby”. He’d think nothing of it and continue squabbling with you. No one, not even your own mother has ever outright told him you were quirkless. Maybe part of you was scared of what his reaction will be, judging from the way he treats Deku. Maybe some of it was shame from being a part of the minority in the world. You didn’t really know, and it was just something you never really wanted to find time for. Now, all that laziness was coming right back to bite you in the ass.

“Bakugou, I don’t really-“

“I’m gonna need someone to bully at UA...other than shitty Deku” he said, but his eyes told you what he really wanted. He wanted someone loyal, someone who would stick around through all his bullshit when no one else would. Even his goons were intimidated out of applying at UA. There wasn’t anyone left to compete against and keep Bakugou grounded except for, well, you.

You sighed, wondering how you were going to explain this to him.

“(Y/n)-“ he started again.

But you were faster, “I can’t apply to the hero course, Bakugou.”

He looked at you, confusion written all over his face. “What? Why?”

You looked down, averting his gaze. “Uhm, because... I can’t be a hero without a quirk, can I?” You say quietly.

It seemed like the world just stopped the moment those words left your mouth. The wind stopped shaking the leaves of the trees around you and Bakugou just...froze. You stayed silent, letting him take it all in.

His mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but he turned away instead, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

“Baku, I can’t hear you.”

He turned around, rage in his eyes. He spoke low and aggressive, sending shivers down your spine, “so you were just a quirkless nerd this whole time? Did you hear me that time you little bitch?” He took a step towards you, towering over your smaller frame. You stumbled backwards and almost lost your footing, fear rushing through your veins. You were well aware of what Bakugou could do, but you never thought that you’d be on the receiving end. Is this what Bakugou was like as a true bully?

Bakugou scoffed at your reaction and continued advancing in your direction, “How noble of you, following me around and wasting time with pathetic insults when I could’ve been training. Do you feel proud of yourself? DO YOU?”

You were shocked. He hasn't talked to you like that before. Not like this. Tears threatened to start forming at your eyes, flushing your face red. Bakugou blinked, realizing what he just said. Deep down, he felt awful from the very first sentence, but his ego wouldn’t let him apologize. He turned around and walked on home, leaving you silently crying where he left you.

He nearly broke the hinges of the door off when he got home, ignoring his mother’s yells and climbing up to his room. He cursed over and over again, fighting his conscience and his ego at the same time. Dammit, he was supposed to be fighting villains, not his own head! On one hand, he just couldn’t believe that you would tolerate him calling quirkless people pieces of shit, but on the other hand, he thought maybe it was his fault for making you feel unwelcome at the topic. Either way, he wasn’t sure what to be angry about, so he got angry at everything.

“aaauuAAAAAGH” he yelled in frustration, as he slams his body down onto his bed. What the hell was he supposed to do now? You probably-no, DEFINITELY didn’t want anything to do with him by now. Still, he just couldn’t help but feel bad. It was gnawing at his chest relentlessly, urging him to go back and make things right, and that was exactly what he was gonna do.

“KATSUKI!!! WHY IS IT SO DAMN COLD IN THE HOUSE?” Mama Bakugou yelled. She waited for an angry response, but heard nothing. She walked up the stairs, expecting her son to have passed out already, but was instead greeted with an empty room...and an open window. “Stupid kid,” she scowled, “coulda walked out the front door ya know, or at least close the damn window.”

***

Bakugou didn’t break a sweat running to your house, but he panted hard. His mind was jam packed with the things he wanted to say to you, he just had to find the courage to say it. Hah, Bakugou Katsuki... afraid of something? That was a first. He climbed the side of your fence up along a pipe, just like he’s done a million times before. He’d come and leave before your mom could smother him with her home cooking and conversations about arranging a marriage between you and him. It honestly became a little too overwhelming, and he’d just sneak in and out whenever he’d have to tutor you on something.

He pulled the window open and slipped in only to find a lamp being swung at his face. He dodged nimbly and stopped your second swing with one hand, ripping the lamp out of your hands before you could try again. You turned around and grabbed a book off your desk, yeeting it at his face before kicking his stomach. The lamp made a thump as it landed on the floor, Bakugou now occupied with the gigantic math book. You frantically looked for something else to throw, knowing he recovered quickly in combat. Your eyes landed on a half eaten pork bun on your bedside dresser and you quickly lunged at it, managing to hit Bakugou’s forehead before he could see it coming.

“God DAMMIT stop tryna hit me with shit!” He yelled, shoving you on to your bed.

You staggered a bit before falling and growled in anger, “you have some fuckin nerve coming back here after what you said!” You yelled back.

“Honey what’s going on?” Your mother called, opening the door. You two were so caught up in arguing that you didn’t realize how much noise it was making...or the footsteps coming upstairs. Your mom gasped as she saw what happened. You lying on the bed, hair messy, shirt a bit ruffled...Bakugou standing over you just OOZING dominance...oh yeah, she got the picture. The WRONG picture.

She blushed bright pink, “oh uh, hi Katsuki, be careful you guys ok?!?! Okbyedontforfettouseprotection!” She said before slamming the door closed in a hurry and climbing down the stairs.

“MOM WAIT NO IT'S NOT LIKE THATUUUUUUUUUGH” you yelled and plopped your face into your hands. You weren’t even angry anymore at Bakugou, just frustrated.

You sighed, lifting your face from your hands and stared into empty space. Bakugou took the empty spot next to you, looking at the ground. There was a long and awkward silence between the two of you. Painfully long. Bakugou eventually sighed, making a move to break the extremely thick ice.

“I didn’t really mean what I said, (y/n)-“ he started.

“Then why did you say it?” You snarled.

Bakugou looked up at you, then back at the ground, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “I was just, I dunno, angry at myself ok? Fuck off, wait no don’t fuck off, I...” he shook his head and took a big huff of air. Admitting his own wrongs wasn’t his forte, but it was definitely entertaining. You resisted the urge to smile a bit. He didn’t deserve that yet, not until he apologized. “I was just angry cuz...cuz I thought only people with quirks could be strong. But then you showed up and I thought you were probably the third strongest person I’ve ever met-“

“Third?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“After All Might, then me” he said, furrowing his eyebrows, “anyways, back to the point, look, I’m just sorry, for everything and I guess I shouldn’t have said that. I got upset at the fact that...I can’t beat your ass in hero course now. I can’t do projects with you anymore. And plus, if you aren’t going to UA anymore then-“

Bakugou was interrupted once again when you sat up, walked over to your desk, and dug through your drawer. You pulled a few pieces out before finding the one you wanted, then proceeded to wave it in the gremlin’s face.

“Who said I wasn’t going to UA?” You said, watching as his face just stared at the paper in awe.

“You’re enrolling in support?!” He yelled, taking the paper out of your hand.

“Yep” you said, giving him a small smile.

Bakugou lowered the paper and hung his head, “(y/n), I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

You sat back down and scooted over to lean on his shoulder, something he’d only ever let you do in private. “It’s ok Bakagou, I know you were only scared of losing me to some quirkless job like accounting or-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP IM NOT SCARED OF WIMPY SHIT LIKE THAT” he yelled, a small and almost unnoticeable blush appearing on his face.

You giggled, “sure whatever, look, I won’t be able to fight villains with you, but I can help you fight villains better by making support items for you. So I guess...that kinda makes me the hero behind the hero huh?” You smiled.

Bakugou scoffed, “Heh whatever, you better make me the best fuckin support items out of anyone there cuz I’m gonna need em to be number one, understand?!”

You scoffed back, “Number one my ass, maybe third place at the MOST.”

He growled as he whacked you with a pillow, making you shriek with delight. High school with this angry gremlin was gonna be interesting.

#anime x reader #mha x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #bakugou x reader #anime #mha fluff #fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou angst

265 notes · View notes

wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece · 3 years

Text

so if you are reading this then i am dead.

Yeah. So. I maybe died. I know on tumblr the famous “if you’re reading this I’m dead” story is from that poor transgender kid who committed suicide. I can confirm that this is not a suicide note. But if you are reading this I am likely dead. So. I suppose this will be equally pleasant to read.

So... long story short, I got cancer. I got cancer at 23. I got diagnosed with a stage four cancer which did not present any symptoms and which the doctors did not find in time enough to stop it. Being a paranoid health nut did nothing, it turns out. While I hope my death will not be painful I can at least tell you that my “treatment” so far has not been. The NHS is great, they provide so much care and support for me, it’s like having a legal drug dealer lol. The compassion of the nurses who are so overworked and underfunded is inspiring and I hope that Britain protects its health care system to its dying breath. It’s not great, obviously, dying, but I’ve spent the last year just visiting my friends, playing all those video games I never had time for because of work, and spending time with my family. It’s been really nice. Like being on holiday almost. Also because I didn’t go through chemo I’ve still got my ultra great head of hair. It’s actually really important to me that you, random person reading this, know that my hair was fucking sweet. Naturally thick and curly. I didn’t know that other people had to curl their hair, that’s how privileged I was. Know that I’m entirely unapologetic about bragging about this. I also had a cracking set of boobs. The gods would weep.

My point is that while this “journey” has obviously been quite dark and sad and I know that darker and sadder times are ahead of me... I’ve done okay. I’ve enjoyed myself. I listened to the rain and found all the damn Zelda shrines and I spent time with people who love me. I’ve given myself nice things and had a nice time with others. But it’s hard to figure out how to tell people that you’re dying. I don’t look sick so I have the added pleasure of having to tell a friend that I’m dead when I look perfectly fine. It’s harder still to account for places like this. Places where people know you solely online. I wonder if someone reading this thinks that I am joking. Kinda hard to verify to be fair. But this account will go silent at some point so this is a good-bye regardless of whether or not you believe me. (Regardless! The title of that fic I never finished! Maybe I should have. That was a fun thing to write.)

There’s that tumblr comic about ghosts on the internet, a person reflecting on how a dead person’s internet accounts do not get deleted and stay hanging there quietly. I don’t think I will delete this account. I might perhaps give the login to someone else so it can be deleted a little later on but I don't know for sure. But I want to offer some closure about where I have gone, even if its just to one person. So if you’re reading this, I’m dead. Or I’m likely close to death. I will schedule this for a few months from now, and if I reach that point and I still feel okay, I will push it back a few more months. I hope I will get to do this at least once. And you might be wondering, person online, why I did not tell you this while I was still breathing. Maybe you would have had something to say. Hell, maybe I’ll change my mind and I’ll share the secret. But if I don't, know that I am not suffering and that I am not struggling for avenues to express myself. I just didn’t know how to do it is all. I’m sorry to leave you with feelings that may be hard to work through. I am sorry. I do not want to leave. But I am. And I’m protective over the time I have while I am not dying. I’ve used tumblr less since my diagnosis but I like my casual scroll-throughs on a morning. People make a lot of fun content. It’s nice to see. I got tumblr mostly for my hockey fandom (Stars represent!) and I’m happy to say that my interactions on here have nearly almost always been positive, I’ve made some great friendships. Many of them have been fleeting but beautiful in that regard. Like maybe there’s that one person on the bus who you’ve never spoken to but you always smile at and when something weird happens, you share a quiet look over your newspapers. I like things like that. And there’s a lot of that on tumblr.

Funnily enough, when you find out that you’re dying, you just want to be nice. Not in a “oh shit I need to cram for heaven” kinda way, but it’s like. If I told you that your meeting with a friend was going to be your last one and that you’d never see them again, you’d tell them that you loved them. When the clock is ticking, you just want to put good things out into the world. So person online, know that I want you to be okay. I want you to feel unapologetic about telling a creep to fuck off. I want you to know that you deserve kindness and good things without any guilt. I don’t want you to have to spend your whole damn life working. I want you to be able to eat bread and butter slowly and enjoy the peace that you have. I hope that you always find the good fics. I hope that you don’t feel embarrassed about your face without make up because its just your face and even if it takes you a super long time I hope that you’ll learn that it doesn’t look bad. I want you to know that your own company is not a punishment and that its far better to be alone than to be with someone who doesn’t treat you right. I want you to buy yourself something nice this week, if you can. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. (Selfishly, if this is you, I want you to get over your obsession with calling dogs and puppies “doggos and puppers” because that’s fucking annoying as shit. But then again, it’s perfectly harmless and I’m dead after all, so do what you like.)

