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#i have seen it multiple times and it never lessens the impact
chronicallyuniconic · 4 months
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Do doctors exist simply to torment? What the fuck just happened😖
I cannot believe the fucking telephone appointment I've just had. It was setup a couple of weeks ago under "medication review" but didn't specify what medication they'd be reviewing. A simple medication review. I've done it 1000 times, usually with a pharmacist.
This time, a doctor/pharmacist/receptionist I don't know, I've never heard or seen before calls (even tho it's from the surgery number), "I'm ringing about your med review" I ask him to clarify which ones as I wasn't told. One of them is my migraine tablet(M), the other my asthma inhaler(A).
"How long have you been on M?" "You can't be on M anymore as they (are known to) impact your asthma" I explained I'd been on them for a long while and have not had any asthma problems because of them. I explained what does flare my asthma. Then he says "well if M are causing wheezing..." No I said, they don't cause wheezing, I've had no problems despite you saying they impact my asthma." He responds with, "How do you know its asthma, what if you DON'T have asthma?" is this guy taking the piss? I look at my phone to make sure I am actually speaking to the fucking surgery I'm registered with.
Like... I get inhalers every month, before covid I go to asthma clinic every year (because you have to), I had to have my tonsils removed as a child because they stopped me breathing & tonsilitis always made asthma flare. It's been there since childhood (thanks for the prenatal cigarettes mam). And all of a sudden my old ass is having to explain to what is basically a stranger on my phone, about my own asthma. This guy is sat there with my medical notes for fucks sake. I say to him "sorry are you actually questioning whether or not I have asthma something I've had my whole life?"
He goes back to his original point. "you can't have M anymore because of asthma" so I ask how to manage migraines without M. He offers another medication i can't take because they make you sleepy, and I already take meds that do that. If he'd looked...."oh they make you sleepy do they," talking to himself" well yes you would be quite zonked out so let's not do that one then"
He offers another medication used for "blood pressure." High, low? Who fucking knows? I told him about my BP problems for him to say "well let's see how you get on with it or give us a ring back" not even caring or failing to understand the frequency and severity of which I faint. Again, read my notes.
I'm waiting for a Neurology appointment I explain, as I have been having frequent seizures. "and what have they said about migraines?" IM WAITING FOR THE APPOINTMENT ASSHOLE. "oh yes, I see that here now, seizures, yes."
He goes back to asthma. I am just dying to get off the phone, I want this conversation to end. I am beyond livid. Multiple times he actually questioned diagnoses that are on his damn screen or didn't even bother to look at. He's prescribed something I didn't even hear the name of because I wanted to launch my phone, that I can "pick up" from reception. My guy, I am bed/housebound. Again, if he only read the notes.
Now I have to wait to see what this is, understand why and if what he was going on about with the M is correct. It feels weird to be suddenly told nah ya can't really be on this now, unless some rules have changed overnight and they're having to cover their tracks.
This guys behaviour and words caused all sorts of medical trauma to surface, that constant battle of not being believed, being second guessed, and this time it's about fucking asthma, you know my INABILITY to breathe. I must somehow be imagining it and not really need an inhaler eh?
The best bit, the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the bit that lessened my anger and brought me back to the sick joke the world is playing was "we would like to see you about your asthma and inhalers but due to STAFF SICKNESS, it will have to be in the New Year."
They forget that I have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, I'm just left to deal with this shit. Most of the time, I can't because I'm unable. So fed up. I just want to be believed. Heard. Does anyone do their job properly anymore? Do any doctors exist that want to help a patient or is it just fiction for the television?
Exhausted after all this.
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resipsaloquitace · 15 days
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I want to try to get my S3 thoughts in order while they are still my own and uninfluenced by all the wonderful analyses and opinions out there that I am dying to read. 
I like it! I really do. I can't rank it until I've seen the final episode but I can already tell that I will be rewatching this season multiple times. Not everything worked for me but I didn't find anything jaring or off-putting either. I understand why some may feel differently especially with E5's ending, but Wilmon endgame was never the only reason I watched or loved YR. And I thought the depiction of their relationship so natural and realistic and believable that it hurt. For me, everyone's characterization, with one exception, was entirely consistent with prior seasons. 
That one huge inconsistency was Micke. I just don't see how the drunken, *violent* slob with a drawer full of pills that were not all ADHD medicine from S1, that Simon was physically uncomfortable around, has become this mild mannered gentle soul in 4 months. And he wasn't really that bad, it was just Sara overreacting? Micke felt really retconned in a way that I didn't think was necessary.
I really liked how the themes have been developed across the seasons. But it's almost too much for just 6 episodes. So much happens! And since we've moved from petty school politics as proxies for the larger world to petty school politics & the larger world, I don't think all those themes had the space to breathe that I wish they did. The school investigation, exploring the history of hazing, going back to when Poppe (and Kristina) went there, Marieberg vs Hillerska and those students interacting, Simon in public w/o Wille, the Palace's PR machine at work, each of those things could have been the focus of episodes all by themselves.  Oh well, I appreciated they were there even if it was in a cursory manner rather than something being cut. 
I was disappointed to not see some things but that's entirely on me, as despite my best efforts to not get stuck on fan theories I did anyway. I just knew the drugs and Sara going to the police would be a major focus of S3 and both were dispensed with in 15 minutes. And the way the show did it is EXACTLY what would have happened in real life!  You got me, show! On the other side, Alexander has disappeared from the story and I wanted some comeuppance there too. And acknowledgement of August's addiction.
One thing I absolutely loved: the entire fandom (me included) had seemingly decided that the opening line would be Simon saying Wille. We were right about the thematic progression but oh so wrong about the path it would take. And that was awesome. 
My biggest complaint is not about the show but with the marketing. It revealed way too much. If I could go back, I would not watch the trailer. It really gave too much away and negatively impacted my viewing experience. The dramatic tension of some scenes was lessened and even ruined because I knew X scene from the trailer hadn't happened. The impact wouldn't have been so bad if the whole season has dropped. But now I feel spoiled for episode 6 based on trailer scenes that haven't happened yet.
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kusogamesss · 1 year
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Morimiya Middle School Shooting
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CW: Murder, gun violence, child death, sexual violence, cannibalism, suicide, gore, eroticism of gore, knife violence, glorification of tragedy and crime, misogyny.
Preface
First, I would like to make abundantly clear this is a heinous work. On a surface level it is reprehensible. Digging into it makes every aspect of it worse. If it could only be played with a critical eye that would be one thing, but as I will get into this isn't just some curiosity to dissect.
The United States has had 27 school massacres since 1927. 16 of these occurred after Columbine. All but two were carried out with the use of firearms. Since 2000, there have been 388 school shootings in the United States.
Canada has had three school massacres ever (ignoring the genocide perpetrated by the Residential School system). One of these occurred after Columbine. It was carried out with a firearm. Since 2000, there have been 8 school shootings in Canada.
Japan has had one school massacre ever. It occurred on June 8, 2001. Eight children were murdered. All but one were girls. The perpetrator used a kitchen knife. There has never been a school shooting in Japan. There have been two multiple fatality shootings in Japan since 1952.
Potential
I think this is important to bring up because, from a Western and particularly an American perspective, school shootings are a dark reality that happens with shocking yet numbing frequency. The Onion's perennial publishing of their "No Way to Prevent This" article is testament to that. While it would be disingenuous to say school shootings have had no resonance in Japan, it is true that they have not happened there. The distance from tragedy lessens its emotional impact.
This is to say that, in a vacuum, Morimiya Middle School Shooting (MMSS) reads as intensely insensitive but not outright malicious. It is, in a vacuum, akin to Postal or Hatred, mimicking real world tragedy without outright reference to any specific event. An argument could even be made that there is some merit to MMSS in its commentary on the why of school shootings. The unnamed player character walked in on her mother's suicide, her father was an abusive alcoholic who disappeared. Her rage turns outward towards those who do not give her the attention she was missing from her parents. It ultimately manifests as a desire to commit murder after the game's fictionalised Japan reports on regional mass killings.
Like Super Columbine Massacre RPG, MMSS appears then to be a work which asks for a societal introspection alongside our abject horror. By not referencing a specific historical event, MMSS has the potential to make commentary without inflicting direct emotional harm. Its gamification and unnamed player character have the potential to instill a sense of being complicit with the act, as with Brenda Romero's 2009 board game Train. Even its arcade gameplay loop, high scores, and unlocks have the potential to increase engagement for some grand payoff of self-disgust that one would invest so much time into becoming good at murdering teachers and children. A part of me held out hope in my few playthroughs that there would be some message at the end of it all, that this glorification of violence would have a point. Instead, MMSS is closer to JFK: Reloaded. It teaches nothing. It has nothing to say. It exists to shock. It exists to hurt.
Play
On a technical and mechanical level, MMSS is something of a marvel. It is an RPGMaker game with gunplay. There is an undeniable element of strategy to it. Suffice it to say that every aspect of school shootings are on display here. If you have seen coverage of new schools in the United States being built to 'confuse and frustrate' school shooters, you can intuit how the prototypical Japanese school might facilitate mass murder with firearms and explosives. The player needs to slow down to increase their accuracy. I leave it to you to put two and two together. The unlocks amount to different weapons the player can use, as well as cheats. The player needs to manage the loaded ammunition between their weapons so as to not end up reloading while students wielding poles lunge at them to stop their advance. The player has a very strict time limit before the police arrive to arrest them. The player gets the most points for killing female students. None of this is particularly fun, even if it were removed from what it is depicting, but that it has been done on an engine meant for traditional JRPGs is impressive. That it is mechanically more than pointing and shooting is noteworthy. It is just barely engaging enough to warrant a couple playthroughs.
Precedent
Discussion of MMSS necessitates consideration of its creator and their niche. MMSS was developed by エリック aka erikku aka eric806359 aka kata235. They are an ero guro artist. Their depiction and obsession with the macabre is not in line with an H.R. Giger type, however. It comes across as more similar to the work of the Marquis de Sade. Reading through erikku's Twitter feed and scrolling through their Pixiv feels like trawling through The 120 Days of Sodom; it is a display of an amoral libertine.
Some choice textual excerpts from their Twitter (roughly translated):
"Drawing muscles makes me want to eat them." "A touching coming-of-age story in which a young girl who has just lost her father gets a gun and grows up to be a splendid mass murderer." "If I'm going to die anyways, I want the human race to perish while I'm still alive." "I'm not a monster. Even for someone like me, I have human likes and dislikes. …For example, what I love is 'Decapitation'"
I think you get the idea.
Their Pixiv is similarly naught but ero guro. Ero guro is not some 'release valve' for erikku, it is their sole purpose.
Perusal
Despite this, MMSS contains zero erotic elements. Without explicit eroticism, MMSS is only a guro work, and thus cannot be said to be primarily for sexual gratification. However, it is also inextricable from its creator's main body of work. His illustrations of MMSS's main character are surrounded by nude women's stomachs being cut open, by school girls being strangled to death, of raw human flesh being consumed next to bare corpses. MMSS is not explicitly sexual, but it is implicitly erotic. The primary demographic is not you or I, but those already familiar with erikku's portfolio. And while not in the game itself, erikku has made numerous animations of the player character shooting school girls, their inflated chests jiggling, their panties digging into their crotches.
MMSS is unable to depict this level of fidelity for gore or lewdness in RPGMaker due to the rapid pace of gameplay. What illustrative art is present shows up in the introduction, endings, and when in the apartment at the start. For erikku's intended audience, however, those depictions don't need to explicitly exist within the game. One's familiarity with those short animation clips, those illustrations allows them to, in part, fill in the gaps during gameplay. In researching erikku and being exposed to the supportive art for MMSS, subsequent playthroughs have been marred by more accurate depictions of the violence and murder rendered in pixel form. Furthermore, I have seen that his illustrations and animation snippets are released in packs with other, non-MMSS related works of an ero guro nature. The mind fills in the gaps, the mind construes all of this as sexual.
Pang
In MMSS, during the news report on recent killings, one scene shows a middle school girl being escorted by police as her victims clutch their stomachs. This murderer committed their acts with a kitchen knife. They primarily targetted girls.
As mentioned at the very start, there has been one school massacre in Japanese history. It involved a kitchen knife. The perpetrator primarily targetted girls.
This is odious enough on its own, this unveiled allusion to the Osaka school massacre as tasteless as anything making light of the mass murder of children. erikku's fanbase will recognise this as a direct reference to his other game, Rouka de Onigokku (Tag in the Hallway). You sprint through hallways and stab students before you can be caught. It operates like an endless runner. The William Tell Overture plays the whole time. While MMSS references tragedy broadly, Rouka de Onigokku references it precisely. In MMSS one can even unlock use of a knife to carry out the game's mass murder in the same manner as Rouka de Onigokku's main character. It is despicable. It gets worse.
Perturbed
There is very scant documentation of MMSS on the English-speaking clearnet. I myself only came across it by chance on Backloggd. What I have found is deplorable.
Following the release of MMSS, erikku started answering fan questions on Twitter. Most of these are in Japanese, but some have been translated by erikku himself.
"Q: […] how do you deal with negative feedback or criticism regarding the sensitive nature of 'taboo' nature of your art? A: […] I try not to care too much about negative feedback and so on :)"
"Q: […] what do you use for inspiration before making a picture? Do you read about some real life murder cases? A: I often read about real life murder cases, and watch a movie and TV series about murder. But I don't use anything for inspiration. I just draw what I want to draw."
His tweets continued in their perturbing statements. Above the aforementioned illustration of Rouka de Onigokku's main character, he writes "I was caught by the Thought Police and was temporarily suspended. It was caused by the cannibalism animation, but I think all the zombies are gone now. …By the way, the situation in the picture is a very, very, very healthy illustration of a student playing a prank with ketchup and being taken care of by the police."
They also started answering questions on peing.net.
"I'm just painting 'imaginary violence against non-existent people.'"
"Murder, abductions, and transportation of body parts over long distances are very hard work, but it's better than repeating the incidents in a nearby area and narrowing the scope of police investigation towards you."
"I think there are various reasons why the culprit in Morimiya didn't commit suicide (including suicide by police). One of the goals is to know the suffering of the victims, including the survivors and bereaved families. It may also be the result of hatred towards the mother who took her own life. No matter how many people you kill, the hatred toward your mother, who took her own life and became a 'suicide statistic' cannot be cleared, but 'I won't die like that!' Is that the result of trying to persevere?"
"I have been drawing pictures of killing people since I was a child, but it was when I was a teenager that I start having interest in killing (anime) girls."
MMSS and Rouka de Onigokku are not just gamified depictions of perturbed minds. They are the machinations of a fucked up pervert. It gets worse.
Perverse
When looking up MMSS, one of the only results is the RPGMaker Fandom wiki. It provides the Google Drive link I got the game from. Far above that download link lies a link to the 'Official Discord,' with the blessing of erikku.
The rules for the 'Morityu Community Server' notably state the following:
"Rule 3. Don't be a weirdo. Keep edgelording to a minimum. If it's TMI, don't post it. You can love seeing girls suffer all you want, just don't tell everyone, because nobody wants to hear about it. Don't be that guy who idolizes mass shooters. It's cringe as hell and a sign that you should probably go outside for once."
"Rule 5. Do not talk about planning any mass murders or crimes of any form. You may talk about previous cases of mass murder, but do not talk about the possibility of yourself or others committing crimes. Even if you're not going to do it and are just posting it as a "what if", it is punishable by a ban. This is the one rule you don't want to break."
The server is a cesspool of racism, homophobia, sexism, and generally making light of school shootings as a topic. Users have /k/ommando avatars and names and banners. They share gameplay clips and compete for high scores. They share links to movie clips of school shootings, they share DOOM WADs for school levels. They pontificate about whether or not women get aroused during shootings. They cheer for Russia's invasion of Ukraine, for police murdering black people. They hide behind the thinnest veneer of respecting Discord's ToS.
Searching for MMSS information led me to a danbooru post making light of the Christchurch mosque shootings. The artist's commentary notes the inefficacy of focusing on the victims of mass murder rather than the perpetrators themselves, particularly when those criminals understand how to effectively use the memetic nature of modern media.
