#i've seen both words written with one r and other times with two so i'm gonna assume it's a history thing?

[daily-french-words]

harangue : nf. discours sérieux prononcé devant une assemblée ou une personnalité importante.

ex : Le général prononce une harangue devant ses soldats pour les motiver.

2/10 (at least I think? I'd never heard it before, but it might depend on the region you're in).

oration : a formal public speech delivered on a special occasion.

As always, harangue also exists in English with the exact same writing, but I translated it with something else because translation is hell!

It can also be used in a more familiar context, and in that case would refer to a boring or overly formal lecture, generally used as a negative term.

This one was borrowed from Italian! From arringa, "public speech" and earlier than that from arringo, "arena". These forms date back from around the 1300s, and interestingly enough, seem to come from the Gothic words hriggs and hring (earlier form), "circle, ring" (which may also be at the origin of the current English word ring).

#what do you MEAN i'm obsessed with etymology #who? #me? #i would never #hahahahahahahahaha #(help) #anyways um there may be mistakes for the italian origins? #i've seen both words written with one r and other times with two so i'm gonna assume it's a history thing? #if you ever see a mistake don't hesitate to tell me so i can fix it!!!! #i'd hate to misinform by accident #anyways tag time #french #harangue #french words #main #daily #daily french word #french vocab #french vocabulary #have a good day #WHY IS IT SO COLD IN THIS FUCKING LIBRARY I'M SUEING THEM #if i stop posting before the 160 mark it means i froze to death o7

[justadreamer08]

Love Spiderman, Love Me

Pairing: tom holland!peter parker x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 800 words (way less than I wanted)

Author's note: I haven't written anything in forever and this didn't really come out as long as I wanted it to, but I don't want to stretch it so....Enjoy?

Masterlist

You lived in the bustling city of New York. You'd always been an interesting person, full of kindness and curiosity, who had a heart that was open to love. Since you were young, felt a deep connection to the city, its people, and the everyday heroes who walked its streets. Your mother loved about him. You'd just been you and your dad. You guys lost your mom to bone cancer when you were in the 6th grade. You and your father had each other, and got through the hard times. The two of you grew closer through spending time, and your loves for science. You'd always been good at it, and he was just a huge geek. One of the things your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

One sunny afternoon, as you strolled through Central Park, you found yourself witnessing a crime in progress. A group of thieves had cornered an innocent civilian, and the situation seemed dire. Without a second thought and maybe some misplaced confidence, you sprang into action, using your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

Unbeknownst to you, your act of heroism caught the attention of a familiar web-slinging figure nearby. It was none other than Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood superhero. As Spider-Man swung into action, you found yourselves fighting side by side, your skills complementing each other perfectly.

Throughout the exhilarating battle, Alex and Spider-Man formed an unspoken bond, their movements synchronized as if you had been partners for years. The connection between you was undeniable, a mutual understanding that went beyond words.

After successfully apprehending the criminals, Spider-Man approached you and isolated the two of you, removing his mask to reveal the charming face of Peter Parker. You'd seen him around school, but never really talked to him much aside from conversations in your shared classes. He wasn't a bad looking guy, his brown curly hair appeared soft to the touch, landing slightly above his eyebrows having been ruffled by him removing his mask, his eyes wide and a deep brown, and his face soft but structured. He's actually pretty cute... His eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at you, recognizing your bravery and unique spirit.

"Thank you for your help back there," Spider-Man said, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and curiosity. "I haven't seen someone with your skills in a long time. What's your name?"

You smiled warmly, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort in Spider-Man's presence. "I'm (r/n)," you replied. "And it was an honor to fight alongside you, Spider-Man."

"Peter..." he spoke, "I'm Peter." He hastily said, offering his hand to shake with a small smile.

As days turned into weeks, you and Peter found yourselves drawn to each other, spending more and more time together. Peter was captivated by your courage and unwavering sense of justice, while you admired Peter's dedication to protecting the city he loved. Your conversations were filled with laughter, shared dreams, and heartfelt moments.

You would often meet on rooftops, away from the prying eyes of the world, where you could be your true selves. You would share your hopes and fears, while Peter would confide in you about the challenges he faced as both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

With each passing day, your connection deepened, evolving into something more profound. It wasn't just the shared experiences of crime-fighting that brought them closer but the unspoken understanding and support you offered one another.

One evening, as they watched the sun set over the city skyline, you turned to Peter, your heart beating with vulnerability. "Peter, I have something to tell you," they said softly. "I've fallen in love with you. Not just the hero behind the mask but the person beneath it."

Peter's eyes widened with surprise, and then a gentle smile curved his lips. "(R/N), I've been feeling the same way," he confessed, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You're an extraordinary individual, and being with you has brought joy and purpose to my life."