My point is that I have a met a lot of cool people through tumblr, fellow hockey fans, fellow readers and writers, and as such my feelings on this site are substantial enough that I feel like my time here warrants a final bow. Or a final shrug of my shoulders as I quietly depart, perhaps only noticed by a handful of people. Which is fine. I’ve realised that most exits in life are only observed by a few people. I’m sad to go. I can’t pretend to be at peace with this. But I had fun. And a lot of you helped with that. So thank you. I hope that you’re okay.

xxxxx

If you are reading this and you are a complete stranger who found themselves at my page through a gifset or otherwise, then hello. I know realistically that a lot of the content on the internet was made by people who are no longer around but it’s weird to confront it in reality. I hope you’re doing well.

If you are reading this and you think that you might know me in real life, please do not go through my tumblr and do not share your suspicion with others. While my many posts in which I call Tyler Seguin a slut and do various other cringey things are... there, I quite enjoyed the privacy I had here. I did not tell people about my tumblr account for a reason. Please respect my privacy. Consider it my dying wish.

#if it is not october 2019 #DO NOT READ #please #so ugh #this will mostly be read by my hockey followers but i guess if you happen across and you do not know me #please don't stalk my damn page #and i am sorry that #if you do read this #(kinda wondering if people will it has a click bait title but you know weird)#if you end up feeling low or if it ruins a good moment for you know #i love you #thanks for everything

15 notes · View notes

rayatii · 3 years

Text

A (somehow both very biased and not very opinionated) review of the Met orchestra musicians concert “Song to the Moon” from February 21, 2021:

I had been bothering my Tumblr followers with my excitement over this event yesterday, so it felt only right for me to stop procrastinating and give an attempt for a review of the whole thing; I think this is actually my first time writing a lengthy review ever, and it will probably sound naïve and be an embarrassment for me in the future.

It started around 10 PM where I live. I sat in my bed with my computer while eating chocolate in order to stay awake throughout the whole thing, and trying not to spill any pieces on the sheets, excitedly waiting for this event, having actually bought myself a fifteen-buck ticket about three weeks prior with my parents’ credit card (they didn’t bat an eye when I asked their permission), happily knowing that the money was not going to end up in the pockets of the undeserving Met management.

Given the shitty Lebanese Wi-Fi and the fact that this was a livestream, I had been worried that I might miss significant chunks and get upset over the fact. The stream did glitch a few times for me during the first number (mainly because I had my computer on my constantly-moving knees, before settling it down next to me on the bed), but otherwise it never failed me.

But let’s get on with the review. The livestream began with a title card representing an animation of a lunar eclipse, displaying the title “Song to the Moon”. The concert started with a performance of Antonín Dvořák’s String Quintet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 77 by members of the Met orchestra. (actually, given that this is a Met musicians concert, I feel that they ought to be rightfully credited; Nancy Wu, 1st violin [for this piece], Bruno Eicher, 2nd violin [for this piece], Désirée Elsevier, viola, Kari Jane Docter, cello, and Leigh Mesh, double bass.)

I actually listened to a recording of this piece in preparation a few days prior, just so you guys know. Obviously, there were a few slightly flat notes that were played, but overall this was quite a pleasant rendition, and I still have the theme from the 2nd movement stuck in my head as I’m writing this. What I also liked was that at one point (i.e. when I was actually paying attention in that area) I could actually hear the notes being played by the double bass quite clearly, at least compared to the other recording that I had listened to.

Next on the program, the musicians were joined by soprano Angela Gheorghiu (i.e. my main reason for actually purchasing the ticket), who performed all the way from the Athenaeum of Bucharest, Romania, [1st instance of Raya uselessly gushing] looking ethereal in that shot that was shown of her just walking inside the building wearing that white dress and flowing cape, before the actual performance. Just a warning for you guys here; I love Gheorghiu (actually, it’s a bit of a celebrity “crush”), so please expect a little bit of somewhat controlled gushing here and there (partly physical appearance-wise, which are indicated by the bold, and which I deeply hate myself for). This part of the review is causing me even more anxiety for that reason.

She performed on the stage of a theater that was practically empty besides the pianist. She sang in two languages I do not understand at all, which helped me a bit with not getting too distracted by pronunciation. [2nd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Before I get into what y’all actually came for, I just wanted to get it out of my system about how she had this appearance that defined “has aged, aged really well”. She had this kind of mature beauty, especially with her makeup, that seemed to give me the overall vibes of a pleasant middle-aged auntie. (well, this was very difficult embarrassing to write) Even her singing voice had this sound that can be described as having this sort of “mature” quality blended with the whole fact of her overall sound being “hers”. I hope I have made myself clear.

Okay, gushing finished for now, let’s move on with the review!

Apparently the footage taken in Bucharest and the one taken in New York were both filmed separately. I found it really mind-blowing how the audio of both got synchronized so perfectly.

The first gem Gheorghiu sang was an arrangement of “Tatăl nostru”; basically an early-19th-century musical setting of the Lord’s Prayer by Anton Pann that is still used to this day in the Romanian Orthodox Church (totally NOT reading off the PDF for the program notes provided on the website). I had obviously never heard this piece before; I had tried to (VERY lazily) look it up a bit, but to no avail. I unfortunately don’t remember much from this performance apart from everything mentioned before, but what I do know is that was rendered really epic thanks to the participation of principal Met percussionist Gregory Zuber alongside the string players.

Next was performed the aria after which the whole concert was named, the incredibly famous “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (aka “Song to the Moon”) by Dvořák again, from the opera Rusalka. This version was actually arranged by the violist Elsevier, who is among the musicians who retired from the Met during the pandemic. And it was indeed a beautiful arrangement! Now, unlike “Tatăl nostru”, which I virtually knew nothing about, I love this aria and know it quite well, so I did pay attention to some of the pronunciation; but then again, I do not speak Czech, so it didn’t matter much. Overall, Gheorghiu’s rendition was not perfect (I thinnnnnnnnk there were some notes that were a little bit out of tune? but there was vibrato that also touched the right tone and so I couldn’t tell), and I would certainly not imagine it within the full context of Rusalka the opera (see what I noted above concerning the quality of her voice), but that did not stop me from finding it quite beautiful.

It felt so weird not to hear any applause after each number, and so I could not help but clap after each gem, even though no one could hear me.

After the concert wrapped up, the audience got to watch a chat session between Gheorghiu and Met horn player Barbara Jöstlein Currie, where they talked about how this whole thing came to be (so apparently there was Instagram DM’ing between the two that was involved in the preparation?), before the five string players (which actually include two married couples!) whose music we heard earlier joined in. So unlike the concert, which was all pre-recorded, this was a Zoom session being streamed live. [3rd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Gheorghiu’s speaking voice sounds radically different from her singing voice, and I can tell English is not her primary language, but that’s just something useless I wanted to include, on which I have zero strong feelings. In contrast to the pre-recorded concert, here she was responsible for me writing in The Balcony Seats Discord server earlier today about how “you know you have aged well when you end up looking a bit like Morticia Addams”, especially with the makeup. [gushing done]

The whole discussion hinged on the concept of “Met family”, and I found the whole interaction between Gheorghiu and the musicians just very very sweet, a star singer and musicians in the pit seeing each other as equals, as family. It’s not every day that I see that (but then again, my background is severely limited, so what do I know). Among the relatively unimportant things the convo touched on that stick with me, in no particular order, are:

Gheorghiu apparently married on the stage of the Met because the guy from the City Hall lost their papers and I never knew that??? (but then again, I never directly research info about my hyperfixations because I get overwhelmed) Everyone had a nice laugh at that recollection.

She got into this whole profession mainly to sing at the Met. Also the whole deal of her making L*vine cry and making her debut at a young age for a star singer.

Everyone relating to the feeling of going home at night after a concert, and not being able to go to sleep because you still have adrenaline flowing through you. As someone who does performing arts, I also relate to that on a moderate degree.

Family life talks.

Gheorghiu mentioning how she can’t work with a director who’s like “your character does that because that’s what I decided” because something something harmony? I can’t remember; I’m pretty sure I’m misquoting. But that’s basically the equivalent of “my house, my rules” (”my production, my interpretation” in that case, lol) imo, so can’t object too much.

Something about playing the finale of Götterdämmerung led the musicians to humorously throw in the idea of Gheorghiu singing Brünnhilde as her next role, and she went all “nah” to that, also humorously.

This led to her admitting that she’s not the biggest fan of Wagner’s music (though she would consider singing Elsa); saying that she’d travel back in time to tell Wager to stop writing these interminable phrases, to just get to the point (I’m not really into Wagner either, so I don’t completely disagree). Also, she believes that Wagner is difficult to sing, and that singers who nail Wagner tend to end up singing only Wagner (here, I think it depends, but there is a point somewhere in here).

She doesn’t seem to like singing acapella/without music very much, which also led her to record some sAcRiLEgiOuS versions of Orthodox worship songs, which you’re apparently not supposed to sing with music.

She sang something like “goodnight, goodnight” (idk) at the very end, it was cute.

To go back to the important stuff, Gheorghiu apparently wrote directly to the Met donors, asking to help in any way, because she wanted to set an example for other people by doing the right thing, and to help what she sees as her “family”, as mentioned above. I had heard some stories about her diva reputation (and she does seem to enjoy attention and stuff, from what I’ve seen myself), but overall she seems like a pretty good person. Mainly mentioning that because as y’all know I’m autistic and can’t tell intricate body language and stuff, plus my very strong belief that good person >>>>>>> great performer. (but my dear friends say that loving her is valid, so I guess I’m safe from too much disappointment. what am I even writing).

And that’s it for my incredibly long and uselessly detailed and almost incoherent and somewhat gushy review, which took me nearly 3 hours to write (and for which I may or may not have replayed a little bit of the stream just to get one bit of info right), and which will, again, probably embarrass me for the rest of my puny life, but which I could not not let out into the void of operablr.

(There were also moments earlier today where I was fantasizing about being interviewed on that very Zoom meeting for the scene-and-duet I composed back in January in response to the Met’s poor treatment of its musicians)

I guess what I can take from this post is: never write a review again, Raya!

#sorry everyone!!!#raya writes a review #concert review #opera concert review #angela gheorghiu #(whom i have excessively gushed over)#(but seriously you should count the number of times i have written 'gheorghiu' in this one post!)#(i haven't bc it's late)#met orchestra musicians #song to the moon #song to the moon concert #dealing with part of a current hyperfixation

3 notes · View notes

miller-day · 4 years

Text

hi everyone!!

during the semi-hiatus i took from tumblr i became obsessed with psych (people who follow me on twitter know) and i even started writing about it. i thought it would be so funny to see how a crossover between shawn/gus and sherlock/watson would go, so i took it upon myself to make it happen. i’ve only written 6 pages of it but i’m thinking about going forward and writing more, but firstly i wanted to know if it’s actually worth it so i’m posting what i wrote on here and i hope that if ANYONE actually reads it and enjoys it, then let me know <3

(none of the characters are mine)

“Shawn Spencer. Psychic detective.” Watson shifts his glance from the open newspaper on the coffee table to Sherlock, who’s standing in the kitchen and looking like a misplaced giant, his 6 feet of flesh and bones (or just bones) still forming a comical comparison with the small-dimensioned furniture of their apartment, most of it bought by equally small-dimensioned Mrs. Hudson. “I see you’re now interested in the supernatural?”

Sherlock scoffs. “Please. You know my demon-hunting days are long past.”

Watson waits for Sherlock to develop his last statement, even though he’s not sure he actually wants to hear more of it, but his roommate’s attention seems to have been captured by the stirring sounds he’s making with the teaspoon against the glass of his mug. “What’s this doing here, then?”