It was also on that Fandom wiki I learned that the art room in MMSS has portraits of several school shooters. Real school shooters. If this is not glorification, I don't know what is.
The citation for that art room tidbit took me further still. A forum dedicated to Columbine and other school shootings and crimes. A thread titled Video games about Mass Murder. Users laud MMSS as one of the best games about mass murder. Avatars depict children holding guns threateningly. The Similar topics at the bottom of the thread ask what games school shooters played.
It's then I decided I had had enough.
Perpetuity
I wish there was a conclusion I could make here. Some hopeful message about erikku realising this is fucked beyond belief. That Discord being banned. The host of the Columbine forum shutting down.
There is no conclusion. There is no takeaway. This is revolting. Researching put knots in my gut. Writing evoked constant self-doubt.
I believe there is room for societal introspection on serious, challenging topics through games. But when the act of playing tragedy is not contextualised, is not condemned, then those games will function as just that, games. Tools for amusement, not for learning. Something to strategise about, not think critically about. A pedestal for amorality, not a mirror reflecting it.
Irredeemable.
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arihi · 2 years
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(It’s another EEAAO post)
So I expressed this elsewhere I think on Twitter but I’m tired of stories that feel like they have to have an unpredictable plot twist or think that the enormity of the plot/world directly correlates to the quality of the storytelling. A good story should be a good experience even if you know what might happen, to me. I had Spider come with me when I first watched it for emotional support, wound up watching it again with another friend, and then when I visited home my childhood friend asked me to go as well. Naturally, I enjoyed and loved all three times. I’ve never seen a movie this multiple times in theaters, and there is just SO much in the movie that I genuinely discovered more things during each rewatch, and I have no doubt I’ll find even more when I watch it again next. To me, while it’s an amazing experience to go in blind and not know anything more than “immigrant mother needs to do her taxes”, the impact of the story is not lessened any more for knowing what’s about to come.
That said, minor Everything Everywhere All at Once spoilers for anyone who *does* want to avoid any details below:
Everything feels like it is falling apart during the start of the multiverse jumping, and I LOVE that the minute Evelyn starts to be able to fight back and figure out what’s going on, is when she learns how to say ‘I love you’. (“And really mean it!”). We see earlier that she desperately wants to have a conversation with Joy, or at least communicate at all to her, but everything is going on and there’s too much, and she’s never learned great communication, either. It’s a different culture. All she can do is comment on Joy’s weight and you see her wistfully staring into the distance after her daughter leaves, which is one of the very few times that day that you see her just, stand still for a minute, in the middle of all the chaos. It’s not a particularly peaceful stillness, mostly tinged with melancholy and wistful feelings. (The first time is when she’s chastising Waymond for goofing off with a customer, and she stares at the Bollywood movie playing on the TV and loses herself in the scene. It’s like a representation of her youth and dreams - not that she particularly always dreamt of someone sweeping her off her feet like that, but just the passion and youth in what could have been. That shot immediately reminded me of my mother, and I sobbed. Anyways.)
Evelyn doesn’t know how to express her love, hasn’t been able to say I love you, says it insincerely to her detriment, and finally everything clicks when she’s able to say ‘I love you’ with full sincerity for that first time.
I don’t know, I just love it. In the end, she doesn’t say it to Joy - in fact, I think she might go through the whole movie without saying it. But ultimately it’s not about the words themselves so much as being able to communicate that sincerity, and she does (especially in that final scene in the parking lot).
I love this movie so much. I could talk about every single line in that movie and how much it meant.
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currently crying over patrick brewer coming out to his parents. i will forever be crying over patrick brewer coming out to his parents.
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so-idialed-9 · 2 years
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Hey :) I recently listened to Harry's "Oh Anna" and was wondering what you think it's about? I haven't really found any discussions about it. Do you know if there are any theories? I kinda feel like it's about Brianna ... it would just make so much sense to me. "Every time I see your face, there’s only so much I can take" and "I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me" are rather obvious. But also "Well I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body" makes sense since Harry really wants kids and she is supposedly carrying Louis child. Also since it's a line from "Faith" by George Michael which already gives it a queer meaning. Also gives it a kinda cute meaning like Faith in the future that someday he could touch someone's belly who's actually carrying Louis'/his child?
Hi! This is my first Ask, thank you so much, I'm very excited.
I'm also deeply sad to say I don't have a ton of insight on the Anna lyrics. It isn't one of my favorites so I never pay attention to it. I think your theory is a good one.
Other possibilities -
It was released basically at the same time as Medicine, Harry's queerest anthem (so far). He performed them both on tour.
The media called Medicine "a bisexual anthem." They got a lot of the more explicit lyrics wrong, more watered down. They seemed quite confused by it (lol at that in 2021).
So perhaps Anna was a stunt song or a compromise song to lessen the definitive queerness of Medicine.
As you noted, Anna is heavily influenced by George Michael's Faith. Harry is a huge fan of George Michael - he has lyrics from Careless Whisper tattooed on his ankles, and he has talked about him and sung his songs.
RBB/SBB referenced George Michael multiple times. 1.6.2016 - the Bears changed their Twitter icon to George Michael from the album cover of Faith - where he is in a black leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. RBB wore this look a lot, usually with a studded collar - like the collar Harry has worn in several photo shoots, that people mistakenly thought was a lil necklace.
Harry has even been on camera several times wearing the Choose Life shirt which GM famously wore in Wham!
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Here Harry is checking out George Michael's art, taking it very seriously with the catalogs under his arm. I like to think he bought something and went home very pleased with himself, and hung it up immediately.
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One of the lyrics on Anna that jumps out for me is:
Don’t know where you’re laying
Just know it’s not with me
Don’t know what I’d tell you if
I passed you on the street
Don’t know how you taste when
There’s smoke in your perfume
Chew me up and spit me out
Nothing left to lose
Hope you never hear this
And know that it’s for you
I don't know what I'd tell you
If you asked me for the truth
Laying could be read as lying down or as in "to get laid." It's either emotionally or sexually intimate. Possibly both. And is now pining for it.
Louis sings something similar in Just Like You. A song entirely centered on how the headlines are all bullshit - and disclosing how forced closeting and other abuses have always been used by the entertainment machine and media to control artists. It contains exactly and approximately ten billion LGBTQ references per square second. Including, of course, George Michael's forced closeting...and forced outing, and how that impacted his career.
If I had it my way, pub lunch every Sunday
Cheap beer and it's okay
I wanna lay where she lays
I wanna stay in these days
Gonna smoke and it's okay
In Anna, the singer doesn't smoke - but the person they're pining after does. In JLY, the singer smokes.
So TWO parallel references - one to laying and the other to smoke.
Harry also covered Girl Crush for BBC, and it's one of the most heart-rending covers I've ever seen. It is not just pining. Not even pining 2.0. It's pining infinity.
An incredible longing to just bury themselves in their lover's hair, breathe them in. Scent is one of the strongest triggers for memory in humans.
There is a lyrical parallel here too:
I want to taste her lips
Yeah, ‘cause they taste like you
I want to drown myself
In a bottle of her perfume
I want her long blonde hair
I want her magic touch
Yeah, ‘cause maybe then
You’d want me just as much
I've got a girl crush
Of course here, the play on words is the crush isn't ON the girl. It's OF the girl who has access to the lover he actually wants.
It also makes me think of when Louis said his favorite thing about Harry was his curls or his smell. And how he was is probably constantly playing with Harry's hair.
The Faith riff and repeat of the line from the song
Well I guess it would be nice
If I could touch your body
Has the same longing for their missing lover's body, hair, scent, everything.
But in Faith the song goes on to say, basically, I need a break, I want you but I am sick of games and having my heart tossed on the floor, even though you're begging me I'm not sure if it's real and I want devotion and faith:
Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body
I know not everybody has got a body like you
But I gotta think twice before I give my heart away
And I know all the games you play because I played them, too
Oh, but I need some time off from that emotion
Time to pick my heart up off the floor
Oh, when that love comes down without devotion
Well, it takes a strong man, baby
But I'm showin' you the door
'Cause I gotta have faith
I gotta' have faith
Because I gotta have faith, faith, faith
I got to have faith, faith, faith
Baby, I know you're askin' me to stay
Say "Please, please, please don't go away"
You say I'm givin' you the blues
Maybe you mean every word you say
Can't help but think of yesterday
And another who tied me down to loverboy rules
Before this river becomes an ocean
Before you throw my heart back on the floor
Oh, baby, I reconsider my foolish notion
Well, I need someone to hold me but I'll wait for somethin' more
Yes, I gotta have faith
Ooh, I gotta have faith
Because I gotta have faith, faith, faith
I gotta have faith, faith, faith
Faith in the future perhaps??
Harry once said he wrote Two Ghosts during 1D days and he also said he wrote it "the first time he broke up with me." So I imagine he has experienced quite the rollercoaster of heartbreak and reconciliation and begging and love and confusion.
He kind of talks about this in The Kitchen Table oops! excuse me oBviOuSLy I meant From The Dining Table also -
Why won't you ever be the first one to break/
Why won't you ever say what you want to say
Maybe one day you'll call me
And tell me that you're sorry too
But you, you never do
Woke up the girl who looked just like you
I almost said your name
No shade to Louis, absolutely not, I am a total Louis Tomlinson worshipper, even more than I am for Harry. 💙 and he was doing his best at such a young age under incredible pressure and closeting and industry abuse and stunts and being told who he was hurt other people he loved and how who he was was something to fix, and he raged back at the machine the best he could. I absolutely believe he is still doing so and I look forward to anything I can do to help his master plan. Fuck the system. Louis Tomlinson world domination forever.
Oh Anna could also be a play on words, like Olivia is it an emotion? we don't know...
It does sound like Ohana, which is related to Harry's management company. Or Johanna. Or even Anne.
If the former, it could be his version of fuck the system song. I think that's a stretch, but lyrics can be stretchy and these would fit:
Chew me up and spit me out
Nothing left to lose
Hope you never hear this
And know that it’s for you
I don’t know what I’d tell you if
You asked me for the truth
I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me
I have also seen people say it's a song for Zayn and Anna is really Ana, codename for anorexia. That could fit if you believe in Zarry perhaps. I'm a Larrie but also a Ziam hopeful because it would be so nice and I love their nerdiness and their kindness towards each other. I do think it is interesting people don't obsessively ask Zayn to define his sexual orientation because I think everyone just assumes bi or pan, even though he is always in public relationships with women. His whole vibe is like he is so cool it would be offensive to label him or ask him to define himself, and you need to rise to his level, and that is not easy to pull off when your coolness is 85% shyness and you are in love with the adorableness of Minions, while also singing Pillow Talk and being rhapsodized over as beautiful and a sex symbol and even more offensively, "exotic" all the time.
So those are my unhelpful thoughts. But your idea is intriguing - although many people think Brianna didn't actually have Louis' baby, your interpretation could still fit either view.
I am tagging in @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk who has the best lyric analyses I know of but I didn't find one for this song. Maybe they'll have some insight for you.
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grendelsmilf · 3 years
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Wait what about the ending of otgw made it a different experience the second time watching it? I definitely pick up something new every time I watch it but nothing that's really because of a big revelation at the end, just because it's such a densely compact beautifully complex show I can't take in everything at once. But then again it's been a really long time since I watched it for the first time and I've watched it so many times since then I don't really remember what I didn't realize the first time haha
there are literally so many revelations /subversions / explanations that change the narrative throughout...... putting under a readmore in case anyone hasn’t seen over the garden wall (YOU SHOULD) bc spoilers abound
some of the big questions throughout the story include the following: where are they? why are they here? is the woodsman a good or bad guy? what does he want? who/what is the beast? what does the beast want and why? these questions remain a mystery until “into the unknown” + “the unknown,” the final two chapters. some other completely surprising revelations that occur throughout the story include the following: the people of pottsfield are skeletons. on the other hand, enoch is not; he is a little black cat. mr langtree is a thoroughly unintimidating, sad man who just wants to help his daughter. jimmy brown was in the gorilla suit the entire time. beatrice used to be human, and was cursed by a witch alongside her whole family. adelaide is actually an agent of the beast. beatrice knew this all along. lorna was the evil spirit, not auntie whispers. jason funderberker is actually a giant loser. wirt is not; he just thinks he is. the woodsman’s daughter was never in the lantern. these are some of MANY plotpoints that completely change one’s perception of otgw between first and second viewings. not to mention symbols & thematic elements one can only truly understand after having watched it as a whole. but otgw is actually designed to subvert expectations and confuse the viewer throughout, without actually lessening its impact upon multiple viewings either, because there are still so many other hidden layers to peel back, and the plot itself is only the first.
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letterboxd · 3 years
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In Focus: The Truman Show.
Inspired by Letterboxd data that revealed it to be a lockdown favorite, editor-at-large Dominic Corry looks at the ever-evolving importance of contemporary masterpiece The Truman Show.
It has long been apparent that The Truman Show is an unnervingly prescient film. The story of a man who becomes aware that his superficially idyllic life is, in fact, a live-streamed television show has gone from being high-concept to every-day.
Thanks to the three Ps—the prevalence of mass urban surveillance, the proliferation of reality television and the pervasiveness of video in social media—the notion of cameras filming our every move is no longer a paranoid fantasy, but real life. The twist being that, for the most part, we all willingly signed up for it, and did all the filming ourselves. As Yi Jian saliently observes in his review: “Not to get all ‘we live in a society’ on Letterboxd but I know a person or two in real life that would actually give anything to trade lives with Truman, it do be like that sometimes”. It indeed do, Yi Jian.
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So it’s something of a cliché at this stage to point out how we are all living in some version of the The Truman Show, and you don’t have to be a member of the royal family to feel that way. Yet, somehow, the film has become even more pertinent over the last eighteen months. And it’s a pertinence reflected in the massive uptick in viewership for the film as seen in Letterboxd activity.
During the month of February 2020, the last moment of the Before Times, The Truman Show had a modest 1,235 diary entries. That number tripled in April of that year, by which time the seriousness of the pandemic had become clear. And by July, deep in the worst of the pandemic, Truman fervor peaked, with a further 178 percent leap over April’s numbers, firmly placing it in the top 200 films watched by our members in a year of lockdown. (By the way, ‘diary entries’ mean activity where the member has added a watched date; many thousands more also marked Truman as ‘watched’ in those dark months, but didn’t specify a date.)
It’s not difficult to imagine why we might become more interested in revisiting this eminently re-visitable film. During lockdown, social media—including Letterboxd—took on a greater presence in terms of how we communicated with each other. We got used to seeing footage of faces more than actual faces. We were all the stars of our own ‘Truman Show’, and simultaneously the audience of everyone else’s ‘Truman Show’.
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Christian Torres boiled it down effectively when he wrote: “Now every movie I see seems to be related to my life in quarantine. I am Truman and I want to escape.” And Sonya Sandra eloquently captured the film’s increased contemporary significance in her review: “This is a real-life daylight horror film. The best kind. Even more relevant in 2021 than ever. We are all Truman, we all want to find what is real in our fake lives filled with media, capitalism and ideology. And it’s our job to fight the storm and get to the truth of it all. Nothing is real, everything is for profit, and everyone is selfish. Go out and find what is real, because it’s definitely not here.”
With its deft, dazzling blending of the profound and the humorous, the optimistic and the cynical, it’s difficult to think of anything released since The Truman Show that comes as close as it does to being a modern-day Frank Capra movie. It’s hopeful, but has its eyes wide open. There’s a darkness in the themes of the film that is never replicated in the colors on display.
While everyone involved delivers career-best work, we must principally credit the triumvirate of talent at the center of the film: director Peter Weir, screenwriter Andrew Niccol and star Jim Carrey.
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Star Jim Carrey and director Peter Weir on the set of ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).