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them basking in the glow of their newfound love. You and Peter embraced, their hearts intertwining like the threads of a spider's web, creating a love story that transcended the boundaries of superheros and stories

Together, you would continue to fight for justice, using your unique abilities to protect the innocent and make the world a better place. And as you swung through the city, in Peter's arms, You and Peter knew that your love was an extraordinary force—one that would inspire and change lives, both on and off the pages of your own story.

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #short story #shortandsweet #i’m bored #i procrastinate a lot #this is so random #spider man

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: The Funhouse (1981)

The Funhouse (1981)

Rated R

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2023/10/review-funhouse-1981.html>

Score: 2 out of 5

Where classic slashers from the genre's golden age are concerned, The Funhouse stands out as a serious disappointment. It had Tobe Hooper returning to the slasher genre seven years after The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, it boasted a carnival setting that promised some thrills and chills, and the killers were legitimately compelling in ways you don't normally get from slasher villains, so the parts were there for a great movie. What went wrong? A lot, if I'm being honest, but the biggest problems start with the characters and the pacing, which are both terminal. Throughout the film, I was constantly annoyed by the group of four teenage friends who served as this movie's focal point, and waiting for them to finally get killed. I'll give the film points for trying to develop its main characters and present a portrait of backwoods, trailer-trash Americana on the skids in the form of the sleazy carnival they go to, but when the people you're supposed to be rooting for are either loathsome or one-dimensional in such a manner that the Eight Deadly Words ("I don't care what happens to these people") have kicked in about twenty minutes into the film, all of that goes to waste. Both of the guys are sleazy horndogs, the "hot" girl of the group is a vapid airhead, and the heroine is one of the flattest, most boring, and most useless final girls I've ever seen in a horror movie, somebody who survives almost by pure luck with how many stupid mistakes she makes during the last act as she tries to fight the killer.

Having such a terrible cast made it that much more insufferable how the film stretched the obligatory twenty minutes of first-act character development into roughly half the movie. Until the main characters enter the titular funhouse, there are barely any horror elements in this film barring a fake-out opening parodying Psycho, and the first kill happens around the 45-minute mark. This meant that half the movie was spent watching these jackasses run around a carnival acting like jackasses and doing nothing to endear themselves to me, all while I was constantly checking the runtime wondering when they were finally gonna get hacked to pieces. What's more, there's an entire subplot involving the heroine's little brother that contributes absolutely nothing, feeling like it was there solely to pad the runtime without any payoff. The kid is briefly in danger at one point, but any tension fizzles out soon after as that is quickly resolved. The intent of the subplot felt like it was to give the protagonists hope for a rescue only to snatch it away, but again, I cared nothing about their fate, and consequently wound up more interested in the kid's own peril instead, a subplot that ultimately didn't go anywhere. In a film with better-written protagonists, spending that much time developing them so we come to care more about their deaths would've been a laudable creative decision. Here, however, it meant that the film simply dragged.

The worst part is, there were moments when a much better film was peeking through here, moments that were themselves connected to its characters -- specifically, the killers. The clown with the axe on the poster never shows up in the film, but fortunately, we do get a pair of very interesting villains, a father-and-son duo who run the titular carnival dark ride. The son is a malformed, mentally disabled freak whose father employs him as a worker on the ride while wearing a mask to cover up his hideous face, and who has a habit of killing locals in the towns the carnival travels through, with the father covering up the murders and growing increasingly frustrated having to raise him. These two could've made for the villain-protagonists of a much better movie, one about the two of them traveling with the carnival and working with all the other colorful characters who are part of it (who are all far more interesting than our actual main characters from what we see of them), all while a trail of corpses follows them with each new town they visit. Rick Baker's effects work made for a very scary-looking monster, while Kevin Conway was by far the best actor in the movie as the killer's undeniably evil yet multilayered father.

The Bottom Line

Rob Zombie should remake this movie. No, seriously. His sensibilities line up perfectly with the mood this film was trying to go for, and he'd likely avoid a lot of its worst pitfalls. As it stands, though, Hell Fest is a better version of this movie, which just has too many problems with its boring characters and sluggish pacing for me to recommend it to anyone other than the most diehard '80s slasher aficionados.

#the funhouse #1981 #1981 movies #horror #horror movies #slasher #slasher movies #tobe hooper

[wonderwomanfantasy]

braid boy

Okay so I wrote two versions of this fic one where the reader is black/ has natural hair (this one!) and one where they aren't (read here)

Sero x reader

warnings: I am white as sour cream and I followed a couple tutorials to write this I'm so sorry if what I've written makes no sense.

word count: 1,000 (about)

summary: Hanta just can't keep his hands off of you...r hair

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you said looking up at Hanta. Sero smiled at you and leaned over the back of the couch, he cupped your chin and tilted your head back, and kissed you. He felt you smile against your lips and he started to melt.

Sero groaned and fell over the couch and landed in your lap. You laughed and stroked his cheek.

“Well hello there handsome,” you said. Hanta tried to brush his bangs out of his eyes but the hair fell right back in his face. He tried again and again, it fell right back in his face. You laughed as he huffed.