Sherlock doesn’t look at him to know what he was referring to. He goes about as though Watson’s presence in the room is as dispensable as a fly on a summer day, something you dismiss with a single hand motion and move on, and sits on his usual red sofa. Watson rolls his eyes, not yet immune to Sherlock’s peculiar way of being even after almost two years of friendship, and throws the newspaper onto his lap rather angrily, to which Sherlock replies, “Hey!”

“Shawn Spencer,” Watson says, pointing at the bold black letters on the top of the page that’s facing Sherlock, the phrase PSYCHIC DETECTIVE SHAWN SPENCER SAVES THE CITY OF SANTA BARBARA FROM ANOTHER KILLING SPREE making its loud announcement above a picture of two guys proudly smiling in front of a police station. “You were reading this.”

“How observant,” Sherlock replies, rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should be the one solving the crimes and I should be the one writing about it on my blog.”

Watson exhales angrily. “Why are you avoiding this topic?”

“It’s not so much avoiding this specific topic as much as it is me avoiding you,” Sherlock stops to take a sip of his tea. “I’m busy.”

Watson rubs his left temple in an attempt to soothe the vein he’s foreseeing popping in a couple of seconds. “If you say so.”

He ends up sitting dramatically on the opposing couch. They’re both silent for a while, Watson with his eyes closed and his head resting against the cushion, Sherlock noticing the rhythm of his best friend’s chest rising and falling as he approaches, slowly, the realm of sleep.

“Alright, fine. Do you want to discuss this?” Watson opens his eyes in surprise at Sherlock’s sudden rupture of the room’s previous quietness. “I think the guy is obviously a con-man.”

Watson blinks, noticeably distressed. “What makes you so sure?”

“Oh, come on. Please don’t tell me you believe this bullshit.” Sherlock says, his sarcastic laugh creating an itch on his roommate’s skin, then places his mug on a table nearby. “You’ve believed worse, though, so I’m not exactly shocked.”

“I just asked a question. I think the guy deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

Sherlock’s expression is void of any inclination towards an agreement with Watson and giving the psychic even the tiniest bit of credibility. Crime-solving, as far as he is concerned, is an art, a study of the human brain, a test of one’s skills in terms of impulse-control and harmony of the senses, a practice no one can ever master in its entirety, and for someone to taint its name with something so low and idiot as an alleged psychic ability only makes him furious. The worst part, he thinks, is that people aren’t contesting it at all — the guy managed to make his name go from Santa Barbara to London after all, and from the looks of it, he has the entire local police department on his side.

“Oh, don’t start,” he says, a tone of annoyance dripping from the edge of his words.

“With what?” Watson asks, a little amused.

“With your whole thing,” Sherlock gestures vaguely with his hands. “You’re free to think what you choose—”

“How kind of you.”

“—but I won’t let you waste my time with arguments in his defense. He either has someone on the inside or he actually solves the crimes, but I won’t acknowledge any talent on his part if he’s doing something so stupid as hiding under the pretense of ‘communications with the supernatural’,” he does the air-quotes mockingly, “or whatever term he uses to call it.”

“Are you jealous because the spirits like him better than you do?” Watson asks, a smile of mockery slowly taking form on his lips. “I’m sure if you’re kinder to people they might just come around to talk. Y’know, if you’re a good bloke and all that.”

“You’re thinking about Santa Claus, Watson, but given that he’s not any more real than whatever powers your little Shawn Spencer claims to possess, I suppose it’s a valid assumption.”

“He has a partner. You know that, right?”

“Who? Spencer or Santa?”

“Shawn Spencer, obviously,” Watson replies. “You said you think he has someone on the inside, and he’s not alone in that picture. He works with someone.”

“Oh, but I meant inside the police department, to give him information and such. The man on the picture is his...” Sherlock sighs. “Best friend, I guess. As if they couldn’t get more embarrassing.”

Watson throws his head back in laughter and Sherlock stares blankly at him. “What?”

“Nothing! It’s just...” He puts his hand over his mouth, then itches the back of his head, still smiling. “If you think about it, they’re kind of like us.”

Sherlock’s face has an expression about it that makes him look as though he’s taken a bite out of a lemon. “What do you mean?”

Watson hasn’t stopped giggling, and Sherlock looks at him with puzzlement, expecting an answer.

“I mean, they’re two friends who solve crimes together.” Watson replies, his tone an indication of how obvious the comparison is.

“I don’t suppose you’re suggesting I’m the Spencer in this scenario?”

“Well, you’re the one who’s always going on with the ‘you see, but you don’t observe’ bullshit. I always thought you meant it literally, but perhaps you meant something more... metaphysical? Seeing like a psychic, maybe?”

Sherlock stands up abruptly. “This isn’t funny, Watson.”

Watson chuckles. “Agree to disagree.”

“You know, I’m positive I could expose that Spencer within seconds of meeting him,” Sherlock says, and starts pacing around the room like his thoughts are too fast in his mind for him to be still. “His partner, for instance—”

“I think you meant his best friend.” The smile of mischief is still there.

“Is a pharmaceutical salesman. What does this tell you?”

Watson furrows his brows in confusion. “That he has a discount on paracetamol?”

“You’re useless. Utterly, completely useless,” Sherlock replies. “How did you even manage to get a medical degree?”

“Oh, well, they just give it around these days,” Watson rests his elbows on his thighs and places his face on his hands, a Little-Mermaid-like position that weirdly fits him. “Showing up is pretty much the only requirement.”

Sherlock ignores his roommate’s response and continues, this time more to himself than as a contribution to their conversation. “Shawn Spencer’s partner having another job is an indication that their whole business isn’t as solid as they make it seem. It might be to help with the money for rent and transportation and such, but it could also be that the financial guarantee he’s seeking is preparation for the moment when Shawn is inevitably exposed for being a fake.” Sherlock stops and scans Watson for an indication of him having been convinced. “Or he just had that job before this scam started and doesn’t trust Spencer to keep it for much longer, at least not enough to make him quit.”

Watson rests his back against the cushion again. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this bit, make me hate the guys?”

“No, of course not. I just want to show you the other side of things, the real side. But you can choose to live in this delusion as much as you want. I mean, go ahead. Keep thinking the supernatural actually exists! I’m sure it helps you sleep at night.”

Watson rolls his eyes and angrily grabs the newspaper, which, at this point, is on the floor, having been stepped on by Sherlock at least five times, and his eyes immediately fall on the picture. The one whom he reads is Shawn is on the left, plaid shirt and cocky grin giving him the appearance of an average guy you wouldn’t be surprised to see eating chicken wings or making obscure references to movies from the 80s. His hand is up as though he’s waving to the crowd in front of him, not even a little bit worried about his unconventional methods being an easy target of judgment. He looks like he belongs there, Watson realizes, and for a second he almost wishes he knew those guys. The best friend/partner, Burton Guster, is on the right, his hand placed on his chest in a gesture that would suggest humbleness if it weren’t for his facial expression, a look about him that seems equally receptive of the recognition and praise as Shawn is. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt that’s tucked under his pants with a belt, and the two of them form such a distinct contrast to each other that Watson finds it rather amusing. He can’t help but think about the many pictures of him and Sherlock that have appeared on the newspaper over the years, and he wonders if people have analyzed them the way he’s analyzing Shawn and Guster at this moment. They can undoubtedly notice Sherlock’s arrogance and Watson’s shyness from the capture of a lens, but can they also see his excitement, Sherlock’s determination, the deep and unspoken connection the two of them share but hardly ever acknowledge? Can they understand what motivates them from within, the drive for justice, the thrill of the chase pumping in their veins?

“I think you’re being too harsh with them,” Watson says simply, putting the newspaper on the couch next to him.

“How come?” Sherlock replies. “I think I’m being perfectly adequate.”

“I don’t know,” he crosses his arms. “It’s just... Okay. Let’s suppose he is indeed faking his powers.”

Sherlock points a finger at him. “Which he totally is.”

Watson ignores him and continues, “Does that inherently mean he’s a bad person?” Sherlock stares at him, silent. “He has put a lot of bad people in jail, and no doubt has saved a lot of lives in the process... Doesn’t that give him a little bit of credit?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath. He doesn’t respond immediately; instead, he walks to the window and gazes at the street below, strangers passing by with shopping bags and dogs on leashes and briefcases on hand, the sounds of London fading away as background noise as he concentrates on details of the everyday life. He notices the mark of a ring on the girl with the dog’s finger, the dust on the shoe of the guy with the briefcase, the small tear on the shopping bag carried by the woman. He absorbs all of it in, knowing none of this information is relevant to his existence, and takes a deep breath.

He’s reminded of a babysitter he used to have back in the day. Susan Carter. She was, in theory, hired to take care of both him and Mycroft, but Sherlock’s brother, even in his youth, acted like someone older than his age, someone who could take plenty of care of himself even though he was still sleeping with a night light on and occasionally peeing his pants. Sherlock didn’t like Susan very much — he actually felt that way about pretty much everyone at that time, but with her it was especially intense because she’d spend the entire day checking in on him. He couldn’t just simply tune her out diving into the depths of his mind castle, because it was a guarantee she’d be there too, her high-pitched auntie voice asking him questions like, “Do you want some tea, Lockie?” or “Want me to read you a story?” Never mind the fact that she was merely doing her job, one which he was aware she was being paid for incredibly well (it wasn’t easy to find someone willing to accept employment in the Holmes residence those days): he wanted her out of his sacred place, expelled out of his house like a virus after an antibody attack.

His will ended up being his way, in the end. Susan decided to quit after Mycroft put laxatives in her tea one day, and all of this happened because she had entered his room, without knocking, and caught him during one of his private costume sessions. Mycroft would sometimes spend hours alone in his room doing this — one day he’d be a king from the Victorian times, ordering the toys in his room to attend to his commands, and the other he’d be Britain’s first astronaut setting foot on the moon. Sherlock was never allowed in, even though he’d usually want to, much to his own dismay, and when his nanny caught Mycroft dressed up as Shakespeare in the middle of a reenactment of his own play, Mycroft decided it was best to put matters into his own hands. Or, really, the poor lady’s digestive system, which got torn to shreds after that tea. Sherlock was glad to see her gone, but it sadly wasn’t much long before another nanny stepped in to take her post, and the others after her blended together to create one amorphous being in his mind, all identities a dense cloud of memories he, to this day, associates with despair and annoyance.

What made Susan stand out amongst them was the fact that she liked tarot cards. Sherlock always thought of it all as rather stupid and tried to avoid her “sessions” as much as possible, but sometimes she managed to catch him in the sofa, staring at the ceiling or memorizing the patterns of the paintings on the wall, and she’d say “let’s have a reading, Lockie! You’re not really doing anything much now, aren’t you?”, to which he’d have no reply. He’d sometimes run away to the garden, but other times he’d admit defeat and sit next to her on the dinner table, and she’d spread the cards and explain the meaning of every one of them, even the ones which weren’t chosen by Sherlock. Surprisingly, he’d sometimes find himself enjoying those moments, especially when Susan’s eyes would sparkle with excitement and he’d wonder if one day he’d ever feel that way about anything. She’d maneuver the cards with the utmost gentleness, like they were thin pieces of glass she could drop and break at any moment, and he’d almost let himself smile. He never would, though, because he was still a Holmes, therefore still genetically indisposed for such an act.

Sherlock later in his life learned that Susan had died not long after she quit her job as his nanny. She was murdered by an ex-boyfriend who needed some money and was leeching off of her and the tiny, almost inexistent amount she had. She was stabbed eight times in her own living room, the very same Susan who would put an extra spoonful of sugar in his afternoon tea even though his mother’s orders were of strictly one. Sherlock hated himself the day he found out. When his mother told him over the phone, bile crawled up to the back of his throat and left in it a bitter taste that lasted until the next morning. Sherlock wanted to punch someone, punch himself. The murderer had already been caught by that point, but Sherlock wanted badly to be the one who had found him, perhaps because he felt like he owed something to Susan. He couldn’t catch his own eyes in the mirror for a while after that discovery.

“I think I’m going to bed.”

Watson blinks in surprise. “It’s five in the afternoon.”

Sherlock wraps the belt of his robe on his stomach. “I am very tired.” He gives the reply as though it was an act of courtesy on his part, unneeded.