Weir is a director who inspires much online love whenever his name is mentioned, but he isn’t really mentioned all that often. Or at least as often as he should be. The Australian filmmaker has delivered masterpieces across multiple genres, and it’s extremely sad that he hasn’t directed a movie since 2010’s not-quite-true World War II drama The Way Back, arguably one of his lesser works. That’s also, insanely, one of only two movies he’s made since Truman, the other being Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, the wide and rabid affection for which regularly kicks up on Twitter (not to mention demand for a sequel).
Weir doesn’t do many interviews, and while this 2018 Vanity Fair article marking Truman’s twentieth anniversary has many quotes about the film’s modern relevance, Weir doesn’t offer any commentary to that effect, presumably preferring to let the work speak for itself—though in this 1998 interview he did talk about the relationship between the media, the general public and the people we become fascinated with, as a “complex situation”.
The Vanity Fair article does, however, reveal a fascinating ‘what if’ scenario relating to Christof, the god-like director of the in-movie TV show played by Ed Harris, who offers up a pile of pretentious auteur clichés: mononymous, beret, etc. (beyond the whole god thing, that is). When Dennis Hopper, originally cast in the role, wasn’t working out, Weir considered playing the role himself, which would’ve added yet another meta layer. It brings to mind how George Miller styled Immortan Joe (played by Hugh Keays-Byrne) after himself in Mad Max: Fury Road, or how Christopher Nolan’s haircut shows up in most of his films.
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Ed Harris as Christof in ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).
And, at one point, it could have gone mega-meta. Weir, in the 1998 interview, talked about a “crazy idea” he had, a technical impossibility back then but easily achievable with live-streaming now. “I would have loved to have had a video camera installed in every theater the film was to be seen [in]. At one point, the projectionist would … cut to the viewers in the cinema and then back to the movie. But I thought it was best to leave that idea untested.” Imagine.
Weir also played a role in helping to shape the originally much more overtly dark screenplay into the cheerier (on the surface at least) shooting script, which is solely credited to fellow antipodean, New Zealand-born Niccol, also a producer on the film. Both men have done the majority of their work in America, but it’s tempting to credit the film’s tone-perfect sense of heightened Americana to the degree of separation offered by their foreign provenance. In any case, it’s clear that open-air mall designers were paying attention.
Niccol’s original screenplay made his name in Hollywood, and revealed a storyteller excited by big ideas. He moved into directing with the smaller-scale Gattaca, released a year prior to Truman (itself delayed to meet Carrey’s availability). Niccol’s subsequent filmography includes several legit bangers (Lord of War hive step up!), and his endearing dedication to lofty allegories in a genre setting makes him an increasingly rare breed in Hollywood.
Like Weir, he is not the greatest fan of giving interviews, but the Vanity Fair piece quotes him making an interesting point: “When you know there is a camera, there is no reality,” thereby making Truman “the only genuine reality star.”
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It’s a sentiment echoed by MusicMoviesMe, who writes that “‘Truman Show’ beats all other reality shows out there like Bachelors, Survivors and Kardashians. Come on, when you know there’s a camera at your tail, there’s no reality. So yes, Truman beats all reality shows out there bar none!”
The role was perfectly suited to Jim Carrey’s affected mannerisms, and his status as one of the world’s biggest stars meant he could relate to Truman more than most people. Then, at least. Nowadays, of course, we are all Truman.
“It is always incredible to see how far The Truman Show was ahead of [its] time,” observes The Closer79. “In a world where celebs are monitored 24/7 and we are showered with unnecessary private information on the web, where talent-free wannabes become famous and where you sometimes [wonder] what kind of surreal show society you are in—Truman and his fake show life cleverly have anticipated all of this. Only Truman knew nothing of his luck and he was granted an escape from his glass prison. We don’t really have this possibility… Aren’t we all Truman? Sometimes even voluntarily…”
Austin Burke concurs: “I have always known that I really enjoyed this film, but I had no clue that it would hold up so well years later… Could this be because the strange world that he finds himself in is far more similar to our world today? Possibly, but the idea and themes are so much more relevant now compared to when this originally released.” And while DallasFrance is conscious of piling on about the film’s prescience, his review highlights how there really is no limit to the film’s meta qualities:
“Instead of writing a review about how this film predicted social media, or how we’re all Truman, or yadda yadda yadda, I’ll instead fixate on the miraculous fact that two absolute legends were cast as primary viewers of the Truman Show:
1. The old lady from The Running Man who starts betting on Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger). ‘He’s one bad motherf*cker!’
2. The villain from The Karate Kid Part II:
‘Live or die, man?!’ ‘Die!’ ‘Wrong!’ *hooooonnnkkk*
I’ve never seen either of these actors in any other roles. With the second one, I felt like I was watching a character from my childhood watch a character from his childhood come to realizations about the characters in his childhood. So actually… the movie’s really about me.”
Never change, LB membership.
We are all generally pretty aware of how ahead of its time The Truman Show was, but that doesn’t lessen its impact. Maddie’s review shows that there’s always some new angle to consider: “Imagine being an extra in this movie… You would be an extra, playing an actor, playing an extra. Think about that long enough and tell me that doesn’t make you want to walk into the ocean.”
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Kev goes even further: “Watching other people watch somebody else while also watching that person while also watching the person watching over that person is a great reminder that watching is weird, and to be watched is to not own yourself. Don’t watch, don’t try to be watched. Just live.”
Or perhaps Will encapsulates the film’s ability to present an ever-evolving message best, writing that, “clearly, this is video proof that we live in a simulation.” Beyond mere prescience, The Truman Show is a telling mirror to whatever era it is viewed in. Its message will continue to evolve.
Now that we’re finally (touch wood) emerging from the pandemic, it will be fascinating to see what The Truman Show has to say about its audience and the world they live in, in years to come. Rest assured, it will be well-documented by you, the Letterboxd audience.
Also: can Peter Weir please make another movie? Like, seriously.
Related content
A Meta-Reality: Robert’s list of layers of film in life and life in film
Follow Dom on Letterboxd
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writtenbynightlock · 3 years
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synopsis: college kept your life busy. the miya twins also have a life of their own. with your secretive nature, things became complicated.
genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers
wc: 1.9k
warnings: college au, series, post time-skip spoilers
Part 4 | Part 6
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Miya Atsumu has had the reputation of being Japan’s best high school setter, as well as its best server. His accomplishments and background made him qualified to be the starting setter for the University Volleyball Team as they have witnessed his plays during National matches which led to the coaches having big expectations of him with his skills and Atsumu never disappoints — not until today’s practice.
Miya Atsumu was off in his game.
With a shake of the head from the head coach, this led the assistant coach to declare a water break.
“Atsumu, don’t let the fans distract you in your play, okay?” the head coach says, gesturing to the small group of girls in the stands. Atsumu let out a sigh as he glances up to hear them squealing --- a bit tired of the thought that they just won’t leave him alone. He appreciates the support, it even gives him confidence but right now, their support was more of a nuisance to him but his fangirls weren’t responsible for his loss of focus.
“Yes coach.” 
Atsumu grumbles as he grabbed his water bottle from the bench, aggressively drinking the cool liquid, hoping to lessen his frustrations on his performance today. Atsumu has always been a perfectionist when it comes to volleyball because he knows that he is skilled and of course, he wants to keep on improving to the sport he dedicated his life into. Not being able to perform well in practice makes him irritated as ever.
“Oya? Slacking off now, are we?” snickers Suna as he wipes his sweat, stopping beside Atsumu who had his eyebrows furrowed, glaring at the wall.
“I am not slacking!”
“Wanna know what your spikers think? We are not satisfied.”
“I’ll give ya a perfect set after this.” Atsumu clicked his tongue and looked away from Suna, wiping off his sweat aggressively. Suna rolled his eyes and slapped Atsumu’s back, making the setter cower from the impact and glares at Suna as he soothes the impacted area.
“Why do ya and Aran always hit me?!”
“Because you’re being an idiot!”
“How am I being an idiot?!”
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask Osamu for help on this one.”
“He might spill the beans on (Y/N)! I want to tell her myself!”
“Then what are you waiting for? You’ve been ignoring her for awhile now. Talk to (Y/N), Atsumu. If you continue being like this, then you are no different from her ex boyfriend. A total douchebag. Ignoring her isn’t gonna solve things.”
Atsumu clenches on his water bottle as he heard your name. His heart aches for abandoning you like that --- not talking things out. He believes you had no idea that you two kissed because he knows your memory is poor when you’re drunk. He had been planning to talk to you for quite some time but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready of the feeling in being rejected but this is something he needs to face.
With a whistle from the assistant coach, Atsumu, Suna and the rest of the players resumed the practice for the upcoming tournament.
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It was late in the evening. You just finished your last class for the day. With a content sigh, you gripped onto the strap of your bag before walking the empty University grounds where lights were all lit up, illuminating the University buildings with the moon and stars shining and twinkling. The cool and fresh breeze made it even more of a peaceful walk back to your apartment. 
Finally arriving the main streets of Hyogo, you were greeted by bright lights of buildings and people crossing the streets, some going shopping. The part of Hyogo to where you were current at was the busiest part --- the shopping center. Tall buildings were all lit up and multiple cars were causing traffic. It was just the typical night scenery every time you go home from university. 
As you pass by restaurants, your stomach started to grumble, in need of food.
What were you gonna eat for dinner?
As you stopped in your tracks and pondered for a moment, thinking if you should dine in or just order food for take out, a familiar car suddenly parked to where you were at the sidewalk. The window rolls down and a head from inside peers at you with a big smile on their face.
“M-mom? What are you doing here?”
“I haven’t seen you in awhile and that’s how you’re gonna greet me, sweetie?”
“Sorry. I’m just surprised.”
“Have you had dinner?”
With another growl from your stomach that was loud enough for your mom to hear from the car, she laughs and points her finger to the door.
“Well you’re in luck, sweetie. I cooked your favorite foods today. Hop in. I’ll let you eat back at your apartment so that I’ll also be able to see how much of a mess you’ve made.”
“Hey! I am not messy!”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”
Excitement fills in your system of the thought you’re gonna have a home cooked meal — the kind of meal that just has the different kind of satisfaction compared to restaurants. You love your mother’s cooking. Not only is it delicious, but it also comforts your soul. A mother’s love is definitely put on the plate.
As you sat down on the front seat and buckling your seat belt, your mom drove the two of you to your apartment building. On the way, the two of you did a lot of catching up like how were your studies and did you make any friends to which you answered a bit enthusiastically because you did with Kaori. Even though your mom knows about Kaori, you told her that you and Kaori are much closer this year. You really love moments like this with your mom considering how busy she is with her work. Too bad your father went on a business trip but the three of you seem closer than ever because growing up, your parents always try to accompany you when you were still a kid. When you got into university, your parents had already planned for you to start being independent to prepare you for your future.
Sharing some laughs here and there, your eyes were finally fixated on the road. As you just stared at the scenery, you can’t help but feel a bit jealous at couples who were walking beside each other on the sidewalk, all love and smiles in the air. You can’t help but frown a little. You regretted dating Nakamura. All he did was just adding to your emotional trauma.
You can’t help but wonder if there is someone out there who really is meant for you.
With the car coming to a stop, you looked around and it was not the parking area of your apartment building. You were still in the main streets. Confused, you looked at your mom who was looking intently at the sidewalk ahead.
“What are you looking at, mom?”
“Which one was it of the twins dearie? The one looking like a bee?”
“What?”
Looking at the sidewalk, your eyes widened at the familiar figure who was just innocently walking down the street, unaware of his surroundings as he just minded his own business. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest as the figure starts to near the car, still looking straight ahead. His varsity jacket hugged his figure as he kept his hands inside the pockets to keep him warm from the cold autumn breeze, with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. You observed that he had a serious expression on his face — somewhat troubled as he grumbles to what was in his head.
Before you could even reply, your mom honked the car to only startle the setter, him jumping a bit from the sudden sound, making you hold your laugh as you saw the expression on his face. It was priceless.
“Mom, what are you doing?!” 
As the window of the car from your side started to roll down, you started to panic. You didn’t want to be seen right now. You definitely wanted to avoid Atsumu. The odds were against you at the moment as Atsumu finally calmed down and looks at the car with a confused expression but decides to just continue walking but then your mom called his name, miraculously identifying the right twin.
“Atsumu-kun!”
Your mom says with a big smile as she waves at your long time friend. Your mom has been friends with the Miyas for a long time --- as the mother of the twins and your mom were pretty much besties. Of all the times you and your families get together, your mother still gets confused on who was who even if their hair colors were dyed purposely for people to tell them apart. 
You wanted to get out of there. Starting to unbuckle your seat belt and just hide at the back, it was too late when Atsumu peers at the window. A bright smile made its way on his face when he saw your mother, feeling a bit of comfort of seeing a familiar person in a street full of strangers.
“Is that you, Mrs. (L/N)?”
“Yes it is, sweetie. Did you just finish practice?”
“I did. What brings you here, Mrs (L/N)?”
“I happen to cross (Y/N) here on her way back to her apartment. I actually cooked a lot of food tonight. Do you want to have dinner with us? (Y/N) told me that you like my cooking.”
Atsumu gazes at you a bit. He smiles a little when he saw how you were trying to avoid eye contact with him as you kept your head down and kept fumbling with your fingers — a habit you have when you’re nervous that Atsumu has caught on. He finds it pretty cute. Realizing the possibility to where this was going, he’s gonna use this as an opportunity to finally talk to you as the words from Suna kept ringing in his head.
You turned to your mom as you were avoiding Atsumu’s gaze on you — your face tomato red from the sudden situation you are in — not to mention how the familiar scent of fresh lemons that Atsumu gives off makes you addicted to it. You gave your mom a look that just screams ‘stop embarrassing me!’ .
“Oh did she now? I’m happy to join you, Mrs. (L/N)”
“Splendid! Hop in.”
On the car ride back to your apartment, you can’t help but drown in Atsumu’s scent, oh how you missed it too much. You feel your cheeks heat up, knowing Atsumu was at the back seat as he converses with your mom who exchanged some talks and laughs. 
While they enjoyed their time, you can’t help your mind drifting to the night when you and Atsumu were being intimate. The way his lips move against yours. The way he caresses your cheek in circles and how you ended up on his lap. Was he gonna tell you about it? The sudden memory of you running and puking in the bathroom made you groan a little loud, making your mom and Atsumu divert their attention to you.
“You okay sweetie?”
You look at your mom with wide eyes, not intending to catch their attention with your memory. You blush bright red as you felt Atsumu’s gaze on you. 
“Why wouldn’t I be? Eyes on the road mom!”
It was gonna be a long night for you. 
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Taglist: @softiebadbitch​ @underratedmage​ @haikyuu-appreciation-club​
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somarusha · 2 years
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𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵  𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓱  𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵-𝓑𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰  𝓲𝓷  𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭  𝓛𝓪𝓽𝓮  𝓐𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮
 “Adolescence (10-19 years) is a unique and formative time. Multiple physical, emotional and social changes, including exposure to poverty, abuse, or violence, can make adolescents vulnerable to mental health problems. Promoting psychological well-being and protecting adolescents from adverse experiences and risk factors that may impact their potential to thrive are critical for their well-being during adolescence and for their physical and mental health in adulthood.”   - World Health Organization
      Entering the adolescent stage is fun but never easy. This would be the stage where we are expected to think and act more maturely than we are when we’re still a child. In here we are slowly succumbing in the ways and life of most young adults. This is where the transitioning of childhood to adulthood occurs. Many changes would be seen mentally and physically specially because this is the phase where puberty hits an individual.  We will definitely encounter many challenges that would affect or even shatter our mental health and well-being as a person.
    Emotional disorders are common in adolescence. It is one of the downside of adulthood. Some may even develop depression due to academic, work, and peer pressure. Others may feel conscious and down about their physical appearance and compare themselves to others. Often times, many seeks attention by means of social media validation.