“You said you were busy about three minutes ago.”

He slumps his shoulders in a dramatic gesture like there’s a sudden weight on them he can’t bother to carry, and then straightens his posture again. “Haven’t you heard of procrastination, Watson? My being tired at this very moment doesn’t exclude my desire to sleep.”

Watson narrows his eyes, bites his lower lip. “You’re planning something.”

Sherlock fakes an appalled look. “I am going to bed. Think of that what you will.”

He starts making his way across the living room and Watson says, “Tell me what you’re thinking!”

“Ask your friend Spencer to tell you that! He’s a psychic, he’ll figure it out!” He’s halfway through the hallway by now, his screams reverberating against the walls.

“You’re forgetting your tea!”

“You can have it, it’s too sweet for me anyway!” is the reply before Sherlock closes the door and creates a vacuum in the room from the instant end of the conversation.

Watson groans in frustration. “I could kill him. And I think I could get away with it. Except he’d solve the bloody thing in the afterlife. Oh, Watson, you were such a fool, left the clues right there for everyone to see!” He mimics Sherlock’s posh way of speaking.

He picks up the mug Sherlock left on the table and takes a sip. “A perfectly good tea, also. That bastard.” Watson’s tone of voice is annoyed, but as he takes another sip, there’s a smile on his face.

#psych #psych fic #sherlock #bbc sherlock #psych au #sherlock au #writing

4 notes · View notes

emo-does-things · 5 years

Text

To Reach A Journey’s End- 3

Authors’ note: Hello again!! This chapter has taken a while as I have been traveling the last few weeks, and its hard to collaborate when one of you is out of commission lol, so I've been making life difficult for my wonderful coauthor @ace--writes. But regardless, here is chapter three, and it’s!! a big one folks!! there’s a lot going on here

as always we’re not Americans, or a range of other things really, so if we mess up please let us know so we can get on fixing that! Anygay, hope you enjoy

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: eventual LAMP, background Remy/Emile

Warnings: Anxious thoughts, low key anxiety attack, food mention, please let us know if we missed any!