    Have you ever feel insecure and anxious or jealous about someone or something others have that you don’t? You probably have been experiencing stress, anxiety, and consciousness about yourself most times because I do, and that’s completely understandable. I often compare myself to others. I even wish to be them sometimes. It’s like, why do they have this and that while I’m here all day contemplating about life? It just feels so unfair that they’re living their best out there and I’m struggling to live. Why do I have to be on the other side of life? I know it’s not right to feel envious but let’s admit, it can’t be helped. It just somehow find ways to creep into me and then I would feel so down after. We would always want to fit-in with the standards in some ways and when not met, we seek validation from others. And I don’t think it should be normalized but it’s common for most. What’s not understandable is dwelling on it and hating on others for doing well in life. However we cannot simply judge others for feeling this way because we’re never truly in their shoes. We all have this phase of life at some point and there’s no need of shaming others for feeling that way just because you got past through it.   
   That is why it is important for everyone to learn how to accept everything in ourselves most especially the changes that occurs within us. It is essential to address the needs of adolescence. Learn how to appreciate your best assets and strengthen your weaknesses. Always affirm yourself and be the first one to accept who and what you are. Accept yourself but still find ways to improve and be the better version of you.  If you would ever occur any of these problems, don’t be afraid to seek professional help as it does not lessen you as a person . Handling it is crucial and it’s better to get proper help for you to really overcome it. Engage in many social and creative activities with your family, loved ones, friends, or even just by yourself. Life would never easy but you won’t always be alone in your journey.
Ruby Rose Bagaporo
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loganscanons · 3 years
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what friends are for
Context: Prue wakes up in Lou’s room after an episode of madness, and Lou is a good friend and is there for her.
Breaching into consciousness from a black void, Prue slowly opened her eyes. She instantly regretted it as a wave vertigo slammed into her. Everything within her sight was tripled, shadowed by a hue of drunk purplish-blue and highlighted by violent pink, not unlike the layered colors of a 3D movie. The outlines of objects vibrated uneasily. A bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand flickered in and out of reality like a dying neon sign. Multiple realities layered on top of each other, and nothing was sure if it was meant to exist. As her brain instinctively tried to make sense of the images, a sharp needling sensation erupted behind her eyes and ripped her mind open with a searing and blinding pain. She mentally wrestled between the layered realities in front of her and the burning light that was bleeding into her brain.
She shut her eyes, blocking out the confused images, and took a deep, slow breath. Imagining a threaded needle, she sewed the tear in her mind shut, matching the timing of her slow breaths with each stitch piercing the fabric of her mind. With deliberate care, she turned away the overwhelming amount of information trying to infiltrate her thoughts.
That done, she turned her attention to her emotions, gauging their stability. Exhaustion and numbness hung over her. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Her eyes closed, she kept her breathing even and slow, and grasped for memories of what she’d been doing before she was unconscious. She must have had a fit of madness. It would explain the emotional exhaustion and the gaps in her memory. She breathed out a long breath and opened her eyes again.
This time, Prue’s vision was normal. She was only seeing one reality, the reality she lived in. And she was in a room she recognized. Lou’s bedroom. She let out a relieved sigh, and without moving, she glanced around the room. Lou was across the room leaning back in their desk chair with one leg propped up on their desk and the other bent up so they could rest their journal against it. Their pen moved smoothly across the page. Prue watched as they pulled back and tilted their head, rereading what they’d written. They tapped their pen against their lower lip and hummed to themself. Prue was fairly certain Lou wasn’t messing with her brain chemistry, and the feeling of appreciation and admiration she had for them in that moment was completely organic. 
Their considerate expression slipped into a smile as they looked up and their warm brown eyes met hers.
“Hey! You’re awake,” Lou said. They pulled their leg off their desk, then closed their journal and placed it on a stack of notebooks. They took a seat beside Prue on the bed and asked, “How are you feeling?”
She was feeling awful. In addition to the emotional hangover, the skin on her arms and back felt chafed and uncomfortable, feeling like a shirt that didn’t fit quite right. There was a deep ache in her muscles that made her feel weak and fragile. Though she couldn’t remember it, Prue knew she must’ve transformed.
Prue braced herself, then pushed herself into a sitting position, ignoring the deep ache. The thin blanket that had been draped over her fell from her shoulders and puddled in her lap. She tensed the muscles in her arms, then relaxed, trying to get even a small amount of relief from the ache.
The pain and emotional hangover were bad, but nothing that anyone else needed to be concerned about. 
“It’s nothing to fret about,” she said to Lou, her voice soft. 
Lou laughed, a warm, good-natured sound that sent a surge of comfort through Prue. She ignored the feeling, figuring it was manufactured by them.
“That doesn’t answer the question,” they said, their tone light and friendly. “What—”
Whatever Lou was going to ask was cut off by a soft, startled noise from Prue.
She was looking down at her body. The slate blue dress she’d put on that morning no longer covered her frame. Instead, she wore a gray t-shirt that was a few sizes too big and a pair of thick, white tights. Her arms were bare, and though the tights kept her skin covered, they fit to the shape of her legs and made her feel exposed. She might as well have been nude. Her cheeks flushing, she covered her thighs completely with the thin blanket, then turned her gaze to Lou.
“I transformed, didn’t I?” Prue said.
Lou nodded, their expression sympathetic. Prue straightened her back and tilted her chin up, trying to regather her dignity and fight off the flustered, embarrassed feeling that was mounting within her.
“I don’t remember what happened,” she said.
“I wasn’t there,” Lou said, moving closer to Prue, but not close enough to touch her.  “Truck brought you home.” At the word home, Lou hit her with a rush of pleasure. “They said you were okay one minute, then, well, you snapped. They got you back to yourself pretty quickly, but not before you grew a few tendrils. It must have exhausted you.” The sympathy in their voice was palpable. But perhaps that was as manufactured as the chemical releases they controlled in Prue’s brain. “You could barely stand when Truck brought you home.”
“Truck,” Prue said quietly. The color drained from her face, then her cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink than before as she processed what that meant. “This is their shirt?” she pinched the fabric of the t-shirt between her forefinger and thumb.
Lou nodded and bent their head toward her. Prue caught the scent of their perfume, an alluring scent that she couldn’t quite place. “You were wearing it when you got home.” Another rush of comfort and pleasure at the word home. Prue did her best to ignore it. 
She had transformed without planning to, which of course meant her clothes ripped off. And that meant she’d been all but nude in front of Truck, and who knows who else. Where had they been when it had happened? Who had seen? This was the second time this had happened, but last time Truck hadn’t thought to give her his shirt and they’d brought Prue home in just her bra and tights. Her cheeks grew warmer at the memory. She touched her bra strap through the gray t-shirt. It appeared that her bra had again survived the destruction her tendrils had caused, which was a small comfort. She was mortified regardless.
Lou held out their hand, their palm facing up. Prue wasn’t keen on being touched by other people, or any living creature at all, if she was being honest. Even the gentlest brush against her would make her bristle. But, Lou knew this. They were inviting physical contact, but letting Prue make the decision to initiate. Touch, something that usually made her uncomfortable and put her on edge, seemed okay right now, maybe even nice, if it was coming from Lou. She placed her hand in Lou’s and a warm, happy feeling flooded her brain. The feeling eased the discomfort and embarrassment of being practically naked in front of Truck and who knows who else. This time, she didn’t try to resist the chemical release Lou was undoubtedly causing.
Lou stroked their thumb over the back of Prue’s hand, passing over the pale red scars that marked where her skin split open every time her arms morphed into inky black tendrils. Though her muscles and bones pieced themselves back together as soon as she retracted her tendrils, her nerves always seemed to take longer to get back into order. She could barely feel Lou’s touch. But, in a few hours, she would be on the opposite end of that spectrum. She would be over-sensitive, and even the brush of sheets against her legs would hurt. The pain and ache in her muscles would worsen. Her skin would feel unbearably tight and itchy. But for now, she could enjoy the unobtrusive sensation of Lou gently caressing her hand.
“You need to hydrate,” Lou said. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” Prue said reflexively. 
Lou smiled and massaged their thumb between Prue’s knuckles. “Are you?” they asked.
In truth, she could benefit from something to eat, but a lifetime of conditioning had taught her not to impose. 
“If something is already made, I’ll eat that,” she said. 
“If you could eat anything, what would you want?” they asked. Prue felt herself getting more relaxed the longer she sat with them.
She wanted to say that anything would be fine, but that wasn’t the answer they wanted. For a few seconds she said nothing, then said, “Oatmeal? Or toast with jam. Nothing rich or heavy, please.”
Episodes of madness could leave her feeling queasy. She wanted comfort food. 
“Okay, easy. I can get that for you. What else do you need?” they asked.
Prue noted the way Lou has asked the question. Not do you need anything else? The way they phrased things was deliberate, and in this case, they were trying to convince Prue to let go of her ingrained habit of deferring to others on things that didn’t heavily impact her. There were many things Prue would never trust about Lou, but at this point she knew that they genuinely didn’t see helping their friends as a bother.
“Do you have the balm I use?”
“Of course,” Lou said. With a smile, they added, “What is this, amateur hour?”
They turned, letting go of Prue’s hand to grab the bottle of Gatorade and a small, cylindrical tub off the nightstand. They handed both to her. 
“Anything else?”
Prue hesitated, bringing the Gatorade bottle to her lips. She didn’t need anything else, but she knew Lou wasn’t actually asking what she needed; she was asking what she wanted. What would make her most comfortable. What would be helpful.
“May I have a cup of ice, please?” Prue asked. 
“Of course,” they said. “I’ll be right back.”
As Lou left their bedroom, Prue unscrewed the lid of the balm they had handed her, then rubbed a generous amount on her arms. It would lessen the discomfort she was bound to feel later. 
She was about to attempt to rub some on her back as well when Lou returned and handed her the cup of ice.
“Want help?” Lou asked. They nodded at the balm, and their hair fell like a dark curtain over their shoulder. Often Prue couldn’t be sure if she found Lou genuinely charming or if they’d trained her into feeling that way. But she was fairly certain at that moment that the warmth in their eyes and their friendly smile still would have made her feel more at ease, regardless of whether Lou used their power. Defying her usual aversion to touch, Prue nodded and turned so her back faced them. 
Lou sat on the bed again. Prue pulled her hair over her shoulder as Lou lifted the gray t-shirt and rubbed the balm over the scars that covered Prue’s back. Their touch felt far away, thanks to her numbed nerves. 
Prue stuck her fingers into the cup Lou handed her, fishing for an ice cube. She put one in her mouth, then gripped an ice cube in each hand. The ice in her mouth was cold enough to elicit the beginnings of a brain freeze. Which was good. The cold of the ice would help her stay grounded. 
With a slow, deep breath, Prue closed her eyes. She relaxed the walls she’d put up, letting the knowledge of the cosmos seep through a crack. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes rolled back. The sounds of the Haven melted away. There was a far away cold feeling tingling her hands and mouth, reminding her of her body, reminding her not to let herself slip. She was more susceptible to fits of madness after she’d recently had one, but she wanted to remember what happened. 
She’d had years to practice navigating the vast, seemingly endless visions she had access to, and it didn’t take her long to find the event of that afternoon. She watched, forcing herself to remain emotionless, as she and Truck left the Haven. A viewer of her own life, she followed them to a professor’s office. Something about the professor made her feel weird. Uneasy and on edge. Frazzled. Was it his mannerisms? She couldn’t pin down what was wrong. She tried to prod deeper, to see what effect this professor could have on her life, but as soon as she did, the crack she’d opened her mind widened. Her heartbeat quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm. She regained control; it was easier than she’d anticipated. Something at the edge of her consciousness suggested that she’d had help keeping her emotions in check.
For now, Prue would leave the professor be. She could look into him later. She followed herself and Truck away from campus. Prue from earlier that day was walking stiffly. The professor had affected her more than she realized and she was struggling to maintain her control over her mind. Prue watched herself lose control. Watched her eyes roll back into her head as her consciousness was overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure what did it, and she wasn’t confident enough in her control to try to check at that moment, but something she’d seen had made her react physically. Her skin peeled back and the snaps that ran up the length of her sleeves burst open as her muscles morphed into dark back tendrils. If she’d only grown them from her arms, her dress would’ve survived. The fabric ripped apart as more tendrils sprouted from her back. 
Prue had seen enough. She knew what happened next. Truck managed to get her back to herself, gave her his t-shirt, then took her back to the Haven. She could watch it again in more detail later, when she felt more confident in her control. 
She forced the crack in her mind closed, then focused on the cold of the ice in her palms and mouth. The homey sounds of the Haven reaches her ears again, and she could feel Lou’s hands on her back, their fingers massaging her tense, achy muscles. She opened her eyes. 
The ice cube in her mouth was water and the ice in her hands were almost entirely melted. She poured the cold water and slivers of ice back into the cup Lou had handed her, then wiped her palms on the blanket that covered her lap. 
There was a knock on Lou’s door. Startled, Prue pulled the blanket up to cover her arms and torso and stared at the door. 
“Yeah?” Lou called out.
“I brought food for Prue!” Truck called back. 
Lou pulled their hands away from Prue and said, “You can come in.”
The door cracked as Truck peered in. They pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the room, holding out a spoon and a white ceramic bowl to Prue.
“Here you go, Prue,” he said with a beaming smile. 
Prue still held the blanket over her body, so Lou took the bowl and spoon from him. Prue smiled at him kindly. There was no real feeling behind the smile, but he didn’t need to know that. 
“Thank you, Truck,” she said. She felt her cheeks flush and she added, “and thank you for lending me your shirt. It was very kind of you.”
“No problemo,” Truck said. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” Prue said, smiling with a warmth she didn’t feel. “I appreciate you asking.”
“That’s all, thank you, Truck,” Lou said. Prue knew from the way Truck stood straighter that Lou had hit them with some feel-good brain chemicals. 
As they left, they closed the door behind them, and Prue let the blanket drop back into her lap. Lou handed the bowl of oatmeal and spoon to her, then slowly pushed up the t-shirt again, paying close attention to how Prue reacted. Prue was sure Lou had finished applying the balm while she’d been revisiting the day’s events, but the massage they’d been giving her wasn’t unpleasant, and she didn’t pull away when Lou started again.
When she finished her oatmeal, she leaned away from Lou’s touch, and that was enough of a sign for them to pull away. Prue shifted, turning to face her friend.
“Do you still have the dresses I left here?” Prue asked, though she knew the answer. 
“Of course!” Lou said. “What kind of a friend would I be to get rid of them?” 
They hopped off the bed and pulled open their closet doors. At the far end of the closet, tucked against the wall, three dresses hung from hangers. Prue had left a few dresses at the Haven after the last time she’d transformed and had to wear a pair of pants from Lou and a long sleeve shirt from Sadie. She hadn’t expected Lou to store the dresses in their own closet. It was a kind gesture of friendship and closeness that Prue would not replicate if she were in Lou’s position. 
“Which one do you want?” Lou asked. 
“You can choose,” Prue said. Lou pulled a long-sleeved black dress from the closet and held it out to her. 
“Thank you,” she said, taking the hanger from them. 
Lou flopped down in their desk chair and rotated it so they didn’t face Prue, knowing she would want privacy to get dressed. Prue took her time, not wanting to strain her already aching muscles. She managed to zip up the zipper that ran along her spine, but the dress had a high collar with buttons above the zipper, and she struggled to lift her sore arms and fasten them. 
“Let me help,” Lou said, their voice low and warm and suddenly close. 
Their tone made Prue feel warm. She reminded herself that this is what Lou did; they charmed people. Despite that knowledge, she pulled her hands away from the buttons and let them fasten them for her. 
“There you go,” Lou said, briefly putting their hand on Prue’s shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Lou didn’t step back as Prue turned to face them, and though her base instinct was to put distance between them, she didn’t even sway. She wasn’t used to this kind of proximity, but she was emboldened for reasons she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the post-madness haze, or the moments of physical closeness she’d already had with them today. 
Oh, but they were so close to her. Their shirt was parted open, the top few buttons undone. It was distracting. And attractive. There were very few moments where Prue found herself attracted to anyone, but she’d be lying if she said Lou didn’t have an allure. She looked up at them, meeting their gaze. The warmth in their eyes made Prue feel bold and defiant. Defiant of her usual behavior. She reached out and deliberately, slowly, she readjusted the collar of Lou’s shirt where it had folded out of place. She could feel the heat of Lou’s body radiating off them. Holding their gaze, she flattened her palm against them, below their shoulder.