Words: 5056

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1| Chapter 2| or read it on AO3 if that is more your style

~~~~~

The most positive thing that Virgil could say about the rest of his day was that it passed. It didn’t pass quickly, or easily, but it did at least pass.

Logan’s company, as he was now one of the few people Virgil could say that he liked, meant that Science wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The teacher, however, certainly seemed to be trying to make it that way. Virgil could firmly say that he did not like her. How could he, when she had assigned seats. It didn’t matter how well he got along with Logan- He could turn out to be his closest friend for the rest of his life, AND the best man at his wedding- he would still hold a grudge against her.

It didn’t seem like he was alone in this opinion either if the scowls from the other students through the lesson were anything to go by. Not that he saw many of these, seated so much closer to the front than he usually was. But when he twisted in his seat to see what Patton was doing, which was more often than he’d like to admit if Logan’s curious gaze was anything to go by, he could spot more than a few.

The things they were learning weren’t actually that bad, in fact, had anyone else been teaching he might have actually enjoyed the topic, but he couldn’t find it in himself interested at all based partly on his grudge and partly on the separation anxiety he wouldn’t admit he had.

He was incredibly grateful, to leave science in favour of Maths, another class that he still wasn’t particularly fond of, but one where seats were not assigned and where it wouldn't have mattered if they were anyway, considering he didn’t actually have any friends there.

So Virgil sat alone, writing notes, and paying more attention to the scribbles he drew inside the margins of his book than the actual content. That was until halfway through when he remembered this was his last year and exams were a thing he had to worry about. After that, he tuned in for approximately half the lesson and still didn’t learn much.

Soon after the mild disaster that was his attempt at being studious he was finally free and on his way home. He said his goodbyes to Patton, where they parted ways at the front entrance, as Patton rushed off to do whatever he needed to, to look after his siblings, and Virgil started the walk home.

As always, he was home alone for about an hour after school before Emile came rushing in with equally rapid apologies and about four different shows and movies on his mind from work that day.

Luckily, today one of those shows was one that Virgil had already seen. Stranger Things if you must know- so he could put it on and only give it half his attention as he didn’t do the things he was supposed to, like homework, in favour of things he shouldn’t be doing, like Tumblr. It was a pretty good system for them, which they often fell into during the school term. It meant Virgil didn’t have to spend all the time talking and had an opportunity to recharge, and also that Emile got to spend time with him while also doing something ‘productive’. (Emile’s standards for productivity, in Virgil’s opinion, were at least a little skewed. Although his weren’t exactly better.)

They had made it through two episodes, including pauses for theories and reactions from Emile, and barely contained amusement from Virgil, as he had already seen the whole thing, before Remy returned.

“Hey babes!” Remy called along with the slamming of a door, as dramatic as ever, “I’m home!”

“We’re in the living room, sweetheart!” Emile called back.

He turned down the TV, but didn’t pause it, knowing that Remy would be in shortly to join them anyway.

They could hear him dumping groceries with just a bit more fuss than necessary, before he walked into the room and plopped straight into Emile’s lap. Emile smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around Remy and kissing his cheek.

Virgil looked at them out of the corner of his eye and faked a gag. Though the mushiness of their relationship could be embarrassing at times (especially with Patton over), Virgil always liked seeing his parents in love, he just wouldn't let them know that. Well, he would, just not on a day to day basis. Sappy was not his default setting, and never would be. There were at least three stages of ‘emotional unpacking’ before he’d come anywhere close to that. And yes, before you ask, Emile and Patton are in fact the only people that have ever managed this.

“Alright,” He said after their cutesy affection and whispered whatever's got too much for him to stand with only an eye role to defend himself, “Are we having dinner or what?”

“Well Virgil,” Remy said, with a signature smirk, “Your father happens to be a snack, so I think I’m set.”

“Oh god, I did NOT need to hear that, thanks dad. Time for me to go wash my ears out I guess,” Virgil said, almost choking on the words

Emile had the decency to be embarrassed, which only landed his face in the crook of Remy’s shoulder. Remy, on the other hand, just continued to sit there and grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes at them yet again, but the smile crept onto his face anyway.

It’s a candid moment, like one you would see on TV or someones Instagram. It’s a pity it doesn't last, as a very familiar voice creeps into Virgil’s head.

What the hell would you do without them?

Virgil’s breath caught, and his smile faltered. What would he do without them? After all, he would be without them… eventually. He’d be moving out soon enough if he went away for college, and the risk of either of them being hit by a car as they came home from work was astronomical. And regardless of right now, one day they would get older...

“Virgil,” Remy said firmly, suddenly he was in front of Virgil. When did he get there? “Virgil, babe, listen to me.”

“Virgil,” Emile was there too, When did they get up? “Virgil, honey, what colour are my eyes?”

Virgil looked up properly, though his vision was blurry. When did that happen? “Uh,” He paused, “Green.”

“Good,” Remy said, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head, “And mine?”

Virgil blinked and frowned in concentration. What colour were Remy’s eyes? Were they brown or amber? Virgil squinted, and his vision cleared, “Amber,” He decided.

“You’re sure?”

He was quiet for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, definitely.”

Remy nodded, leaning back on the coffee table. Emile was kneeling next to Virgil’s armchair.

“You wanna tell us what got you going in there?” Emile asked softly, a slight frown pulling on his mouth.

“Just, uh… just questions and, kinda... Inevitabilities. No big… it’s not really a problem.”

Emile gave a small, proud grin at Virgil’s catch, before it settled back into concern, “Can you tell me about it anyway?”

Virgil paused, before throwing his head back with a groan, “Fine, whatever. I was just… I was thinking about what was going to happen when I… When I move out.”

“Oh, you’ll have a grand time!” Emile assured with a bright smile.

Remy nodded in agreement, “You’ll have too much fun to remember your poor old dads.”

Virgil knew they were trying to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t as amused. He didn’t like the idea of not remembering them, or even not being here. It felt like the worst nightmare he could ever envision. Even if that wasn’t what they meant at all.

Emile caught on to that, “Sweetie, it’ll be good for you. I promise. It’ll be like spreading your wings. And if you’re ever overwhelmed, we’re only a phone call away. And like we said before, if you really don’t think you’re ready to go away, the local college is still an option.”

“You don’t have to worry about that yet though,” Remy assured, “You have Senior Year still cushioning you from the big scary world.”

“And us,” Emile added quickly, “You’ll always have us.”

“But what if I don’t!” Virgil exclaimed, standing up, which was slightly difficult considering their position, and beginning to pace, which immediately set a spike of worry through his dads.

“What if your room gets hit by a car tonight?”

“Virgil, babe,” Remy said firmly, “We sleep on the second floor-”

“A plane then! What if some madman comes after you? What if I fuck something up so bad you realise that you never wanted me anyway? What if some bastard puts a curse on you both to forget all about me, and I’ll be stuck on the streets!”

Emile stood up and quickly gathered Virgil in a soft hug. If he wanted to, he could get out easily, but he could just as easily sink into the hug… it was so easy, that he didn’t even realise he’d done it.

“We aren’t going to leave you, Virgil,” Emile assured, the ‘not like that, not like they did,’ wasn’t said verbatim, but what he said instead meant the same, “We would never leave you, no matter how badly you messed up, no matter where you go, no matter what happens. We’re here for you, ok?”

“Ok.”

Emile hugged Virgil until he was ready to back away, and Remy ruffled his hair, a fond grin decorating his face.

They knew how best to deal with the aftermath of these kinds of attacks, for Virgil specifically, at this point, so after a few more minutes of overly affectionate coddling, they left him in his chair to start on dinner.

After that, there was quiet in the living room. He could hear the sounds of them in the other room, and Emile would step back in to check on him every so often, but he was allowed to recover without being blocked in, the way he preferred. And the soft sounds of banter and cooking and the smell from the other room was enough to keep the quiet comforting instead of oppressive.

Dinner was a quieter affair than normal, or rather, softer. It was like Virgil was now labelled “fragile, handle with care” and their conversation was wrapped in bubble wrap. He couldn’t decide whether he liked it. Some days he wished that they’d just pretend nothing had happened, and some days he was very grateful for their concern. He couldn’t figure out what day today was.

All he really felt was tense, and tired. But that was how he usually felt, so why complain now?

“So,” Emile said eventually, “How was your first day back at school?”

Virgil almost groaned, but answered anyway “Fine.”

“Meet any cuties?” Remy asked, lounging back in his chair with a smirk.

“It’s his last year, Rem, the chance of him not knowing people in his year, or new people joining isn’t exactly high,” Emile said, giving Virgil a fantastic out.

“Yeah, babe, that might be true of most kids, but this is Virgil, the chances he hasn’t talked to someone is like, significantly larger,” Remy said, his tone lightly teasing.

“Well, you might have a point with that one…”

“So, Virgil, darling, repeat question- Meet anyone cute?”

“Let me think,” He said sarcastically while he kept eating.

Remy groaned, “Come on! Work with me here babe!”

“Remy,” Emile scolded good-naturedly, a fond smile betraying the only half stern tone.

Virgil smiled cockily, sticking his tongue out at his father. Remy leaned further back, mock offence written across his features. Emile chuckled fondly, shaking his head at their antics.

He took a moment, so that Remy was distracted with dinner again before he gave an actual answer.

“I… well, met isn’t exactly the right word, for either of them. That kind of implies an interaction that goes ‘hi my name is Virgil nice to meet you’ and ‘hi Virgil I’m x’ and then you like, talk. Which happened with neither of them.”

“Neither? That implies that there was more than one!” Emile turned to Remy suddenly, a far too excited smile on his face, “Honey, did you hear? A miracle occurred today!”

Virgil glared, “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

Emile leaned forward, grinning “Please, go on.”

Virgil sighed, “I had a debate with a guy today, in English. It got… heated. He was an absolute idiot.”

“What was it about?” Emile asked curiously.

“Macbeth.”

Remy looked over at Emile, “What did you expect? We raised a nerd.”

Virgil sat back all feigned outrage, “Excuse you! I am not a nerd! I have a very specific aesthetic that I’m going for here, and nerd is not it! I have not invested in this many black outfits to be called a nerd. Besides, if you were to compare me to an actual nerd, I just don’t hold up. Actually, the other guy I talked to today is a better example. If you looked up nerd in the dictionary it’d be a picture of this guy.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Well, I’ve seen him around before,” Virgil said quickly, “Worked on a few projects. He’s a fairly decent partner, I guess. We were assigned seats in Science.” Remy gagged, and Virgil nodded in agreement, “And I was sat next to Logan- that’s his name. He’s nice enough, but I wish I was sitting next to Patton. He got stuck next to the first guy.”

“The boy you debated?” Emile asked.

“Yeah, Roman,” He practically glowered, which Remy picked up on, “Honestly, who really thinks there’s fate happening in Macbeth? Doesn’t that just take away from Macbeth’s actions? ‘Oh, yes, I murdered the king for power and money, but you see, it was fate. Old ladies in the woods told me to do it!’”

Emile nodded, “That is true, but a lot of people like to draw from the obviously mysterious nature and place the blame there instead. It’s like any piece of media with implied magic-realism.”

“From its curse to its content, people like to explain the vibes with fancy words instead of just appreciating them,” Remy added. He was surprisingly well versed in Shakespeare for someone who hated reading.

Emile nodded, “We tend to try and justify acts as horrible as Macbeth’s, and a lot of people don’t want to believe that we’re capable of such atrocities, in media or history. And so magic and fantasy end up being the scapegoats used to try and soften blows in text. If Macbeth is not accountable for his actions, he can become a more likeable character.”

Virgil sighed, and nodded, going back to his meal. Sure, he could understand Roman’s point when put like that, but that doesn't mean he agrees with it.

Not much is said for the rest of dinner, but Remy and Emile did turn to one another, having various silent conversations, some Virgil was sure would be about him.

Eventually they returned to the living room, Remy and Emile laying on the couch as an entanglement of limbs, being disgustingly domestic and mushy. Virgil would look up from Tumblr every now and again, when Emile made some comment about the plot of the show and how he could use it at work, or when Remy said something particularly biting and sarcastic. He chimed in occasionally, but he kept mostly silent.

He was happy watching- both them and the show. At some point during the night they shifted, and laced their fingers together, which yes, Virgil did fake gag at.

Mostly because they were being sappy, but also because sometimes, it was a little strange when he could see both their matching soul bands on their wrists. The pale pink and coffee brown strands that looped around each other on their wrists usually filled him with warmth at their relationship and the future he might have with his own soulmate one day, but sometimes… Well, sometimes he couldn’t help but fall into old habits.

It was one of those bits of conditioned thinking that still crept up on him from time to time He’d spent a lot of time working through the effects the foster system had had on him, and his birth parents before that, but even now, sometimes little bits slipped through.

He remembered his birth mother’s blind hatred of soulmates, and yet how she still seemed upset she didn’t have one. She’d often told him that he would probably end up broken, just like her, his band would never come in, just like hers. What a lovely thing to tell a child. He knew that there was no way that she could know this- a person’s band didn’t show up until they were around eighteen, and plenty of studies have proved that having or not having a soulmate was not hereditary

And yet…

And yet that little voice in the back of his head always liked to perk up whenever he spent too much time watching his dads.

You’ll never have that, your mark still hasn’t come in. The voice growled. After a moment, Virgil smirked and went back to Tumblr. He’d followed it down that rabbit hole more than enough times and at this point, and this late in the day, he didn’t really care. So what? He thought back, a response he’d been practising, and was almost starting to believe. I have my dads, and Patton. Who says I need anyone else.

What if you do have a soulmate? It asked, changing tactic. And? He almost replied. And they’re not Patton.

That got his attention. That one was new.

I don’t want Patton to be my soulmate. He thought defensively.

Yes you do. You want it so badly. Because otherwise, he’s going to leave you for the person he’s destined for.

Shut up! Shut up, shut up! He thought viscously. He didn’t want to think about that. He was very happy with the bubble he lived in for now.

The little voice didn’t respond, but he could almost feel the smugness radiating from it, as it settled back to a simmer in the back of his mind.

It had done its job.

His mind raced wildly as the rest of the episode passed without him seeing or hearing any of it, his hand shaking the whole time. What if they’re not Patton? What if Patton stops being friends with me because his soulmate doesn't like me? What if the universe gives me someone who hates me as a soulmate? What if we don’t get along? What if I end up partnered with someone like, I dunno, Roman?

He knew he couldn’t leave until the credits of the episode were rolling without worrying his dads, but as it was over he excused himself quickly, barely stuttering out, “Shower,” before darting from the room.

Virgil sets the water to as close to scalding as he can handle, (a temperature that would probably have resembled something to warm to most people). The warm water was a fantastic remedy to tense muscles, and a perfect distraction from things like his spiralling thoughts.

He stayed there as long as he could justify being under the water, but eventually he had to pull himself out and grab pyjamas. His go-to set were still sitting on his half-made bed, and clean enough for another night, so he grabbed the soft pants and even softer knitted sweater that Emile’s mother had given him two Christmases before. The fact that he liked being very warm when he slept, and that he liked it significantly more than typical teenage-protagonists liked sweaters knitted by their grandmothers, made it a very good sleep shirt. The fact that it was the only place he would wear something lilac and white also came into consideration.

The additional fact that it was starting to get just a little too small was something he’d been ignoring up to now. However, the length of the sleeves was starting to bother him, just a bit.

“I might need to ask for a new-” He started to speak, thinking out loud, before he froze in a moment of absolute shock, as he noticed a dark-grey ring around his left wrist.

He tripped backwards landing on his bed, as if that would put distance between himself and his own body part. He sat there a moment eyes screwed shut, trying to avoid the whole thing.

With a few deep breaths, carefully following the 4-7-8 method he relied on, he found the courage to open his eyes and inspect his wrist adorned with a new soul band. Did the universe really think it was funny? It really did decide that after an internal breakdown about soulmates was the best time to have his band come in.

Maybe not the time, Virgil he scolded himself, and looked back down at the band itself.

There was a deep purple cord, it could’ve easily been mistaken for black, that was obviously him, which was… yeah that was in character. And then there was a light grey one, and two dark grey-

He stopped. Stopped looking, stopped moving, stopped breathing, almost stopped breathing.

That was four cords. There were supposed to be two. That was how it was. You either had two strands- one for you and one for your soulmate, like his dads’ and most other people- or you had none.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this?

He’d prepared for everything else. He’d have been resigned if he never got one, and he’d have been prepared if he did, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with this.

He could barely manage to get air into his lungs, but he knew he needed… he needed something… he needed his fathers.

“Dad…” He sobbed, barely audible even to himself.

“Dad… Dad, Dad!” he repeated, louder and louder until he was screaming.

There was silence, for a moment, except for his ragged breathing. Then, he heard both of their footsteps hurrying up the stairs. It was only a moment later when Remy and Emile burst through the door.

Emile rushed to Virgil immediately, “Virgil, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Virgil didn’t cry often. He had his fair share of breakdowns, but he didn’t cry. So why were there tears already streaming down his face.

“Me!” He almost yelled, but his voice was shaky and wet, “I told you! It’s me, I’m broken! I can’t even fuck up like a normal person! I told you!”

Emile blinked in surprise, before gathering Virgil up in a firm but, importantly, escapeable hug. Virgil sunk into Emile, face pressed into his father’s chest as he sobbed.

Remy, now seeing there was no imminent threat to Virgil, sat down on the bed. He waited a moment, before gently stroking Virgil’s still damp hair.

Virgil couldn’t see this, but above his head, Remy and Emile continued their silent conversation, worry clear in their faces.

Eventually, he calmed enough to pull back from Emile’s chest, eye and nose red, and still a slight hiccup to his breathing. Emile let go of him, and started stroking his hands instead, keeping a gentle, soft touch available to him.

“Hey buddy,” said Emile softly, “Want to tell us what that was about?”

Virgil wanted to say no. He really did. He didn’t want to disappoint his dad. But the kind, gentle smile broke him, and he sighed.

“It’s here.”

“What is?”

He held out his wrist, refusing to look at it himself.

“It showed up, and it’s bad and wrong and broken. I couldn’t even be the normal kind of broken.”

Emile frowned, lifting Virgil’s hand to examine what he was claiming to be ‘broken’, and on his other side Remy leaned in to see as well. After a quick gasp of surprise his frown morphed suddenly into a bright smile that only grew as he turned Virgil’s arm softly to see his band all the way around.

“Sweetie, your band isn’t broken.”

“It is! You’re just saying that” Virgil insisted, glaring in anger at his wrist.

“Not at all,” Emile assured, patting his hand “It’s really quite beautiful, even in grey-scale.”

Virgil didn’t believe that.

“It’s not broken, or wrong, or anything of the sort. I promise you, Virgil.”

“How do you know?” Virgil snapped, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms so no one could see

“Because I’ve seen them before. Soulmate bands with more than two threads.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, his arms relaxed slightly, although not enough to see the band again.

Emile grinned brightly, “You know I do a lot of relationship therapy, and I’ve seen a lot of different types of relationships- and soul bands, or ‘Braids’ are the more accurate term in this case. They’re perfectly normal, Virgil. And yours looks particularly interesting. The pattern is beautiful, there even looks like there are some complicated celtic knots in the layout, from what I saw.”

Virgil’s arms uncrossed, and his hands fell into his lap, he looked down at it wonder and confusion, “You’ve seen it before?” He repeated lamely.

“I have,” Emile replied, “With some polyamorous couples that come in.”

Virgil’s gaze snapped up, “Polyamorous?” the words seemed almost familiar

“Polyamourous…” Remy repeated, grinning slightly, “That’s like, the poisonous blobs under the ocean, right? Oh, the ones Nemo and his dad live in!”

Virgil looked over with a frown, almost certain that Remy was taking the piss, while Emile smiled in amusement and knitted his eyebrows together, “Uh, no dear. That’s anemones, though I do appreciate the reference to Finding Nemo, that’s not even close to the same word.”

Remy only smiled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling, before clicking his fingers, “It’s that fabric that t-shirts are made of!”

“That’s… that’s Polyester, dad” Virgil said, frowning.

“Oh, Shit… then its… ah, fuck… its the one where you’re attracted to more than one person or gender?”

“Close, but no dice, Remy. That would be Bi, Pan, or Polysexual.” Emile shook his head, half laughing

“Fuck!” Remy exclaimed, “Dating more than one person! That’s the Bitch”

“Bingo!” Emile grinned proudly, about to explain further for Virgil but Remy interrupted.

“My sister-in-law has a relationship like that.”

Virgil and Emile both turned to him slowly, eyebrows drawn in an identical, amused but confused frown.

“What?” Remy asked, raising his hands in defence “She is.”

“Your sister-in-law,” Virgil repeated.

“Yeah, I said what I said.”

“Your sister-in-law,” Virgil said again, “The one that’s married to your sister?”

“And their non-binary partner- they’re an absolute babe by the way, nowhere near as cute as Emile but- anyway, yeah that sister-in-law, what about it? “ Remy said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Remy- Remy, darling, why did you skip your sister in favour of your inlaws?” Emile asked, laughing.

“Because she’s my favourite sibling,” Remy replied frowning as though this was the obvious solution.

Virgil snorted and burst into a fit of laughter, hiding his face in his hands.

“Dad, you’re an idiot, I love you,” He said between his fingers.

Above his head, Remy grinned, while Emile shook his head, a fond smile on his face. The ‘thank you’ on Emile’s face would have been clear, even to Virgil, had he looked up.

It took Virgil a moment to come down from his hysterical laughter, which was almost to be expected with an emotional rollercoaster like that night had been, but when he did, he leaned into Emile’s side, and sat comfortably with Remy’s arm around his shoulder.

“So, Virgil, can you see that your soul-band isn’t broken after all,” Emile smiled gently, “It just means you have more than one soulmate.”

Virgil bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowing, “What am I supposed to do with more than one soulmate? How does that even work?”

“Well, I’m sure it will take a lot of communication, but you’ll get there. I know you will.”

Virgil looked at his wrist, running his fingers over the cords braided together, “And you don’t hate me for it?” He didn’t mean to say that aloud.

“Of course not,” Emile assured.

“Babe, like, of course not. I just said I got my favourite sibling through my sister’s soul braid. And now I’ll get to meet my second to fourth favourite children through yours,” Remy said, pulling back to look at Virgil from arm’s length, and grinning.

“Remy,” Emile admonished him gently.

“Ok, fine, fine, I won’t play favourites with Virgil’s future partners, are you happy, babe?”

Emile shook his head, laughing again, and Virgil couldn't help but smile along.

Remy wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders again, “We love you, Virgil, no matter what. We love you, and our potential in-laws, no matter how many of them.”

Virgil smiled, leaning into Remy’s embrace.

“What if I like one or two of them more than the others,” He said after a moment, voice very small and smile falling, “What if none of them like me? What if they like each other better? Oh, this is just a whole new set of problems…”

“They’ll adore you,” Emile assured, “Whoever they are, wherever they are. They will, because you are their match, as they are yours.”

“I can’t wait to tease them all,” Remy grinned mischievously “About the fact they fell for the ‘Emo bad boy with a heart of gold’ trope”

Virgil snorted, and slowly the worries floated away. They’d be back, as they always were, but for now, there was respite.

“What colours do you think they’ll be?” Emile asked excitedly, “I think that light-grey one has to be a yellow.”

“Nah, babe, I bet it’s green.”

“Blue,” Virgil smiled softly, “I think one of them will be blue.”

Emile began to gush about how pretty that would be, Remy agreeing that it would compliment Virgil’s deep purple, and continuing to speculate over the various ways he could embarrass both Virgil and his soulmates.

Yes, the worries would return as they always did, but for now, Virgil was content to sit with his fathers and talk about what possible colours would streak through his braid of possibility.

and now! the tags:

@deathshadowrules

@i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing

@haggendazs-dispersion

@jellopuffs

#emo writes things #sanders sides #tssides #fanfic #writing #sander sides virgil #sleep/remy #dr emile picani #background remile #LAMP #polyamsanders #soulmate au #highschool au #human au #long post #an emo original

18 notes · View notes

sarcasticfina · 4 years

Text

My 2019 Tumblr Top 10

1). 639 notes - 20 May 2019

look, i knew jaime was dead. i still choked up a little at actually seeing him. but i straight up strangle-sobbed when brienne added all of his good deeds to the book. because despite how utterly stupid their ending was with each other, she still saw him for who he really was (and who the writers mercilessly butchered), and she made sure history would reflect that. the only nod to all of the character build-up and redemption he earned is written there on those pages and it came from the only woman to love him for him, who he was at his core, whether he saw it or not. did she deserve better? a thousand fucking percent. and so did he.

2). 119 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: steve/darcy - "Am I your lockscreen?" "You weren't supposed to see that."

“There something wrong with your phone?” Steve wondered, watching Bucky fiddle around with his phone, tapping at the screen, brow furrowed.

“Huh?” Bucky glanced at him. “No. Just fixing something.”

Steve snorted. “Wasn’t aware there was something wrong with my phone. Care to share?”

“You remember last week, you dug a sketch pad out for the first time in months…”

3). 93 notes - 19 July 2019

Hiatus

Long story short, I broke my ankle and am in a rehab hospital with no wifi. I have limited data and am not sure when I will be back to regular posting/writing. At this point, I’m four weeks out of getting my cast removed but am unsure how much longer rehab will take before I go home, so you might not see me online for a while but I am okay! :)

4). 92 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: oh you're jealous! - bamon

Bonnie was on her second glass of totally overpriced champagne and it was doing nothing for her. She was the one that talked him into being her plus-one to this gala, which had taken no small amount of pitching, but now she was regretting it. Why? Because the whole point of having him come along was that she would have someone to mutually complain to about the other guests. Only here she was, standing by the buffet, picking at mini quiches and finger sandwiches, while he was over there, being the life of the party. Why was she even surprised? Damon thrived in the spotlight. And given the many middle-aged women currently fawning over him, he was in his element.

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie turned her back on the scene, and picked at a fruit plate.

5). 87 notes - 26 September 2019

medical expenses

so, facing down over $1000 to pay down my medical plan, i’m getting a little stressed. i’m on ei right now, which isn’t quite covering my monthly costs, and i’m about to be returning home from the rehab hospital to do outpatient physiotherapy for a few weeks, which means i’m going to be adding grocery costs to everything else.

anything you can share will help and i’ll be happy to fill fic prompts for my usual ships to anyone who does donate to my ko-fi! just drop them in my ask box and let me know you donated and i will get right on it!

https://ko-fi.com/A666AWP

6). 68 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: Ooh Starcy, “can you shut up for once in your life?” Thank youu!

“…better for you… keep you safe… don’t want you to be hurt… enemies… don’t know how long… the last thing I would want… don’t think I could forgive myself if… but I have to do what I think is right…”

This conversation had been going on for a while. Too long, really. And the longer it went, the more she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was hurt. Confused. But more than anything, she was angry. Which is what she would blame for the next words that came out of her mouth:

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” Her fisted hands sat clenched on her knees as she raised blurry eyes up to see Steve’s surprised face. “You’ve been talking at me for what feels like hours. I don’t need a Captain America speech on all the ways I’m a weakness and how it would be a favor for you to dump me before you run off on some world-saving superhero business.”

7). 61 notes - 09 April 2019

missmeggo929 said: I don’t know if you’ll write it (if not that’s okay), but a little Seth/Kate “Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

He laughed.

And Kate could’ve killed him for it. Immediately, all the excited butterflies that had filled up her stomach and the floaty feeling in her chest evaporated. She pushed up onto her feet, scowled at him, and stomped her way to the door of the hotel room.

8). 52 notes - 03 June 2019

routine kisses - 1/1

It starts innocently enough. Brienne tells him to do something, in that no-nonsense voice of hers, a demand that he help Podrick with something or other. With Brienne, there is rarely a request, more often an order. Jaime finds he doesn’t hate it. He’s indulgent, if anything.

So, he says, rather snarkily, “As my lady commands.” Passing her by, he pops a daring kiss on her cheek, laughing lightly as he keeps walking, far out of reach of her irritable swipe at him. He knows her face is red, that her skin turns cherry against her will, and that warms him even more.

It becomes a game of sorts. When she sends him off with some new task, he finds a way to kiss her cheek before he goes. Sometimes he pretends he won’t or he’s forgotten, but that’s only so she’ll drop her guard long enough that he can sneak in.

9). 51 notes - 12 May 2019

lazy morning kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

Should she ask, his excuse is quite simple. He knows her well enough that when she wakes, she’ll startle, make excuses, return to her respectful use of ‘Ser Jaime,’ which is far from how he likes to hear his name spilt from her mouth, not after hearing her heartfelt cries last night. He’s not sure he ever wants to hear her say his name any other way. Rather than wait for her inevitable regret, followed by embarrassment and excuse-making, he chooses to forgo any initial questions about his intentions or desires.

There is no strain, no furrowed brow or frowning lips, when she sleeps. There is only peace. Her face is soft, pale skin and pinkened cheeks and ripe lips. Not pretty, not truly, but beauty is a strange thing. She is magnificent. She always has been. A sight to behold. All too often mocked or overlooked or underestimated. Even he made that folly in the beginning.

10). 45 notes - 08 June 2019