“Thank you, Lou,” she said. “For everything you did today.”
“It was nothing,” Lou’s voice was quiet and Prue knew they meant what they said. “This is what friends are for.”
They placed their hand on top of Prue’s. Just as Prue had, they held her gaze, then they brought Prue’s hand to their lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. 
This was not something Prue could win. She couldn’t escalate beyond this. Not with someone she actually cared about. Did she care about Lou? Actually care?
Yes, she decided, she did. Despite her best efforts, the small, unhardened part of her that could feel affection did care about them. 
Gently, she pulled her hand away from Lou’s grasp.
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mymoonjin1 · 4 years
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Chris Chibnall ruined Doctor Who
Doctor Who sucks now. I’m sorry for starting this off with such a blatant statement, but we all know it’s true. And this angers me so, so much, because it used to be one of my all-time favorite shows, and now with a female lead it had so much potential, lost in shitty writing. Here we go.
I have to admit, I used to be one of the people against changing the Doctor’s gender. I thought it would be weird, that they were only doing it for PC reasons, etc. I changed my mind since then, but needless to say, I remained disappointed. I think that a female Doctor would have been a refreshing take on the character, it would have shut up people (like me at the time) and it would have made a lot more people take interest in Doctor Who. Jodie’s era could have been amazing, magical and revolutionary. But alas, here we are.
Jodie Whittaker’s first episode was watched by a little over 14 million people if I recall correctly. But why did the show fail in keeping that number? Simple: the writing sucks. Chris Chibnall is not a good showrunner. He took elements he knew of Doctor Who and tried to copy them, without understanding what made them special.
Let’s start with character development. The Doctor. There was a moment in Spyfall when Yaz says: “what would the Doctor do?”, and for the longest moment I thought… “what would this Doctor do?”, which is NOT something I should be thinking this far in Jodie’s run as the Doctor. It’s all been oh’s, wow’s, unnecessary exposition and not a single truly emotional moment, one that makes me feel like I know or relate to this Doctor. I feel like they tried to make a sort of female Eleven without everything that made him special. Jodie said multiple times “yeah, I can play an alien”, and of course, she could have. But the problem it’s not just about playing an alien. The Doctor is an extremely complex character, with extremely complex emotions. Emotions we are yet to see from her. And I am not saying she isn’t a great actress. I absolutely loved her in Broadchurch, a show that was also run by Chibnall. She is capable of showing emotional range. So why hasn’t she? Shitty writing. My guess? Chibnall is scared of criticism saying that this Doctor (a woman) is too emotional, criticism that wouldn’t have existed in previous Doctors' incarnations. Which is bullshit, and also leads me to my next point: the companions.
Having three companions may have sounded good in paper, but the reality is that none of them has had enough screen time to properly develop as characters. My guess? In the eyes of Chibnall (and probably the BBC, I don’t know), a team would lessen the controversy around the new Doctor. But they didn’t bother with them.
If someone asked you to describe Yaz or Ryan’s personality, what would you say? …Exactly. The only one worth watching is Graham, and even he hasn’t had a proper storyline. They tried to show more of their struggles in Can You Hear Me?, but here’s the thing. It is far too late in their arcs for this. At this point, it just felt way too forced. As someone with depression, It would have been great to see more of Yaz’s struggles with it, but just one episode is not nearly enough. Also, she connected with a police officer who we are never going to see again! Don’t you think it would’ve been better to see this development in her relationship with the Doctor? NONE of them have a strong friendship with her. They just say she’s amazing because she takes them places and shit. Not because they actually want to spend time with her. What are Yaz’s reasons to be there? She wanted to be more than just a cop that gave tickets, she wanted to help people, yet she just…left? And she has mentioned being a cop like, once since then. How does this make any sense?
Ryan was supposed to have dyspraxia, which hasn’t been mentioned since the bike thing, I think. It would have been great to see this being an actual part of his character and seeing him coping with it whilst traveling around in space and having dangerous adventures. But nope, they completely forgot about it, as well as his Youtube channel. Also, what are his motivations, his ambitions? Why is he there? In Can You Hear Me? we learn about his friend’s struggles with mental health, but again, shouldn’t it have had more impact coming from Ryan? A character we are supposed to care about at this point?
As for Graham, like I said, he’s the one with a more formed personality. He’s a goofball, he worries about the “kids” of the group, he’s a father figure. Great. But the problem is they presented him as wanting to travel with the Doctor to get over his grief, but they hardly show any of it. And there wasn’t any hint throughout the first season of him having any sort of thirst for revenge, so him wanting to kill Tim Shaw just came out of nowhere. But my biggest problem this season, was when he was opening up with the Doctor about his fear of his cancer returning and she just… said: “I’m sorry, I’m still socially awkward”???? WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL? There’s been plenty of times that we’ve seen this awkwardness. It is ALL we’ve ever seen from this Doctor. This was NOT the time to say this. This could have been a beautiful way for them to connect, to show more of the Doctor’s emotional side, yet what we got was a “suffer in silence bro, I’m so awkward lol”. REALLY? The Doctor has always shown compassion. Even if they don’t understand what their companions are going through, they are always there for them. Why would the writers think this was a good idea? It’s infuriating. 
I’ve been watching a LOT of Youtube videos talking about why Chibnall’s run has been a disaster. I really liked one called “Is the Doctor a hypocrite?”, by B-WHERE. In the video, they essentially say that this Doctor’s moral compass is a mess. In Arachnids in the UK, for example, she somehow thinks locking up all of the spiders and letting the queen die suffocating is more humane than just killing them quickly, which is what the villain does in the end. Ummm? Okay? Listen, the Doctor has always faced difficult moral decisions, even scary ones, like in the Family of Blood two-parter. But as the video says, they’ve never claimed to have moral superiority. And maybe this could have been a more distinctive flaw in the character, a flaw that maybe her companions saw and disagreed with. Like Ten’s wake up call at the end of Waters of Mars. But no. Again, it’s just plain shitty writing.
Ok. Now... The Timeless Children. Jesus Christ. There are so, so many reasons this was the worst thing to ever happen to Doctor Who, but y’all are probably wishing for this rant to be over, so I’ll just mention two.
In over fifty years, we’ve NEVER needed an origin story for The Doctor. The show is called “Doctor Who” for a reason, the question that should never be answered. And they just go and shit all over one of the most beloved sci-fi shows of the twentieth century in a single episode. Again, this is mentioned in several videos, but I thought the same thing right after watching the episode: making the Doctor another “chosen one” goes against everything the show represented. The Doctor was an ordinary alien who was not very good at the Academy, ran away with a stolen TARDIS because he disagreed with the Time Lords way, and couldn’t even control where the TARDIS would go at first. The Doctor is an idiot in a box. The Doctor helps because he wants to; because it’s decent and kind. ANYONE could be like the Doctor. And now, it turns out he’s always been special. The Doctor is the reason why Time Lords regenerate. The character is basically a god now. Why is this a bad thing? This changes EVERYTHING, and yet, it WILL CHANGE NOTHING going forward. Ruth’s Doctor says so herself, it doesn’t change who the Doctor is. Oh, but it does. It changes who the Doctor WAS. None of it matters now, none of their sacrifices, it meant nothing. That’s what makes this so heartbreaking. And I had so much faith in this season. I actually enjoyed a few episodes, like Nicola Tesla’s Night of Terror. I thought they were going down the right path. But Chris Chibnall has ruined my favorite show in just one episode. My only comfort is that there’s still plenty of Classic Who episodes I haven’t watched. Those will be the ones I’ll look forward to. 
(Also, that’s nOT HOW REGENERATION WORKS! IT DOESN’T BRING TIME LORDS BACK TO LIFE! IT HEALS/PREVENTS THEM FROM DYING WHEN THEY’RE IN PHYSICAL DANGER. GOD, CHRIS, WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID!) Okay, rant over, deep breaths. Thanks for reading!
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vydante · 4 years
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Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 9
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)
Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.
But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.
So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?
A/N: Long- 5.29k words. Lmao did y’all miss me? Also, completely in POV of future timeline, so no actual (Name) ‘till next chapter. Granted, next chapter we get to meet someone pretty chill, so there’s that. So... yah. 
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It's safe to say that it's been a complete shit storm on Earth, Carol muses behind her cup of coffee.
Of course, it's not just Earth that's undergoing complete mass hysteria from the reversed blip. Other planets and societies beyond the Terran solar system were facing the after-effects of what had happened, too- and it doesn't help that Earth was so cut off from the intergalactic systems, so nearly everyone else didn't know of what had happened.
So least to say, she was quite busy trying to maneuver her way through the galaxies (with help, of course) to try and spread the word of what had happened.
Regardless though, she'd thought that after weeks and weeks, perhaps maybe the news would've slowed down a little bit. And it seemed to have, just a little bit, but for every time news slows, another wave comes in.
The first wave was about, obviously, the reversed blip. Of course, that one didn't have enough time to slow down as the next wave came around. The death of Tony Stark was announced a week after the fight- just so his family and friends had enough time to mourn in privacy. Then the next one about the sacrifice Natasha Romanoff made- though it was a smaller wave, it was one that still had a huge impact. And for a while, it seemed like that was that- weeks pass, and just barely had the craze around the reverse blip (Lord, there's got to be another name for this, Carol thinks) lessened.
And then (Name) Stark is pronounced dead.
To say the headlines erupted once again in a mad-dog-like frenzy would be an understatement. Hell- Carol would even dare say that it was almost as talked about as his father's death. Of course, it was in part due to, well, (Name) fucking Stark being pronounced dead. A man of his status was bound to capture the headlines with his passing for weeks, just like his old man.
But it was also in part credited to something else: the timing and nature of his death, or lack thereof.
Carol remembers watching the SI press conference a couple of hours ago, just as it finished broadcasting. She was a few light-years away from Earth as she heads back for check-in.
(New message, 3 hours ago: Maria R.
'Hey, I think you might wanna watch this before you come back to Earth. Just broadcasted. It's about (Name) Stark.'
Carol pauses, midway through drying her hair as she's about to put her uniform on. She'd be lying if curiosity wasn't eating at her, so she still clicks on the link Maria had sent her.)
(Name) was... A prominent figure within Earth's society. Being the CEO of Stark Industries (a massive company, so she's been told), a superhero/ Avenger, and the world's 'longest-running most eligible bachelor' (Carol scoffs- why is that one of the main things the public likes to point out so much?) definitely lands you underneath the people's microscope more often than not.
They'd pick at every nitty-gritty detail one by one and shred into it without mercy.
And even in his death, they did the same thing. Unsatisfied, they practically crucified Stark Industries and the Avengers after SI’s press conference. 
She glances around her, the local tavern loud with nothing but one word on their lips: Stark.
'Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he died from like, an inside job or something.'
'Died too young, man. The kid had so much potential to be great... May God rest his soul.'
Carol shakes her head. They weren’t wrong- from what she’s seen working with (Name), he was a hard worker, that’s for sure. Sighing, she left a tip at her table and quietly left.
Hopefully, for Earth, they’ll come to find some peace soon.
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"You okay, punk?”
'No,' Steve fiddles with nail absentmindedly, 'I'm not.'
That's his honest answer to the question. He wants to scream and shout to the world that no, he is not okay whatsoever, but he knows that's one of the many luxuries he'll never get to have anymore- even to the people closest to him. Too much of a burden no one would want to carry.
So, instead, he smiles at Bucky with more teeth than necessary, face straining ever so slightly. 
"Sure thing, Buck'. Are you?"
The brunette offers him a small, sympathetic smile back. It's not the same as Steve had remembered- it used to be confident and relaxed, but nowadays it's always tense and careful. But then again, it wasn't like Steve was the same man either, so he'd be hypocritical to expect the same man from his memories from his old pal.
"I'm managing."
It was always something along the lines of that. Never an okay, never a not okay. Just... managing. Short and simple.
It's scary how much Bucky's reserved presence reminds him of how Steve himself used to be, back when he was wide-eyed and naive to what the world has become without him. He didn't really feel like he was actually there and knowing how separated he and the rest of the world were made him want to close in on himself.
On one hand, he'd never wish that feeling of emptiness on anyone. But on the other hand, he's almost relieved he's not the only one who's felt so completely alone in this world anymore.
Almost.
Steve doesn't say anything as Bucky comes over to where he was in the living room and sits adjacent to him on the couch. For a brief moment, they say nothing as the TV plays the news station. Steve pretends to watch the news, but he can't find the energy to care about what's going on in the news. It's all the same thing nowadays: Blip, Blip, Avengers, Blip, Starks...
Settling down in his seat, he lets his mind drifts off other places instead.
It drifts to a cramped, moldy apartment that was too small and cold for the average person, but just enough for him. 
It drifts to an ugly tower, placed right at the epicenter of one of the most beautiful yet terrifying cities he's ever been in. Charming, and in every way a wonderful representation of the future.
It drifts to the loud yet comforting hum of the inside of the quinjet, sailing ever so smoothly into the night sky after a successful mission. Bruised, but satisfied.
It drifts to a sly redhead with one too many daggers slipped around her person, sitting next to a tired brunette wrapped up in blankets. Deadly, yet delicate. Open, yet intimate.
It drifts to a mystical long-haired blonde and an erratic billionaire, sitting together and joking about as if they hadn't just fought neo-nazis no less than an hour ago. He remembers a rush of fondness glossing over him as he passively observes them.
It drifts to a pair of warm, mirth filled eyes as they listen attentively to Steve ramble on and on about the war as if he had hung the moon. He relishes in the spotlight of their monopolized attention.
It drifts to the nights where life's not as unbearable as it usually is, as he sits across from a usually aggressive young adult quietly chatting about books they've read together: their own secret club. Warm, he reconsiders, comfortable. Content.
It drifts to quiet nights where he tries to focus on the ceiling rather than the erratic beats of his heart, images of his own teammate grinning tiredly at him, lips bruised, split, and inviting. Guilt courses through his veins, but so does heat.
Steve's mind drifts through lots of things before Bucky murmurs into the air nonchalantly.
"It's about Stark, isn't? The son?"
Steve holds back a flinch, praying that Bucky doesn't notice the red crawling up his neck. He wouldn't have been embarrassed if Bucky had meant Tony- of course, Steve misses him dearly- but for Bucky to go straight to you instead is mildly humiliating, to say the least. He can feel Bucky's eyes burning holes into his skull. It'd be no use trying to deny it, so Steve conceded with a reluctant nod.
"That obvious?"
"It's written all over your face."
Steve doesn't offer to say more, so Bucky continues, quieter this time.
"He seemed like a great kid."
Steve huffs with a small amused smile. He thinks back to when you two spent Valentine's Day together- not as a couple, obviously, but you claimed that the two loners on the Avengers team should have each other's backs. He chuckles absentmindedly. You two did nothing but watch movies and critique them all night.
Granted, it was more one-sided as he spent the whole night listening to you go on and on about how objectively, the Hunger Games books were far better than the movies, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It was nice to hear you talk, especially when it's about something so trivial but important to you.
"One of the best," Steve half-heartedly offers. 
"Tell me 'bout him." Bucky isn't looking at the TV anymore as his eyes are trained on Steve's.
Steve shrugs with a sigh.
"What more can I say that hasn't been said already?"
Ever since the SI press conference, countless of people came out to say great things about you, as they did with Tony. Countless of people praised you, especially with your efforts to help society get back on their feet ever since the blip. Even random people gave their one anecdote with you, whether it be a barista that had served you or folks at Morgan's daycare center whenever you picked her up.
Nothing but words of praises and kindness for you.
Bucky hums, understanding what he means. It wasn't like he hadn't looked at the news as of recently, either. For every 10 headlines that are published, chances are 9 of them have at least one mention of a Stark, whether it be the senior or junior.
They sat in silence once more, something Steve noted as a reoccurring theme between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it did make Steve's skin crawl, hoping for the other to say something just once.
"... You were sweet on him, aren't you?"
Though, maybe this was the one time he wished Bucky would've just stayed silent.
It would be horrifying to hear someone accuse him of being in love with his own (ex-) teammate if he hadn't already come to terms with it. Still, it's unnerving to hear someone pinpoint his feelings within a matter of a week or two when it had taken him up until it was too late to figure it out.
"Did it matter?" Steve runs a hand through his hair, almost as if it were a defense mechanism, but he insists it's not, "It's not like he was interested in me, anyways... Not especially after..."
Steve laughs quietly, almost bitterly so. If he thought he had any chance with you before, he sure as hell threw that chance straight in the garbage the moment he locked eyes with you at the airport. And it sure as hell didn't help when he had practically rag-tag teamed up against your own dad.
"Besides... He's a man of the future, Buck. He's so... so bright compared to everyone else. I can't- I don't have much to offer. I'm just- all I'm good for is fighting."
He sighs, and he'll deny it if anyone comments on how resigned it sounded.
"Not to mention, there're other people that he'd be happier with. People that wouldn't- wouldn't hurt him," 'Like you did,' his subconscious bitterly reminds him. And he wasn't wrong- there were other people you could be wonderful with.
You and Queens already had some chemistry, from what Steve's heard in the air. There was never anything substantial, but he'd pass by a few newspapers mentioning you and Spider-Man spotted together more often than not. You two would've been cute, Steve reluctantly admits. He wouldn't even be surprised if you two were dating.
Then there were a few others, too. Surprisingly enough, he saw you and King T'Challa, of all people, together too often in the New York Times, and even Wakanda's own news websites. His Highness' explained it was only ever about the Accords, but Steve wasn't so blind as to not notice how much more genuine T'Challa's smile seemed when you were brought into the conversation.
There was also Thor, too. You stopped talking to the rest of the Avengers save a select few after the initial blip in 2018, so there wasn't any new thing between you and Thor, but Steve reminisces when he'd catch you joking around with Thor and teasing the poor God. If not lovers, you two were most definitely good friends. Steve hates the fact that he's exceptionally happy at the prospect of you and Thor being just friends.
Not to mention the other seemingly boundless amount of people who you'd make a great couple with. Maybe it was just Steve being excessively attentive when it came to you, or maybe it was because everyone's eyes just seemingly happen to gravitate to you, no matter if there's hundreds of people in the room at the same time.
Bucky sighs and mutes the TV. Steve gives him a questioning look, but Bucky only raises an eyebrow back as he looks at him straight on.
"Those just sound like excuses. Never took you for a coward."
Steve bristles.
He'll admit that he's a lot of things. Frustrating, thick-headed, and quick to anger. And knowing other people, they have a whole list to add on to those too, whether it be positive or negative. But one thing he's never been was a coward.
"I'm not- look, I just know a lost fight when I see one, okay? He just- wasn't interested in me, and that's fine. Hell- he's probably not even into men."
Steve's mind lingers back to a picture lying in your old room, back when he used to come visit you just to say goodnight, or to ask you to join him in his morning jog. He never brought up the picture, rationalizing that it was too invasive of a question. You were with a girl- both of you seemed quite young- but it was obvious that you two were more than friends judging by the way you held her and the very obvious hickey on your neck.
His ears burn, and he's not sure if it's with embarrassment or envy.
"But you don't know that, though, do you? You ever asked him any of that? If he was into fellas? If he was into you?'"
Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky's stare, feeling his eyes burn into his skull.
Sure, he never asked you outright anything Bucky had mentioned, that much was obvious. And sure, even entertaining the (pleasant) idea that you were into men, it didn't take a genius to guess that you absolutely loathed Captain America. It was obvious, too. Especially ever since the 'scandal' of you deleting any tweets or photos you had uploaded that Steve was in. 
(Of course, you deleted any photos the Rogue Avengers were in, but that didn't make the stinging hurt any less when Steve had found out.)
Bucky sighs and turns the sound back on. There was a tension in the air between them, but Bucky beat Steve from saying something as he speaks up.
"And the whole thing 'bout you knowing a lost fight when you see one?"
Steve raised an eyebrow. Bucky half-smirks.
"Not the Steve Rogers I know."
He gently punches Steve's shoulder and ruffles his hair, much to Steve's amused annoyance.
"The Steve Rogers I know would've charged headfirst into a battle, even if it was just him against the world. Oh wait- you already tried doing that."
Steve rolls his eyes and playfully shoves Bucky. The amount of razzing he had gotten from Bucky- and others, too, like Sam and Bruce (his heart curls, knowing that Natasha would've been among them as well, telling Steve off for trying to pull a 'bull-headed' move)- was more than enough for Steve to feel bad anymore at this point.
"Shut it." Steve jests.
They fall into a comfortable silence again, though this time Bucky turns back on the TV to a low volume. Steve glances at Bucky, who's got his chin rested absentmindedly on his hand.
"You know... You're taking this awfully well."
Bucky pauses, peering at Steve with a raised eyebrow.
"Taking what?"
"Me bein'," Steve pauses, trying to find the right words before giving up, "Er, into ladies and fellas."
Bucky doesn't say anything for a solid minute, and before Steve was about to start rambling, trying to just get Bucky to say anything, the brunette speaks up, but timidly so.
"It's... not somethin' I ever thought about, y'know? You bein'- bein' into guys, I mean."
He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. He keeps his eyes glued onto the TV with a soft gaze, so distant that Steve wants to know what he's really thinking about.
"We just... Never talked about it. Never... Never gave it a thought. I'd be lying if I said I was 100%, er, up to speed with it."
Bucky pauses mid-sentence. He waves his hands and flickers his attention to Steve for just a split second, almost as if he's nervous about what he's saying.
"Not the bein' gay thing, or whatever. Just... How open people nowadays are with that stuff."
Steve unclenches his jaw, not even realizing it had been clenched this whole time. It wasn't something that Steve had thought would be new to Bucky, and he almost feels dumb for not realizing it sooner. Hell, even when Steve himself had been defrosted, it shocked him that something as gay relationships were accepted now. Not that he was against it- but to see that the world had progressed like that without him made him hurt less whenever he thought too hard about the old times.
"Oh, Buck..."
Steve places an encouraging hand on Bucky's shoulders, and he almost seems to sag into it.
"Back then, you'd practically be crucified if you were caught."
Bucky's eyes are unfocused, lips pressed in a firm line. Steve doesn't say anything since he doesn't even know what to say to that.
Bucky, seemingly haven snapped out of it, smiles; though, it looks more like a grimace in Steve's opinion.
"Just- give me some time, 'kay? I'll come round sooner or later. Just... It's all still a lot, even after years of bein' here..."
'To the 21st century,' the words lingered on his tongue. Steve sure knows how that feels, to be overwhelmed by the new world. It's almost suffocating, knowing how much you've missed out on, and how different everything is now. It's like drowning, really.
Surrounded by so much, too much, and at one point it even feels like Steve's being dragged down further and further away from the surface no matter how much he tries swimming up. There's no one there to save him, either. No one to dive their hand down into the waters, no one to hold onto as they pull him back up to the surface.
It's just Steve, alone, in a bottomless ocean, drowning. And it's constantly filling up and up and up and God all Steve just wants to do is get away from there and be able to breathe.
Steve pats his shoulders, pulling him in for a side-hug as Bucky returns the gesture. He playfully ruffles the blonde's hair, much to Steve's annoyance, and gives him a lopsided smile that makes the tension in Steve's shoulder loosen.
"B'sides, you're still my Stevie. Not like you've sprouted horns and started killin' people."
Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't comment on that. Once again, they fall into a comfortable silence, though Steve's shoulders feel unexplainably lighter than it has in days.
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The sun's almost gone by the time Steve gets home from the group therapy session he was at. It was the same old, same old. Go in, talk about your feelings, and listen to other people afterward. Sure, it helped, and it felt great to empower people to get back up from a great fall, but it just...
It doesn't really fulfill him nowadays.
Hell, he's not sure what can fulfill him now.
Settling in, he notes that Bucky's room is dark; chances are, he's probably out right now. Before, Steve used to be worried about him, but now it's not uncommon for Bucky to be gone every now and then. Steve doesn't really ask where he's going, so long as Bucky doesn't tell him. One day, maybe he'll ask.
Regardless though, Steve rummages around in the fridge to see what he has to work with in terms of dinner. But before he could even take out anything, his phone buzzes with a notification.
Taking out his phone, still halfway into the fridge, Steve glances at the display name.
It's from Rhodes.
Raising an eyebrow, he taps on the notification. It's rare that Rhodey texts, and it's even rarer for him to text Steve of all people. Nowadays, other than any Avenging business, they don't really talk. Granted, Steve also never finds the energy to talk to anyone these days, save a select few and those at the group therapy sessions, but that's beside the point.
So if Rhodey is texting him, it's gotta be important.
And judging by how fast Steve had bolted out the door and onto his motorcycle, it sure as hell was important. 
From: Col. James Rhodes.
To: Capt. Steve Rogers, Dr. Bruce Banner, +3 others.
"Dr. Strange's back. He has new information about (Name), and it's major. He's not staying for long. - James."
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Pepper doesn't want to be here.
There was no going around it- as composed as she was and had to be, she knew she could only take so much before she would snap. And sitting in the compound once again, she wouldn't be surprised if what she was about to hear would be the final straw.
She had plans today, too. She was supposed to take Morgan to go see the neighborhood fireworks festival, and she remembers distinctly looking forward to taking Morgan on the ferry-go-round, too. And yet, here she is, at the compound which once used to be lively, but only whispers of her husband and son echo in the hallways.
She had already been sitting in here for an hour before Steve had finally made it. By then, Bruce and Strange had already explained why they were here.
Just like Tony and Natasha, it seemed like your fate had already been set in stone the moment Stephen had spared the time stone for Tony's life.
But that wasn't what they were called in here for; or at least, in a way that Pepper had initially thought. 
Bruce was talking, and as if he was concluding his monologue, he spares a sympathetic glance at everyone in the room, especially at Pepper. She just wishes he'd stop throwing glances at her as if she was a fine piece of China ready to tip over from the cupboard at any moment now (She knows she almost is, but she'd rather be caught dead than to have an emotional breakdown at a time like this. What was it- Stark men are made of iron?)
"And besides... We've retrieved video recording of what happened that day. From DAHLIA."
The only thing in her vision is red. But she doesn't raise her voice. ('Am I going to have to watch it?' She thinks) She doesn't move from her spot as she stares at Bruce, eyes dilated ('Yes, of course, you want to know what happened,' her subconscious betrays her). Her ears are pounding and she doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry.
"And why did it take you so long to get the recording?"
She watches like a hawk as Bruce and Stephen grimace. They glance at each other with uncertainty, but it's Bruce who bites the bullet and speaks up.
"Because, ah... We didn't think about it...?"
Suddenly, all she wants to do is scream. Lifting a shaking hand to her head as there's now a pounding at her skull, she clenches her eyes shut.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
She opens her eyes and boy, does she hate the way that everyone's avoiding her gaze. Even the ever so elusive Sorceror Supreme (In her head, she knows he's not at fault. In her heart, she wants to spit on his name.) pretends to be busy, but she knows.
She knows.
She sighs, ignoring the tremble of her lips, and dismissively waves her hand at Bruce.
"Just play it. Please."
Bruce silently nods and pulls up a recording. It's dated back to the day of the reversed blip, a quarter past afternoon. 
Pepper crosses her arm, praying that no one sees her hands quake as the recording starts. 
It's dark and decrepit, with a good portion of the screen glitching out. There are charts and tables everywhere, and Pepper now recognizes them as his health stats. The walls all blur together as she tries to bite back the tears.
There's rubble everywhere. In the distance are lights from fires, but you're so far down there's barely any light at all. Your face isn't in view, and rather what she sees makes her heartache even worse than before.
A gleam of metal jutting out of your stomach is front and center of the camera. It's huge- about the width of her thigh- and it's stained red. Your breathing is labored and short, obvious signs of a panic attack as the sounds of you gasping echo in the room. No one says a thing as an Australian voice speaks up in a frantic.
"Doll! Doll, I need you to breathe! You're going into shock!"
There's no response from you as you continue to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Steve's jaw clench and Bruce covering his mouth. She doesn't react to Rhodey's hand squeezing her shoulder as they all watch on.
There's a weird sound coming out of you. Pepper's heart clenches, and at this point, she doesn't even care that she's crying now- because she knows what that sound is.
That's the sound of you hiccuping.
You're crying.
You- one of the strongest men she knows, an Avenger, a hero, her baby- are crying, alone, and she was none the wiser to your suffering.
You're moving- oh God, your arm- and the video feed pick up scuttering and growling. Her stomach drops even further. Chitauri. 
Your other arm grasps all over your lower body, barely gliding past your wounds (oh God, please tell her that's not a steel beam) and into your pockets. There's an orange tint, barely there, but in your hands as DAHLIA speaks up again.
"Don't move! You've been impaled by a steel beam and your prosthetic arm has been dislocated- any more movement will result in an increased blood loss! I am attempting to contact Mister-"
There's the sound of glass shattering before the video camera shuts off. The charts suddenly spike unnaturally, going practically haywire as the only thing left coming from the screen is the sound of DAHLIA's voice glitching. 
"-er-er-er!"
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It was a horrific way to go if Stephen's being honest.
Of course, as both a doctor and Sorcerer Supreme, he's seen- and even experienced- his fair share of gruesome injuries and deaths. It was par the course, so it wasn't enough to make him want to empty his guts.
But he'd be lying if he said that he didn't at least feel his stomach curl in when he had to witness your 'death' the first few times. 
Seeing you crushed under debris, your prosthetic arm hanging by a few strings, and literally impaled by a steel beam wasn't a pleasant sight whatsoever. Add on watching your scared form hyperventilating and hearing your A.I. trying to calm you down with heartbreakingly real panic in her voice, and it was downright unbearable.
And that was the best of it: there were ones where the steel beam had sliced through your skull or where you had been straight up mauled by the Chitauri as you didn't have your suit on hand, for whatever reason. There were other scenarios where the chitauri had mobbed-up your decapitated head, and Thanos had presented it to the older Stark, just as he was about to grab the stones. That one move proved fatal for everyone, as even Stark had lost his composure at the sight of his dead son.
As much as Stephen doesn't want to say it, he knew that what had actually happened to you was the best possible route that had been chosen for you.
The video ends, and the Captain leans away from the wall he was positioned on. 
"What the hell happened? One moment- he was trapped under rubble, the next, nothing? Suddenly we lose all contact with him? What- did he just- pop out of existence?"
He's frustrated, angry. Stephen would be lying if he didn't feel an inkling of the same emotions as him. Stephen runs a shaky hand through his hair.
"You're not entirely wrong, Captain. What happened to him was similar to that of St- Tony," He corrects himself prematurely, "and Romanoff."
"You telling me he was meant to- to die too? Like Tony and Natasha?"
Stephen shakes his head, ignoring the seething anger in the captain's voice. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Rhodes wrap his arms around Pepper, who's sat still in her chair, staring blankly at Stephen. It's almost as if she's seeing past him for a split second as if she's looking at someone else behind him.
There's only a wall next to him. He ignores her, skin prickling at her unwavering attention, yet eery silence.
"It's a means to an end. I can't pick their fates, Captain. That's not how my powers work."
'Though, it would've been better for the sake of everyone had it did work that way.' Stephen bitterly remarks.
"Besides that, I never said he's dead, Captain. Or, shouldn't be, anyway." Stephen carefully avoided answering if it was a necessity that you were to go.
Stephen internally sighs, knowing immediately that wasn't the right thing to say judging by the 'oh God' Pepper just muttered.
Rhodes speaks up with a clenched jaw. He had been silent this whole time, but Stephen wasn't foolish enough to not recognize how even he had been bothered by the film. Whether it was because of the gore, emotional connection, or both, Stephen doesn't care enough to ask.
"Then what exactly are you saying?"
Stephen, once again, ignores how confrontational his tone is. He doesn't blame Rhodes for his frustrations; being a doctor, it's inevitable that he'd come and get used to people like this.