top of head kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

At five-and-ten, Duncan was their oldest. He loved books and sword-fighting in equal measure. He was warm and friendly and had his mother’s blue eyes and his father’s handsome face. He was tall, imposingly so, especially for his age. Lanky with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked a far sight more intimidating than he was. For he was still just a boy. On the cusp of manhood, yes, but a boy all the same. He was Jaime’s little boy. The same that he had cradled and sung to and danced around the echoing stone halls of their home when he would not stop crying for anything. The same who proudly proclaimed he was a lion and would roar at people in greeting for the first five years of his life. The same who gripped his father’s stubbed wrist without complaint or revulsion and who agreed that a hook would be more practical than any fancy hand could be. Jaime’s little lion with his still round cheeks, kissed with freckles.

Created by TumblrTop10

#[text]#long post #tumblrtop10 #queue queue ca choo

6 notes · View notes

lunawings · 5 years

Text

King of Prism SSS Episode 9 commentary (Alexander)

FINALLY!!!!! Finally I can talk about a few big things from this series I have been dying to talk about....

...............What did I sign myself up for.

A quick rundown of what it says here: More and more people are becoming interested in the street-style and choosing to be street-style stars since the Prism King Cup. In the graph, the gold portion is academy-style and the silver is street-style, before -> after the Prism King Cup. Below it points out that Kazuki and Hiro’s “sparking” scores from the Prism King Cup (the Prism Watch data) were equal and suggests Schwartz Rose needs to step up their game in the street category.

Every time I laugh at this.

Every time I feel kinda bad afterwards.

But

So Ace was entered as an official participant. It says “reserve”, but still. I guess that may have helped to make Joji’s score possible and not break the system.

(In between writing my episode 5 commentary post and now, I got to read the interview with the director in spoon2Di where he confirmed that Joji’s high score was only because Ace joined in what was supposed to be a solo show.)

Flashy, huh. We’re going with flashy this time for “charachara”.... Okay. (Better than gaudy I guess.)

I love this so much. Kakeru coming outside just to watch Taiga exercise and get all sweaty and all that. I wonder how long he stood there. Or rather I wonder how long he watched with binoculars after heading back inside.

I’m such a dumbass. After episode 3 aired someone pointed out that this is Taiga’s mom vs. Alec’s mom, and my excuse for not noticing then was that it’s in the background and such. (Can’t pause the movie in the theater and didn’t think to check it afterwards.) But here the camera actually pans over them slowly, so yeah I have no excuse.

But regardless. Amazing!!

Another thing I didn’t catch in the theater. But I have never had a reason to know the Japanese word for asthma before. I’m glad that gave him an actual reason for being sickly instead of just.... sickly child syndrome.

As long as you’re happy, Victoria.

But really though, their relationship is pretty damn interesting.

I wonder if she knows he borrowed her clothes.

No I don’t know why these grown-ass men have nothing better to do than pick on an actual seven year old child...............

So uh. This line confused me for the longest time. The way he says it, I really thought he was giving “Daikokuno” as another last name and I thought it was some kind of DJ KOO reference I didn’t get or something.

But thanks to Crunchyroll I finally realized.... ITS A PLACE. He’s just saying where he’s from, and that’s how Alexander is able to find him. GOOD LORD IM SUCH A DUMBASS.......... Another point for Crunchyroll.

HE BIKED ALL THE WAY FROM YOKOSUKA TO YOKOHAMA

Okay so now that I have the luxury to pause this, as soon as I did I opened up Google Maps in another window, zoomed in and....

WELL THEN

At least I finally know where it is

BUT DAAAAAMN

Fuck asthma am I right

It wouldn’t give me the cycling time, but yeah, you can imagine.

They only have this one image of Rei doing a jump and gosh darn they are gonna use it to the fullest.

So during this scene and the next people cheer for Rei in the theater, but nobody really knows what color he is. There was a whole lot of variation at the beginning before people (in Nagoya at least) finally settled on red. (For the flames maybe? I don’t know if it’s official.....)

Alexander actually had a flashback to this moment on Prism Rush during the Road to SSS 9 event. I reblogged it recently on my @prism-rush blog trying to disguise it as part of my Alexander birthday spam. (It wasn’t.)

YEAHHHHHHHHHHH BOY

So if you have no idea where the heck this egg came from and what it is..... Rainbow Live.

But anyway.

I can finally FINALLY talk about this!!! Even though I knew it would probably be all over Twitter, I really wanted to protect this spoiler on Tumblr if I could. It was such a big deal to me when I saw it in the theater and I really wanted you guys to have the opportunity to be as blown away as I was. I could not possibly think of anything to say about it that wouldn’t be a hint, so all I could say all this time was just that Alexander’s episode has “a surprise” in it.... SURPRISE!!!

But yeah, when I saw this for the first time I thought it just came out of NOWHERE. Total shock! I thought this was not predictable at all!

But then it hit me. All of a sudden I remembered something. Something important.

Again, in Road to SSS event 9....

So, for folks who follow my @prism-rush blog, remember that one Alexander PR where he was looking into a box? And nobody knew what was in the box? But there was something weird following him? I even mentioned it and my confusion over it in my summary of that event. WELL GUESS WHAT.

We finally know what was in the box don’t we.

I asked a friend to see the card story to fill in the blanks and see if there were any obvious hints to what was going on at the time, and it’s just mentioned as a strange animal he picked up. Alexander struggles with what to do and not really wanting to take care of it, but then he asks himself what Rei would do..... (Whether he could see Momo at that time, I do not know ahah....)

So in the beginning after seeing Part 1 in theaters I said on Tumblr that the Road to SSS events from Prism Rush didn’t have much to do with the SSS anime, and most of them didn’t and still don’t. All of course except for Road to SSS 9, just that one, which ended up being way more important than I would have ever imagined. And this isn’t even the only reason either, there is also--

SO UH anyway Road to SSS 9 took place in June, so this flashback is taking place in June DURING Road to SSS 9. A very roundabout way to dating the episode, but really cool. I like how Road to SSS was significant after all.

And another surprise for me. In the theatrical version he’s not glowing here. They wanted to emphasize that he’s powering up I suppose eheh. I was really freaking out about this in the stream chat. SO COOL.

To the right of his little dragon house you’ll see some “dorayaki” because.....

Although they never actually mention it in the anime, his name is Dorachi. (Confirmed on Twitter.)

(Note: Dorayaki is also the favorite food of classic Japanese character Doraemon.)

Even though Dorachi doesn’t talk in this episode, in the theatrical special video for Alexander he talks A LOT. An UNFAIR amount. So much I do not remember most of what he said since I only saw it once and it went by so fast.

But his real name is very long (like the manager names from PriPara) and he talks about spreading the prism sparkle. I’m sorry, that’s honestly all I remember right now.

Will he show up again in the main anime before the end?

(Okay yes.)

And at least they gave you guys was a bit of original(??) art of him in the new ending.

WHATEVER THEY MAKE OF THIS CHARACTER I WILL BUY IT

Okay moving on.......

Urrgh..... okay so.............. When I first was watching this with you guys in the stream I was like UGH because I don’t think “flashy” fits here at all. I really wished they had stuck with “playboy” since it would work better with this scene.

But then when I watched it again, I realized they already used “flashy” once in this episode to describe Kazuki’s sweater, and it did kinda work there.

If we go back to my episode 3 commentary, my main complaint with Crunchyroll’s translation of “charachara” was actually less about the words they used, and more about how it just wasn’t consistent.

This episode..... is consistent.

..................

................................

Another point for Crunchyroll.

I officially cannot complain about the subs in this episode.

Another little thing in SSS I have spent way too much time thinking over is how Joji got here.

In every episode up until now, it’s always been Louis seen walking beside Jin like his pet. But in this episode. JUST THIS EPISODE.... it’s Joji instead.

I think the reason is because Louis is performing next, so he has to rest (since he’s not exactly in the condition he once was.....) So Joji scooped up the opportunity.

Whatever the reason, I find it really interesting.

HERE IT IS

My all time favorite Alexander face

In a weird way I actually think he’s cuter here than in the Prism King Cup

This song.... was not quite what I was expecting for Alec, but I love it. No part of me anticipated he’d just launch into a ballad but WOW. I just love how they picked something that really shows off his beautiful voice like this. Alexander is in my top three singing voices in King of Prism (1: Hiro, 2: Taiga, 3: Alexander) so I loved hearing him belting this out.

Now time for my like.... 4th(?) embarrassing confession in this post.... I had no idea this song was a cover until like AN HOUR before this episode aired. You guys were playing TRF songs in the stream, the original came on, and while y’all were like “what should we watch next” I was sitting there like “!!!!!!!!FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF”

Well, it’s a new song to me. And I think it’s perfect for him.

Poor Joji and his inconveniently timed fruit.

He finally gets to spend time with Jin, and he just can’t get a break.

I love the generation gap here. Kazuki’s existence has been so big to Taiga he can only think of Kazuki. But Kazuki and Hijiri are able notice the subtle differences that make this an OG Rei move.

I could certainly spend a whole lot of text speculating why Alexander did not change into his battle suit, but I won’t waste your time and just admit I have no idea. I’m glad he doesn’t, since it keeps the spotlight on Alexander since HE CAN’T PERFORM ONE GODDAMN SHOW WITHOUT TAIGA BARGING IN ON HIM BUT MMMRGGHGHG

TAIGA YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER

Yeah I was SO MAD about this when I first saw it at the midnight showing.

A lot of people change to green when Taiga comes out, but I do not. This is the only battle where I cheer for Alexander the whole time.

Not only was I mad at Taiga for being so dumb, but just mad at the whole concept of Taiga barging into Alexander’s one show to do basically the same jumps we saw in Pride the Hero again.....

But.....

Nowadays I forgive my idiot son. And I hope you do too.

This wasn’t the moment I forgave him. No, that’s coming later. I was mad at him for an entire month. But yeah.

He’s just so confident and everyone believes in him................................

So Alexander breaks the street-style curse and gets a damn good score. Higher than Taiga’s original score.

But just like Joji’s score was due to Ace, I can’t help but think Alexander’s score was a good deal due to Taiga.........

I had a feeling this would happen.

I knew long before Part 3.

Even back when I had only just seen Part 1.... I just knew the tables would turn in this episode.

Maybe it would be difficult to guess by watching week-to-week, but for me having Alexander’s episode as the last episode of the theatrical Part 3 just seemed like it would be WAAAAAY too much of a coincidence otherwise. So I had a strong feeling Schwarz would come out ahead at the end of this one. (I didn’t guess the reason would be because Taiga would get a penalty, but yeah.) And especially because the performances are kind of out of order to make this work? Up until now I thought all of the Schwarz Rose boys performed first, but Yu was up before Alec? And Louis is up next. Maybe it wasn’t a guaranteed thing that the Schwarz Boys always go first, but I noticed it.

So up until now score has not mattered much as Edel Rose has just sailed on though. But now it does. It matters a lot.

So this is the second surprise of this episode, and why I was saying it’s the beginning of the chain of events that lead to the end.

But about score mattering now, one of the reasons I have been questioning Taiga’s score the whole time is because I knew this was going to happen. So I just.... I just hope Taiga’s score wasn’t lower to begin with on purpose for mathematical reasons so they could get their desired progression of the overall score or something. IDK.

I don’t blame Rei for not figuring it out right away. Even though I KNOW this is Alexander, I still have trouble connecting his younger and older selves. I mean, getting muscular doesn’t make your eye shape completely change does it....?

Poor Kazuki. He doesn’t care.

So if I interpreted this episode correctly....

This was Alexander’s official transition from an antagonist to a protagonist. (Or just to a normal rival at least.)

During the first two movies and for a good long time of Prism Rush, he always played the part of the villain. But once Road to SSS started that began to change. We saw him reminiscing about Rei, making awkward conversation with Louis, struggling over forming a duo with Joji, etc. So I had a strong feeling they were taking his character in this direction, but this right here was the official turning point I believe.

No more destroying stadiums. From now on he’ll be spreading the prism sparkle with Dorachi.

And still trying to beat Kazuki but you know.

So I don’t have a source handy (if someone challenges me to find one I’ll dig it up) but I remember I read one time that Alexander was actually originally a character that was only created for the first movie. But then they realized they had to keep him on when he was just so popular.

So if you have ever supported Alexander, this episode was for you. Fans make King of Prism possible.

So.... one more thing I guess. Something I learned from the Minato episode was that even if I ignore controversy and specifically state I don’t want to talk about it, it still finds its way into my inbox anyhow. So I might as well get this over with I guess.

After Young of Prism Alexander was revealed to have light skin, someone told me a theory that mixed race children are sometimes born with lighter skin which darkens as they grow older. So up until her design was revealed, I had always imagined Alexander’s mother as a black woman.

So yeah. I don’t know the reason for his darker skin color now.

But I’d like to point out that in this episode being pale was associated with being weak and unhealthy, while darker skin was associated with being healthy and strong and just leave it at that.

And thus ends Part 3.

Next week begins.................. what I have been dreading for a long time............

So...................

So up until now I have been pretty tight-lipped about spoilers. But once episode 10 airs, the floodgates will pretty much be open. Episode 10 and episode 11 are so connected it’s really hard to talk about one without the other. I mean, once you know about episode 10, I seriously might as well. So after episode 10 airs, at the bottom of my commentary post and after a warning I plan to share some episode 11 spoilers.

Because I have been through this......

And I know how it’s gonna make you guys feel......

And since I was lucky enough to get some answers right away, I’m going to give you guys those same answers for those who want them so you don’t have to just sit on episode 10 for a week. I am not that kind of a monster. I won’t put you guys through that.

So after episode 10 ends, take a deep breath, cry it out if you need to, and get some tea.

I know how you’re gonna be feeling. I know. Don’t send me a panicked anon ask right away. Give me a little time. Hold on.

#king of prism sss #kinpri #king of prism #king of prism shiny seven stars #alexander yamato

52 notes · View notes

theintrovertedfaith · 4 years

Text

1st Post - Self Reflection and Introduction

I am an introvert. A writer. A christian.

These three facets of my personality, of my character, have significantly defined my life up until this moment, and they will likely define how I am seen well beyond my death.

I am proud to be all three of these. Without these traits I would not be who I am. However, I have to admit, being any of these three things tends to make a person an outsider in our current culture. Being all three can just be .... complicated. I am sure anyone who has any of these three traits could relate.

I have been an introvert my entire life. I’ve always known I was an introvert, and not only an introvert, but an anxious introvert. I love people, but I am not good at socializing with them. In fact, I would much rather be alone or spend quality time with the few I know really well. The problem is, one must socialize with strangers in order to get to know others well enough for deep friendships. My affinity for loving others, then, must often be tapered by our cultural expectations of small talk and large social gatherings.