'They're mourning,' he hears imaginary Christine chiding him.
Stephen sighs. He's not even sure how to break it all to them, as even he's not too sure of what has become of you after the film. But regardless, Stephen reels himself back in and composes himself.
He pulls back the need to add any fluff words and says what he's been inching to say ever since he had attended Tony's funeral.
"Stark's traveled back in time; the only problem is, is that we don't know when and where."
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Masterlist
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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit
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itsclydebitches · 4 years
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i don't think that passive semblances are necessarily always active--at least wrt qrow's and clover's semblances, i've always assumed they just activated spontaneously. so it'd be like if ruby just randomly burst into petals and zoomed every once in a while, not that their semblances are constantly active. otherwise qrow wouldn't be able to take a step without something breaking or otherwise going wrong. so i don't think they necessarily drain much aura--just activate at random moments.
Which I think is a great explanation if the show actually established that. From what I can gather, what we actually know about Qrow’s semblance is: 
He has no control over when his semblance does or does not activate
He has no control over who it impacts (whether it’s bad luck for him or bad luck for others, aka good luck for him)
There’s a range around him where others can be impacted (“Don’t come any closer!”) 
Potentially his semblance is more likely to activate once someone gets within that range (Ruby is nearly hit as soon as she gets re-involved in the Tyrian fight) 
Potentially his semblance remains active even while a good luck semblance is also active nearby (Qrow tripping and Clover easily catching him) 
As said, random activation is a good way to deal with the aura issue, but the show hasn’t actually explained that. It also, by extension, hasn’t established why Qrow thinks that occasional randomness is worth the distance he creates between himself and others. When he travels with the group to Haven and Argus his semblance is, to be frank, pretty much a non-issue. Yeah, Ruby almost got hit, but would a beam have even hurt her with her own aura? I doubt it. Maybe if Tyrian did enough damage in his first attack, but given what these characters can survive that moment never struck me as particularly dangerous. Then Qrow breaks a table. A tire blows out. None of these random activations (that I remember anyway) are particularly terrible. Qrow’s view of his semblance makes more sense if he was experiencing varying degrees of bad luck all the time, rather than random little blips that, really, don’t have much of an impact on his life based on what we’ve seen. 
What I’m getting at in a round-about way is that the issue isn’t so much “Qrow’s semblance makes no sense” because, as you say, we can provide an explanation. Rather, the issue is how that explanation lines up with the rest of the story. Qrow made the decision not to travel with Ruby because of his semblance. He nearly didn’t reach her in time to prevent Tyrian’s poison because of that distance, because of his semblance. This implicitly tells us that his semblance is really, really bad... but it’s not? If you have a character making huge decisions like keeping distance between himself and his family for years, or not joining a party when this group clearly needs help out in the wild, then that motivation - and the consequences attached to it - needs to carry over into later scenes. When Qrow is forced to travel with the group we need to see why he was so hell bent on avoiding this situation, but all we actually see is some pretty simple bad luck that could have happened to anyone, semblance or no semblance. All of which comes back to the need to firmly establish how Qrow’s semblance works and what is the impact of that. If it happens randomly how did he figure out there’s a range? How did anyone realize it was his semblance at all and not just normal bad luck? Can Qrow feel his aura draining a bit each time it happens? Could he potentially take a hit on his aura at an incredibly inopportune time? Even if it’s random, if it’s supposedly activating enough to negatively impact others around him to the point where Qrow creates that distance, then surely he’s taking aura hits multiple times a day. Does that still mean he potentially can’t rely on aura like another huntsmen would? 
There are a lot of implications and questions attached to giving one (now two with Clover) characters a semblance that’s staggeringly different from what anyone else has. Obviously I’m nitpicking with some of the stuff above, but the takeaway is that RWBY barely explains any of it. We don’t even have characters asking, “Hey, Uncle Qrow, why in the world is your semblance Like That?” These characters should be intrigued by these differences given that such differences make up their job, their personal life, and are attached to their family. Just like they should be asking about magical silver eye powers or the existence of gods. Each thing you introduce impacts how the viewer reads the next bit of info. If we go, “They wouldn’t ask about Qrow’s semblance because all semblances are super weird. Weird is normal here!” then by extension we have to ask, “If weird is normal how can you justify the group’s horror at the bird transformation?” Having a conversation about Qrow’s semblance, even one where he admits he doesn’t understand it entirely himself, would go a long way towards a) making the characters seem less stupid, b) reassuring the viewer that RT has a handle on their own world building, c) lessens the work the viewer has to do to get things to make sense (aka long anon conversations trying to explain how Qrow’s semblance might logically function) and d) firmly sets up the sort of expectations we should have going forward. No more confusion along the lines of, “Why was Qrow’s semblance so horrible it drove him away but now that we get to see it in action it’s like... breaking things every two to three days. I break things at least once a week. Never needed a semblance to achieve that...” 
For me, Qrow’s semblance and the lack of canonical thought put into it represents far larger issues regarding RWBY’s tendency to introduce “cool” concepts that the writers then include or ignore at a whim. If you include a character with a bad luck semblance that has been presented as Very Bad for the last three volumes, then his presence in the group should be a major factor that drives the plot moving forward. Stuff like, “Well, since Qrow is with them 24/7 now and he was adamant that no one get near him during a battle, we should see the group experiencing at least some bad luck (that’s clearly tied to him) during the Cordovin fight. His presences needs to impact their chances at winning." Not “Well, we don’t want to deal with Qrow making the fight harder so we’ll just conveniently turn off his semblance for a while.” Creating rules and explaining them in the story helps the writers adhere to them. They’re accountable now and the story benefits, far more than it does from our current situation of, “Qrow’s semblance is really bad, pretty whatever, on, off, interacting with Clover’s, not interacting with Clover’s, maybe caused that unfortunate thing in that particular scene but you don’t actually know - all depending on what result the writers want at any given moment.” 
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dancing-lawn · 4 years
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A Letter to the Creators of the Netflix Adaptation of Narnia
As some of you may already know, Netflix will be adapting the Chronicles of Narnia. Now, I don’t want to get my hopes up too much. The Magician’s Nephew was meant to be adapted not long after Voyage of the Dawn Treader came out, and that was scrapped in favor of Silver Chair, which is a dead project too. But, if the stars do happen to align and Netflix manages to adapt the series, I will be a loyal fan and supporter of the creators of the TV/film franchise. 
Everyone has their own opinions on how the Narnia series should be adapted. Some believe that the religious tones should be enhanced, while others believe they should be lessened. Some want the series to be more gritty and serious, while others want it to be light and child-friendly. Some want to see accurate representation and an expansion of the Narnia universe (what are the other countries like? who is to say that all of Narnia is white, straight, and cis?) while others want it to be an exact adaptation. All of the concerns about Netflix adaptations are valid, especially given the importance of the Narnia series for many children around world as well as the undoubtedly religious aspect of hte series. Taking too many liberties may alienate the Christian community, whilet taking too few will ostracize fans who wish to see the books adapted to fit 21st century political, social, and cultural sensibilities. 
I have my own opinions and hopes for the series: mainly, that I would love to be offered a richer picture of the Narnian universe, from what Calormen and Archenland are like, the political and social climate of the Golden Age, to the early reign of Frank and Helen. I think if done right, delving into these aspects will show a new side to Narnia, when it has been seen by most mainstream media as simply a Christian allegory while other fantasy series and given broader platforms and deeper analyses by the average consumer. 
But, what I hope above all else that the Netflix production of Narnia captures is the spirit of the series. I believe for many kids who first read the novels, the religious tones go unnoticed. For many, Narnia is arguably the first example of escapism fiction, where children have authority and power, when they usually go ignored and silenced by adults. 
Indeed, for C.S. Lewis himself, Narnia was not intended to be first nad foremost a Christian novel. He has said multiple times that he didn’t envision Narnia as allegory, and that he developed the plot and fantasy before he realized the similarities to Christian themes. He created Narnia from a dream of a lamppost and a faun in a red scarf, and it was that dream that carried him through seven books, that saw the birth and death of a world. 
Instead, Narnia is an amalgamation of several cultures and themes. He incorporated Celtic fairytales alongside Judeo-Christian themes, as well as Greek mythology and astronomy. C.S. Lewis was a scholar before he was a Christian (he was a strong atheist before meeting J.R.R. Tolkien who convinced him to rejoin the Church) and it is his scientific reasoning that informs much of the series. As a result, to write off the Narnia series as “just” a Christian book, thinly veiled as fantasy, would be false on multiple counts, and I hope the Netflix producers see the series as more than that.
For me, Narnia is not about Christianity or even religion. Instead, Narnia is about rediscovering magic and joy, when all seems hopeless and you have no power or control over your own life. The Pevensie children are sent off to live in the countryside with a stranger after the Blitz, passive actions of their political reality. Still, when they enter Narnia, they encounter the White Witch, who seeks total control over the world. In the world that the Pevensies are brought up in, age equals authority and power; even the older siblings try to control Lucy, and much of the early sibling interaction between Edmund anad Lucy has to do with him seeking authority over his younger sister. The other books, too, show this conflict between children and authority figures: Diggory versus Uncle Andrew, Shasta versus his adoptive father figure, Prince Caspian versus Miraz, Eustace and Jill versus the stifling intellectual environment of their school and families.
What Narnia offers each protagonist is the opportunity to discover their own power and give them the opportunity to control their own narratives. Each character is active in his or her own story, rather than reacting to circumstances beyond their control. Certainly, they have guidance. But, Aslan’s help is rare, and often, the children save themselves. They make mistakes, but they also atone for them and move forward. Narnia shows children that they do have power, even if those around them don’t recognize or appreciate it. 
At the same time, the series condemns authority figures and adults for forgetting their inner child. The books are not saying that adulthood is bad (Frank and Helen are positive adult figures, as are Diggory and Polly in later books) but rather, many adults lose the joy, courage, and creativity they once had as children, becoming cynical, shallow, and cruel as a result. Uncle Diggory’s obsession with appearances is mocked, when the Talking Animals mistake him for a tree; Miraz is defeated by his superstitions. The “problem of Susan,” often cited as sexism on Lewis’s part, is another example of this theme: that true maturity means accepting and celebrating the wisdom of childhood. 
What a successful Narnia adaptation should do, then, is not preach Christianity or present a meaningless adventure, just for the sake of showing off advanced CGI, but tell us that even in times of darkness, you can still hold onto hope, you can still atone for your mistakes, and you can still have agency over your own destiny. The people around you may belittle and disrespect you, but that doesn’t take away your power unless you succumb to it. 
It is hard to keep fighting, to keep having that hope when everyone around you has given up. But what the Narnia series shows us is that we can change the world and we do have an impact. That spirit - of courage, of dedication, of hope - is what I hope that Netflix manages to bring to the screen, above plot minutiae, cool CGI, and Christian allegory. 
Narnia was never about playing it safe, finding a home, or having blind faith in a god. Instead, Narnia is about the struggle of finding yourself and believing in something against all odds, and that maintaining hope is not futile or useless but worthwhile and powerful. To Netflix, to Matthew Aldrich, to the incredible cast and crew that will be starting soon on adapting the book series that changed my life, I am excited to see you take on this challenge and show to the world the greatness of the Pevensies, Aslan, and Narnia. Good luck and courage, dear hearts!
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wellhellotragic · 5 years
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A Poor Man’s Mantra (2/2)
Summary: Killian’s life just isn’t going to plan. A bad breakup and a demotion might actually be the least of his problems when he realizes that he’s falling in love with his brother’s new girlfriend.
A/N: Here’s the conclusion of my submission to @csseptembersunshine. I’m not sure how you guys are going to feel about this one. Yes, it has a happy ending for CS, but there’s a twist that no one has guessed and I’m nervous about your reactions to it….
P.S. At the behest of @let-it-raines I should tell you all that no one dies and it’s not an angsty twist.
Also on Ao3 if that’s more what floats your boat...
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He wasn’t quite sure which was worse, being awoken by a violent shaking, or the nausea that came with it. Of course, the searing headache may have left more of an impression had his brother not been leaning over him in a strange place yelling his name.
“Killian! What in the seven bloody seas are you doing here in my apartment passed out?”
He tried to respond, barely getting his brother’s name out of his parched mouth.
“Oh bollocks. And you’re drunk off your arse.”
“Li-”
“Save it, I can smell the rum wafting from your pores.”
He tried to respond, but no words came out of him. He had no rebuttal. He was there, unannounced, drunk in a strange city still wearing the clothes from the day before. Liam had every right to yell. And he was well prepared to take all that Liam had to give when he heard an angelic voice speak up in his honor.
“That’s actually my fault. He and I have been planning this visit for months as a surprise for your birthday, and when he got here he was so jetlagged that he just wanted to go straight to sleep but the hotel lost his reservation and I told him he could just stay here on the couch. And he’d already had such a long trip that I insisted he have a glass of rum with me to help him sleep.”
He managed to tilt his head to take her in, her messy bun, the way the straps of her top barely covered her arms, her pink lips.
And then it all came rushing back. The bar, the multiple glasses of rum. The kiss. He felt his face heat as the thought of it, the sheer embarrassment of knowing that he’d forced himself upon a woman. Upon his brother’s live-in girlfriend.
Liam arched an eyebrow at him, looking for some form of agreement, and like the coward he was he nodded yes, hiding behind the excuse Emma gave him. Liam seemed pleased enough as he apologized for waking Killian up in such a way, causing guilt to further settle into every part of his being.
They talked for a while, Emma excusing herself to go to bed at some point. The brothers talked about everything, Liam’s job, his mysterious girlfriend, his birthday plans for later in the week. They talked about Killian’s latest missions, they caught up on crewmen that Liam hadn’t seen in years. They talked about everything, everything except for Killian. He still couldn’t find a way to tell his brother of all of his failures.
He wasn’t a fool. He knew that eventually the truth would come out and it would be best coming from him, but he was tired, and Liam just looked so content that he couldn’t do it.
They made it a week without it ever coming up, and Killian was thankful. Liam’s birthday came and went with tons of fanfare. All of his friends came over to the apartment to wish him well and to drink his beer. Even Belle sent him a small gift through a proxy, an olive branch of sorts. Liam seemed to feel like it was her version of closure.
Killian also met some of Liam’s closer friends. Guys that had invested in the bar with him originally, before it became profitable enough that he was able to pay back their loans. Liam’s flaxen beauty never showed, not properly at least. Emma was there, in jeans and a sweater. He’d bit his tongue on more than one occasion as he watched them hug and flirt. When he asked his brother about officially meeting his girlfriend, Liam got a bit dodgy, telling Killian that she couldn’t be there. That she had an out of town work commitment.
It only further cemented things in his mind, although he still couldn’t figure out why Liam was so reluctant to admit that he was dating Emma. In the week that Killian had been in Boston, they’d gotten along smashingly enough. And it’s not as if Killian judged his brother in someway from moving on from Belle. Sometimes relationships just weren’t meant to be. He and Milah being a prime example.
Although in the year since they’d split, the pain of losing her had lessened significantly. It was the embarrassment of it all that lingered. The impact that those events had on his life, they way one night had completely derailed his life plans.
Over that last week, Emma for her part never brought up the kiss, and Killian had done his best to avoid her when his brother wasn’t there. He wasn’t an animal. Controlling himself in a sober state wouldn’t be an issue, but he did have a difficult time looking at her without flushing bright red. Instead he used his brother as a buffer of sorts.
The following day after Liam’s party, Killian nearly had a panic attack. The weight of his situation finally crushing him. He had savings, but he’d left before he could claim a pension. With no job, no income, and no life plans, it was finally time for him to come clean to Liam.
Of course, he gave his brother the redacted version. Milah never coming up in conversation. Liam knew the rumors surrounding Gold, so it wasn’t hard to explain why Killian had punched him. Although Liam was rightfully angry at Killian for losing his temper, at least he’d spared himself from having to explain the entire story.