I am also a writer, or at least one who aspires to write. I find it very interesting that writers tend to be introverts. I suppose writing is very much a solitary activity, but it requires a willingness to put one’s most private inner parts out for the world to see, which, to me, has always seemed to contradict the ways of the introvert. But perhaps that is just for the anxious introvert. Or maybe it is just weird for me. I have struggled to pull together these first two aspects of my personality. In my personal life I wish nothing more than to blend into the background, be an observer. When I pick up a pencil (or a keyboard) I suddenly feel the expectation, and the drive, to come out of the woodwork. Writing is all about NOT blending in with society, but exposing it, and yourself, to your readers.

The struggles, however, of being both introvert and writer I do not believe are unique to my experience. Probably a lot of those who are reading this post, if there are indeed any reading my personal reflection, relate to my experience on some level. Most of us who write were once readers, and readers are those who often live vicariously through the eyes of others instead of participating in their own society. But writing is a whole different story, with a whole different set of challenges and requirements. How can one write when one has not experienced? How can one write if one wishes to hide?

The third facet of my character is my faith. This is the one that seems to complicate my whole being (albeit, often for the better). Being a Christian in our culture is very complicated. While western civilization was founded on very many Christian principles, and being a Christian was, for the longest time, something that granted a person privilege in our culture, we have now reached a point in time in which being a Christian is counter-cultural. Christianity, to many, is synonymous to words like bigoted and proud. In fact, many Christians, or at least so-called, have given reason for the world to think this so.

Christianity is a subculture, which has its own expectations and community. Oddly enough, although an introvert and a writer does not fit into the worldly culture well, introverts and writers struggle even further amidst the Christian community. While the culture of the world had begun to embrace the unique individual, including introverts and writers, with ideas like “you do you” and subjective truth, the Christian culture has, and often must, hold on to certain expectations for those within its community.

Christians are called not only to hold certain beliefs but to act and respond in certain ways. I am not talking about sets of rules Christian’s must follow in order to belong to the group. Christianity, true Christianity, recognizes that Christ died for all men, all sinners, and the only action actually necessary to become a Christian is to believe that He did so. But like all cultures, there are expectations of character within the community.

We are called to love, to participate, to be humble, and often to not stir up discontent. This can present several problems for both the introvert and the writer.

First, as an introvert, the particular brand of love and participation can often be uncomfortable, or even nearly impossible. I think the Church has not made a lot of room for introverts or those who struggle with social anxiety. Yes, the Church is meant to be reaching out to others and involving themselves with people. But I often question where my calling, as an introvert, is in the Body. I cannot count the times I’ve felt guilty for not stepping up to take part in a Church social function or volunteer work, or for stepping up to do such work and then not being all that good at it. Did God make me an introvert and yet still call me to participate in the same way, spreading His word and His love socially as all the extroverts do? Did He wish for me to overcome my lack of social wherewithal? Am I, as an introvert, called to participate in some other way, and does the Church need to adjust expectations to accommodate those like me?

I do not know the answer to this question. It is one I have struggled with since I began my Christian journey. Once one has faith and understands the grace of God, there becomes a certain overflowing of the heart, a need to share the gospel and the love and the grace with others. I will not deny that. But the question isn’t whether or not Christian introverts should also express and participate equally to the extrovert, but how the introvert may do so. I am not even sure if there is an introverted form to equally be participating.

The second is that, as a writer, which already seems to contradict with introversion, there is very little room in the Christian Church. I have always wanted to be a writer, particularly to write novels, and so, when people ask what I plan on doing or what I do, the answer has always been the same. It has always been easy to say, “I want to write,” but, beyond those words, expressing my exact desire as a writer within the Church has not been simple or easy.

What do I want to write? That is always the next question. Setting aside that, without considering the expectations of anyone but myself, that question is hard to answer ... the expectations of devout Christians is that those in the Church working within the arts should and would desire to center their works around purely Christian expression. The expectation is to write Christian books that are wholesome and pure.

There is nothing wrong with writing these kinds of books except that ... they have already been written. These are the kinds of things that only Christians read, making the careful presentation of the gospel and the character’s journey to discovering it ... honestly, redundant. Christians pick up books that say they are Christian novels often because they are embarrassed to pick up secular books, except maybe a classic now and then (this is a generalization, not a fact for all Christians or all Christian books). While being reminded of the gospel message is never a bad idea, the book is not often going to impact them greatly because the impact is meant to be the salvation message, which, as a Christian, they’ve already received.

There are good Christian books out there, which incorporate Christian themes and beliefs but are not centered solely around a character coming to Christ. These novels, again, are often picked up by Christians, but the authors seem to recognize that the reader already knows the Lord. (One such novel I read recently is called “No Greater Love” by Gina Holder - which is a mystery/thriller with strong Christian themes)

On the other hand, secular novels expect there to be no pushing of Christian beliefs or ideals. Often, writing for the secular world means exploring characters and situations that are anything but good and pure.

So, as a writer and as a Christian, I feel a duty to express what is true. The problem is this: it is true that we should focus our attention on God. It is also true that the world often does not reflect what is good so directly. Real people don’t have easy lives because they are Christians, and they don’t suddenly start making the best choices. Finding faith can be a huge journey, one that requires us to face the world with our eyes open and our hands reaching out. We often learn to understand God’s love by first witnessing the mess that is human love. We understand sacrifice by experiencing sacrifice ourselves.

I think writing is a good opportunity to safely explore such themes. We can read a book and be in the head of a character who makes sacrifice, and when we finally learn the gospel, we can better understand what Christ’s sacrifice really meant. We can see love develop between characters, see where it goes wrong and it goes right, and suddenly the love of God becomes so much more amazing. For me, personally, reading secular novels gave me much of the insight necessary for me to build my faith and make it strong enough to hold up even still.

But that still does not answer my question of exactly how to balance my faith with my writing.

My point in writing all of this, which I doubt more than maybe a few will read, is to say that balancing being an introvert, a writer, and a Christian is a tricky task I have yet to master. For the longest time I was afraid of how these three traits appeared to war within me, but now I want to face them all and accept them all and use them all.

This little tumblr blog will be my way of attempting to sort it out, and if anyone relates to me, they are free to join my journey.

#introvert #christian #faith #love #selfreflection #introduction #infp #hope #determination #discovery #writer #questions

1 note · View note

ask-anyone-from-the-tick · 5 years

Text

Bellow the cut are my spoilery thoughts after watching season 2 of the Tick

I’m kind of glad Dot turned out to have a super power because being the only hero with no powers is sort of Arthur’s whole thing. I also like that she didn’t outshine Overkill and just step over him, but still looks up to him a bit and appreciates his approval. They feel like equals, and he’s still an awkward turtle socially.

THEY WERE SO CUDDLY AND AWKWARD ON THE COUCH, Overkill is def the kind of guy who can’t move if there’s a pet on his lap. He’s so soft I can’t...

I LOVE that we get to see more of Joan and her relationship to her family, she’s awesome and I love and support her. She’s just doing her best, and I hope those lobster babies come to visit.

Superian and Larry’s relationship continues to baffle me just a bit. Larry seems to just be a willing servant to cater to his whims I guess. I kinda hoped they were more buddy buddy than that. Apparently it makes Superian feel better to toss him way up and catch him lawl

The way Hobbs reacted when Tick broke the arm wrestling machine thing makes me wonder if Tick is actually the strongest superhero in the world, maybe second only to Superian ??? Or at least the strongest ever registered with AEGIS.

I really, REALLY like Sage. He’s fantastic. He’s also really attractive, is it just me? DAT VOICE THO. [take me on a wild nipple ride! jk omg I’m sorry]

That twin woman who was impressed with Arthur’s nerdy organization came off as REALLY OBVIOUSLY flirting with him, and his reaction was to just shrug it off like he wasn’t in to her, even though she was gorgeous, and Tick immediately picked up on it that she was flirting and got DEFENSIVE AS HELL like she was taking Arthur away and I just-- that’s pretty gay guys. That’s really... wow. And then she comes back and continues to hit on Arthur and he never once acts like he’s in to her, I don’t... I don’t know what to say but if Arthur suddenly starts pining over her in season 3 out of no where I’m gonna kms [not because he’s not gay but because it’s pretty clear he’s not interested in this woman. Don’t establish this and then force romance after we’ve seen there’s none.] Also when Arthur was picking out fancy clothes Tick had REALLY specific fashion descriptions and opinions on what looked good on him. He was like enjoying Arthur modeling clothes ajdlfdjas

Someone needs to draw Overkill being lovingly rescued by dolphins STAT

I honestly, unironically, think Edgelord’s entire look is cool and he’s very handsome. I think he looks like if Johnny Depp and Adam Driver had a baby.

SUPERIAN FEARS THE TUMBLRS. We’re his kryptonite.

Dangerboat... plane... whatever he is, kinda deserved a little more attention toward the last half of the season. The episode centered around him was the most emotional and it brought everyone together more, I really dug that. It made me cry. ALSO WE STAN MICHAEL, HE WAS TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD. I’m so proud of Arthur for seeing Dangerboat more as a person and making an effort to connect to him as a friend. <3 good job Arthur-- at the same time--

I HATE they way Arthur acted like Dot has a specific thing she should or shouldn’t be that was out of character. It’s like the writers wanted the female character to undergo some sort of oppression to rise up against, some form of misogyny from her male family member that she had to point out. You shouldn’t have to tear down a good character because he’s male, to make the female look good. If misogyny was gonna come out of Arthur, let it come out another way other than “this isn’t want you’re supposed to do” like mother fucker, she’s been taking care of you your whole life, she’s done martial arts training, she’s a paramedic, she is way more qualified than you. He’s the last person to talk that way to anyone and it’s pissing me the fuck off. He’s the one struggling with mental illness and no phyical ability to fight anyone, it makes no sense.

Arthur’s actor Griffin Newman, he just does such a fantastic job. The whole undercover scene was so perfectly on pitch, like... just the right level of second hand embarrassment and pride came outta me. He was so close to blowing it because he’s an anxious person by nature, but he pulled it off and came off more as just an awkward criminal with tons of money that was just believably nerdy. I loved it, it was so funny. Please give him all the awards. And that scene where Tick is on one side of Lint, way too close to her, and Arthur is on the other, and they just work her forking nerves was so hysterical. I died. I think they need to play up that comedic chemistry more often because Tick and Arthur bounce off each other really well when they’re not busy trying to solve serious problems.

Ok so the whole human furniture thing caught my eye immediately. The pose we are first introduced to is an infamaously disturbing pose by a real life serial killer who ate people and posed their bodies in weird positions and used them for sex and I forget what else. Anyway I tried to brush that off as coincidence, but then later on Dot and Overkill go to where they think this Duke guy’s lair is, and his house looks exactly like John Podesta’s house that had a statue of that EXACT same serial killer’s victim in that pose, and podesta’s walls were covered in creepy pedo art of little girls and drowning women. And the walls of Duke’s lair were covered in creepy human furniture art. I mean there are all kinds of parodies this season that are in your face, but I don’t think anyone who didn’t follow pizzagate carefully would catch this one.

Speaking of parodies OMFG I lost it when Superian reenacted that Superman scene where he’s like “Can you read my mind?” as he’s dragging the screaming guy across the night sky.

Ugh, I’m so sad that Tick and Arthur don’t get to keep those precious baby lobsters, and where did they get all the cute toys?? I wanna think Joan picked those up for them. Kawaii lobster voice: “Joaaan!” Tick is such a good dad... A family can be a giant Tick man, a moth boy, a hobo, a mimaw, and a bunch of singing lobsters. "SHE'S THE MOTHER OF OUR CHILDREN!" Tick drinks respect woman lobster mom juice.

I think I don’t know what to make of the reverse Green Goblin twist going on with Ms. Lint. The creepy voice is telling her to become a hero I guess, but not really? I think the joke is we think it’s telling her to be a hero, but really it’s teaching her to be a better villain LMAO

I’m glad kevin has a power and he was welcomed to come help even before said power was revealed.-- woah wait where tf is Karamozov?? I gotta tweet his actor he loves this show and he wasn’t in this season ???

I don’t blame Dot for being upset they want to defrost The Terror, but at the same time due process is a thing. I don’t know how that would work in a society full of super powers though. Because the moment you defrost him he’s going to find a way to escape. He’s the oldest, and the worst super villain of all time. This is why I’m ok with the death penalty and killing villains lol

I was expecting Walter to be some sort of MK Ultra sleeper agent, but the plot twist was, that’s what Overkill would become I guess. And Lobstercules. OH BTW I think she’s voiced by the same actress who played Captain Liberty in the old Tick sitcom! “Walter isn’t Walter? My feet don’t feel so good.” Aw Tick

Ty Rathbone drinks respect mothers juice.

Acting agent commander doctor agent Hobbs, honestly I suspected he was the main villain like the moment he was headed toward Lobstercules because something about the lighting and the camera work seemed to telegraph that.

I bet the reason Ty Rathbone feeds his black hole heart monster mice, is because it requires frequent blood sacrifice and that's the smallest sacrifice he can think of that he can quickly just put in there and placate it and go on with his day. I don’t know if he’ll be season 3′s villain or if it’s the aliens that just came back to reclaim Superian.

Which btw, I called that shit from season 1 episode 1. Superian showed up crash landing inside Big Bismuth which is the only thing that could trap him. He was a prisoner, probably because he did some bad shit, and he told Arthur he helps humanity because he just wants to be a good person. Like he wasn’t one before and now he wants to try to be one.

I want to talk about these, nearly involuntary dance parties Overkill rewards himself with... but I uh... I still can’t compute that that’s actual canon. That that’s a thing Overkill and Dangerboat enjoy together and he... he can’t seem to control himself when the music plays... And also that Dot AND Overkill both know how to floss dance... I just... wow...

Oh and that hug with Overkill made me an emotional mess, he just... he really needed that, thank you Dot.

This concludes my rant and ramble.

#the tick #the tick s2 spoilers #the tick 2017 #season 2 #ooc #thoughts

13 notes · View notes