Emma did her best to keep Liam calm, rubbing her hand up and down his arm as she spoke to him in the kitchen. Even with hushed whispers, Killian could see the effect she had on his brother. The intimacy that they shared, and if he wasn’t so full of guilt and self loathing over everything else, it would have probably killed him.
Once Liam’s initial rage had subsided, he sat Killian down and asked about his plans for the future. Killian admitted he had none. The furthest out that he’d thought the situation thought was just getting to Boston. Liam went into a whirlwind after that, having Killian fill out an official application to work at the bar.
He tried to resist, being a bartender wasn’t his ideal career path, but Liam was insistent, wanting to keep an eye on him like he was some sort of brute that needed a minder. Liam also wrote up a list of people that were hunting for roommates and made appointments on Killian’s behalf to see each one.
He understood his brother’s reasoning, but the entire thing was insulting. Yes, he’d made some rash decisions in his past that had led him there, but he was still a perfectly capable adult, but for some reason Liam was set on treating him as a child.
The rest of the night was much of the same. Liam planning out the next six months of Killian’s life with Killian having zero input. When it was all over, Liam went to bed and Emma simply gave Killian a small smile, telling him that everything would work out. To just give Liam some time to process it. She even placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. It took everything he had not to just sink into her, hoping for her comfort.
The following week was spent viewing apartments and getting acclimated to the bar. He did inventory, learned how to change kegs, and even a little about how to cook in the kitchen. It was exhausting, and each night when he arrived back at Liam’s at four in the morning after cleaning up crushed peanuts and spilled beer, he barely had enough energy to unfold the blanket on the couch before falling into a deep sleep. He was working more hours than any of the other bartenders and he was fairly certain that it was Liam’s way of filling up every spare minute he had.
Another day, another dollar.
The apartment hunting had been horrible. On one particularly slow night at the bar, Liam and Emma stopped in to grab a drink and ask how he’d like the paces he’d seen. When he told them about the first guy, one of the smaller microbrewers Liam purchased from, they refused to believe him when he told them about the sheer volume of collectables everywhere.
The entire living room was filled with hats. Hundreds of hats, all in different styles and colors. They covered every inch of the wall. There were special hat stands on the tables, and Jefferson had told him one of the ground rules was no beverages outside of the kitchen because he didn’t want his collection harmed. And to make matters worse, the entire dining room had been set up for a tea party, that no one ever had. It was all decorative, and unusable. And when Killian picked up one of the small cake plates to look at the pattern, the man flew into a rage and kicked him out.
The second guy, a second year resident had detailed diagrams of the female anatomy hung up all around the apartment. When Killian asked about it, Victor got a gleam in his eye. The whole thing left Killian feeling dirty and he had the impression that Victor’s decision to go into gynecology was not because he cared about women’s health, but because he was just the worlds biggest sleaze.
The last interview had been that morning, and the most normal by far, aside from the inhabitants generally cleanliness, or lack thereof. It was something he could handle though. Although, the idea of living with a woman was slightly foreign to him. He’d spent years living in tight confines with nothing but men. He’d stayed in Liam’s apartment for two weeks with Emma, but Liam was always there. Never just the two of them.
“So, roomie, did you tell ‘em yet?”
Killian felt his face warm as shock set in on Liam and Emma’s faces.
“I was just about to- roomie.”
Liam looked pleased as pie, but Emma nearly choked on the ice in her drink. Killian might have wondered if her reaction meant something, but he was too focused on the way Liam’s hand rubbed circles on her back, soothing her from her coughing fit.
The four of them spoke for a few more minutes, settling on a move-in date, before a group of women came in and Killian moved to the other side of the bar to attend to them. When he came back, Ruby told him that Liam and Emma had to leave and wanted her to tell him congratulations.
When he got home that night they were both asleep, and when he woke the next morning, they’d both left for work already. He moved out later that morning, still only lugging around a small rolling suitcase and his shoulder bag. Liam had gifted him a few new shirts, but everything he owned still fit in just those two bags.
Ruby’s apartment was near the bar, another plus, but one of the only few upsides to living with her. He’d come to find over the month that he’d been living there that Ruby’s sexual appetite was insatiable. Even on the nights that she worked, she still somehow managed to find a bar straggler to bring home. There were mornings where he’d walk in on a man in the kitchen, wearing nothing more than god gave him. Some mornings it was a strange woman in slinky lingerie. Ruby apparently didn’t discriminate when it came to the human body.
And he was always tired. He never gave thought to the type of insulation in the walls when he was searching for an apartment, but a month later, he learned just how important it was, as he learned the hard way how loud his roommate’s cries of passion could be. It kept him up at night.
The only other perk to living there, was that he’d managed to recapture some form of friendship with Emma. He’d thought about her often enough in those first few weeks. About the smell of her perfume, even after she’d been at work all day. About the way her face glowed when she first woke up, make-up free. About the way her chest heaved out as she stretched before her morning runs. Of course that last thought was an unfortunate side effect of hearing Ruby’s “Oh god” screams.
As the month went on, his thoughts became more lurid. He’d think of her as he carressed himself to sleep at night. Imagining that it was her making those noises. It was still an awful idea, she was dating his brother, but somehow, living in a different building had allowed his brain to rationalize it.
But around the second week, just as Killian was spent and near sleep, he heard his phone go off. He’d ignored it at first, opting to dream of Emma rather than hear someone from the bar beg him to pick up their shift. But when it went off two more times though, he begrudgingly grabbed the phone from under his pillow, ready to tell off whoever was text him, until he saw her name.
Hope everything is going well.
We should all get dinner one night when you have some free time.
This is Emma by the way.
He texted her back right away, thanking her for checking on him. They texted for a few more minutes before she had to get back to whatever case she was up late working on.
They texted again the next night, and the one after that. Eventually they started texting during the day time as well, sending each other memes and gifs. Making fun of Liam. He’d sent her a picture of Liam covered in beer one night as a keg exploded on him.
At one point, they’d both been a little drunk after a night out with Liam and some other coworkers during their annual christmas party. Liam had gone to bed already and Emma swore she was too wired to go to sleep. Their texts started off innocent enough, but with an ill placed line of innuendo, it took a turn, and suddenly things heated up. Even with the rum coursing through his blood, slowing his responses, he still knew what they were doing was wrong. That he shouldn’t have joked about wanting a picture of her, and that she never should have reciprocated, asking for one of him after his shower.
And he knew that sending her one of him, with a towel around his hips and water beads still falling down his chest was a bad idea. Even as his thumb hit send. But in that moment, it wasn’t only the rum that had him intoxicated.
When the morning came, guilt weaved its way into every fiber of his being. He’d essentially sexted his brother’s girlfriend. He was gutter trash in the worst of ways, but that morning, she’d texted him again as if nothing had ever happened. Part of him felt horrible for his brother, that he was with a woman that placed such little value on loyalty and monogamy. But the other part of him was elated and he couldn’t decide which part to let win out.
They continued on that way for weeks, months even. Their relationship never escalated the way it had that one night, but they still became closer in a way. He learned that the yellow bug she drove was stolen, a youthful indiscretion that she eventually made right. He learned that her favorite cupcake flavor was vanilla, but she preferred rocky road ice cream from a little place near the station. He told her about Milah, making her promise not to tell Liam. He told her about why he really hit Gold, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. He told her about the demotion and humiliation. She didn’t judge him or scold him the way he’d expected. She just listened and let him open up in his own time.
Everyday they texted he fell more and more in love with her. And everything was great, until it wasn’t. Until one night Ruby came home crying after learning that he boyfriend of two months had been cheating on her the entire time. After listening to her talk about the pain she was in, the humiliation she felt, the betrayal. It was all too much, hitting too close to home.
He and Emma may not have ever revisited the pictures, they’d never spoken about that kiss his first night in Boston, and they’d never done anything physical, but they’d had an affair in a way. An emotional one, and the idea of hurting Liam the way Ruby had been hurt was just too much.
When Emma texted him that night, he ignored her. When she texted the next morning he did the same, and later that night he finally just blocked her number. It was painful, and killed him to do so, but he needed to end it before anyone got hurt. Before he fell so hard in love with her that he’d never be able to dig his way back out of the hole.
They didn’t speak for four months. Emma stopped coming around the bar with Liam on his off days. Liam still talked about her so Killian knew they were still together. He missed her, but it was for the best. Instead, he tried to get on with his life.
He tried dating, but only the once. The whole experience was just so awful, and not that he’d been a fan of vegan food before, but after listening to Tink drone on about how much better of a person she was for eating it, he came to loathe the stuff. And the pixie herself.
After that, he just gave up on the whole idea of dating. He gave up on women in general, even choosing to toss out a letter from Milah without ever bothering to open it. Instead, he threw himself into work. Bartending wasn’t his dream job still, but it was all he had.
Another day, another dollar.
But as life went on, the loneliness set in. He watched as Ruby met someone new, a woman that genuinely seemed to love and cherish her. He watched as Ruby spent fewer and fewer nights at home in favor of Dorthy’s place. He watched as the fridge became more of a beverage cart than a food cooler.
He watched as Liam took him ring shopping for his still not-so-mysterious girlfriend. He watched as Liam found the ring. He watched as Liam picked the date and made a dinner reservation. He watched as his life fell apart again.
And because life always had a way of kicking him when he was at his lowest, he was also forced to watch, on the night Liam had planned to propose, as Emma stood on the corner of a seedy street in downtown Boston, dressed in a mini skirt that barely covered her hind-end, as she leaned forward caressing the face of a man that was decidedly not Liam.
His initial reaction was not to believe it, to tell himself that he was wrong. To remind himself that she wasn’t the only blonde in the world. But as he walked closer, and her face came into perfect focus, he couldn’t deny it. It was her.
In retrospect, he should have just left. She wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d made sure of that months before. But something in him snapped and he walked towards her, screaming her name in obvious rage.
“Shit.” He barely heard it, dulled by the street noise around them, but she knew that she’d been caught.
Before he knew it, she was on him, whispering for him to stay quiet and follow her, letting her drag him into a car against his better judgement. As soon as the car door closed, she turned on him, just as he was ready to lay into her, but she put her hand up, silencing him instead.
“No, Graham, stop and listen.” He watched, vexxed as she nodded to herself. “I promise, he’s not a john. He’s just a friend and I didn’t want him to blow my cover. Ya, ya, I know. I’ll be right there.”
Something in her eyes softened as she continued.
“Killian I know you have questions, but right now I need you to just go home. I’ll explain everything later, okay? Just- go home.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond before hopping out of the car, pulling her skirt down a little. He was completely confused, and in his is fog, did exactly as she asked. He didn’t even bother picking up the thai food he’d ordered, the whole reason he’d even been walking on that block. Instead, he turned around and went right back up to his fourth story walk up, back to an empty apartment.
As he waited, he thought of Liam, wondering if she’d even bother to show at the restaurant, or if she’d just turned him down instead. His brother would be crushed either way.
He also wondered if she’d been with other men during their late night texting sessions. Had she been waiting until she was sure they were asleep before she left, just using him to kill time?
Had she ever even cared about either of them?
The longer he waited, the more his thoughts raced, and the angrier he got. By the time he heard a knock on the door, he was in a full rage, letting her have the full force of his wrath. He called her a whore among other things, but no matter what he said, what horrible insult he threw at her, she stood her ground, never wavering.
“Are you done?”
He was panting by the time he’d said everything he wanted. He could only nod.
“I’m going to say this very calmly and I’d like for you to listen until the end and not interrupt me.” He nodded again and she continued. “I don’t know what Liam’s told you about my past, but I had a crappy childhood, and I was on my own for most of it. I made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve paid for them. I also made a lot of bad decisions when it came to men, most recently in the form of a man named Walsh, who unbeknownst to me, was dealing in stolen imports.”
Emma walked around the room, not speaking for a moment. He could see her eyes becoming more glossy, but no tears fell. Eventually she settled on the couch and motioned for him to join her.
“I tried to explain to my chief that I didn’t know about it, but it wasn’t enough. In his mind, I either knew and was helping to cover for Walsh, or I really didn’t know and that made me a shit detective. So he fired me. That’s why I came to Boston. I needed a fresh start, but when I got here, the only open position was in vice. It’s humiliating playing a prostitute night after night, dressing in these skimpy clothes, but it is what it is.”
He was stunned. In all of the scenarios he’d played through his head since he’d left her on that street corner, vice cop had never once crossed his mind.
“So those guys from tonight?”
“The newest residents of the Boston city jail.”
“And Liam is okay with this?”
“Honestly, not really. But oddly enough he was the one that told me to stick with it. That I have to bide my time and prove myself, and hopefully when another position opens up for a detective in another unit, I’ll be able to transfer.. What is it he always says? ‘Another day, another dollar’ or something like that.”
Everything she said made sense, but it still didn’t explain why even now she wasn’t wearing Liam’s ring. When he asked her about it, about them , she said that it would be easier to just show him than to explain everything. The two of them sat in silence as she drove them to a brownstone in a more affluent neighborhood than either of them could afford. She effortlessly paralleled parked in front of one of the stoops, killed the engine before getting out, waiting for him to join her on the stairs before knocking.
It was late, too late, and when the porch light turned on, Killian was sure the homeowner was probably going to shoot them both for waking them up in the middle of the night. But that didn’t happen. Instead, a blonde woman in a robe answered the door, calling to Emma in concern.”
“Emma, is everything alright?”
She fussed over Emma as she pulled her inside, Killian following closely behind them.
“I’m fine, really. Killian just needed to talk to his brother, and I thought it was time that he finally met the woman that was going to be his new sister.”
Killian was stunned for the second time that night, but as he looked at her, he couldn’t help but realize she was just as Liam had described in his early emails. Pale skin, flaxen hair. Blue eyes. And it was evident that she was a kind soul.
“Ingrid, love, what’s going on?”
The shock on Liam’s face as he saw Killian standing there in their in the entryway was obvious. Emma and Ingrid excused themselves to let the brother’s talk. As it turned out, Ingrid had been one of Emma’s foster mothers when Emma was a teenager. Emma ended up running away, one of the poor decisions she’d mentioned earlier, but Emma thought of her often and once she got to Boston, she looked her up and reforged their relationship. Eventually Emma introduced her to Liam and he was struck by her beauty, even if she was slightly older. They had a lot in common, and while Liam was still on the fence about children, Ingrid assured him that she’d already been through that part of her life and would be fine with whatever he decided. They could live their lives out, just the two of them, or they could adopt if he changed his mind. Before Liam knew it, they’d fallen in love.
Killian felt like a fool, and excused himself as soon as possible, leaving the newly engaged couple to themselves. Emma soon followed him and they got in her car, heading back towards their side of town. She was quiet, giving him time to think things over. The entire thing had been one huge misunderstanding. Liam and Emma were never dating.
“So Liam and your mom.”
“Foster mom, and yes.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Admittedly is was weird at first, maybe still is a little but they both seem really happy and I guess that’s what truly matters.”
He nodded and the silence settled back in until they arrived to his apartment again. He wasn’t really sure what to say, but he knew he needed to apologize for how he’d reacted so he invited her up for a night cap. Neither spoke as they walked upstairs, or even as he poured her a generous tumblr of rum.
It wasn’t until he finally took a sip that she spoke up.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you thought I was with Liam?”
He nearly spit the rum out all over her. After some backtracking and a lame attempt at saving face, he admitted that he thought that they were dating, even when he was still in the Navy based on Liam’s descriptions. That Liam was just hiding the fact that they were together in case it didn’t work out for some reason.
It only led to more questions. Why did you flirt with me then? Why did you kiss me? When did you send me that picture if you thought I was with your brother? Eventually he had to admit that while he knew it was wrong, he’d gotten to know her, and had fallen for her. That against his better judgment, he couldn’t get her off his mind and he’d spent the last year wishing she was his instead.
After they’d both cleared the air, gotten everything out in the open, there was nothing left to say. All that was left was action, as Killian pulled her with him into his room, finally turning his fantasies into reality.
And six months later when Liam wed Ingrid and subsequently moved in with her, Killian took the leap and moved in with Emma.
Another day, another dollar.
A poor man’s mantra. A poor man, yes, but a happy one too.
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