“Babyyy help I can’t see you,” he whined. “I need to cut my hair,” he huffed.

“No It’s sexy when it’s long like this,” you said making Hanta flush. He knew you thought he was hot, but it was nice to hear you say it.

“Here let me,” you said pushing him to sit up, he followed your lead and sat, even though he was tired enough to fall asleep standing. Gently you carded your fingers through his black hair pulling it away from his face and off the back of his neck. You picked a hair tie off the coffee table and snapped it on.

“tada,” said holding up your phone so he could see. Sero turned his head looking at the braid. Man, it had been a while since he’d seen his forehead.

“It’s perfect,” he said turning around to give you a kiss. “Now I can keep my hair long and see you,” he said kissing you one more time, he cupped your cheek and pulled you into him, he stroked the side of your head, accidentally touching some of the baby hairs that framed your face.

“Any plans darling? We’ve got the whole day to do whatever you want,” he said smiling at you goofily.

“I was actually going to do my hair today,” you said

“Oo let me help,”

“You can’t braid my hair the way I braided your Hanta,”

“I know,” he scoffed, then got suddenly got bashful. “I’ve been watching tutorials online and some of my friends even let me practice on them,” he explained.

“Please?” he asked. He looked so cute, you just couldn’t say no.

The two of you settled in the living room, everything you used laid out for him, and enough Real House Wife’s episodes to last you years.

“This is going to take forever,” you warned, he cracked his knuckles.

“I’m ready,”

He started by combing through your hair than doing a little bit of prep work, priming spray, straightening your hair slightly with a heated brush, moisturizer, then coconut oil to lock in the moister. Then Hanta made his way around your head sectioning the hair into smaller pieces using tiny elastics. Then he got down to business, he took two pieces of synthetic hair, linked them together in the middle then laying one half of the loop over your natural hair right at the base of your scalp, wrapping and knotting it in place, then keeping the hair as close to your head as possible he started to braid. He was very careful to braid the hair in the direction the braids would eventually lay.

You hadn’t lied, it took the better part of the afternoon and you went through way more Real housewives than either of you’d like to admit, but Hanta sat back proud, looking at his work.

“Done, praise me beloved,” he said. You smiled.

“Not half bad,” you teased and leaned in to kiss him.

But before you could reach him, the lights shut off. “Huh,” Sero said, he tired the tv, nothing. The lights the ceiling fan, the stove, all nothing.

“I think the power’s off,” you said, he nodded, his face grave like he’d snapped back into hero mode.

“Will you find the candles? I’m going to call the building manager.” you nodded and followed his orders, digging through some drawers until you found a handful of candles and matches. The sun was setting casting golden rays of light into your shared home. It was romantic, or at least it would be if you weren’t freaked about the power outage.

“Apparently the powers out down the block but it should be back in a few hours,” Hanta said clicking his phone off

“How long is a few hours exactly?” you asked

“The landlord said two hours but I’m willing to bet it will be at least four,” he sighed. Your frown deepened, “awe don’t pout baby we can still have fun even without internet, we’ll play battleship or something,”

“Hanta if the power is out, the AC is out,” you sighed and Hanta’s face fell as he came to the same realization. You were in the middle in one of the worst heat waves Japan had ever seen, both of you were going to be cooked alive.

“We’re going to die,” he said, the grave look on his face made you burst out laughing. Hanta grinned, you were so pretty when you laughed.

“Would you like to spend the night with me while we’re roasted alive?” he asked offering you his hand, you grinned and took his hand in yours lacing your fingers with his.

“Of course.” It was already starting to heat up inside, the hot air seeping through the walls, the summer mugginess inescapable. You wondered if this heat was what caused the outage, everyone in Japan running their air conditioning on full blast.

Normally Hanta would use this opportunity to pull you into him for a long nap and some snuggles. It had been a long time since Hanta had been scared of rejection, but he was fairly sure that if he asked you to hold him now you’d shoot him down.

“How about a nice cold shower together? I mean the water still works,” he asked.

“There aren’t any windows in the bathroom, we’d be completely in the dark,”

“That’s what the candles are for, we’ll just stick the candles in the shower and-” he offered, then immediately backtracked. “Nevermind that was a bad idea, a bath?”

“Hmm, a candle-lit bath, how romantic,” you said, tugging him to the bathroom.

The two of you lounged in the bath across from each other. Hanta had spent a pretty penny getting a bathtub long enough for him to fit in comfortably as an added bonus the tub ended up being large enough for two. The water was cool, lit with several different candles placed around the lip of the tub.

Hanta let himself relax for the first time that day. He loved his job but sometimes it felt like the world was on his shoulders, but being here with you and just basking in your presents made it better. Even if he had to work hard to be everyone’s hero, but at least you were there for him his own personal hero.

#sero x reader #sero imagine #sero hanta x reader #sero x black!reader #sero hanta #sero x reader fluff

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Here's part 4!!

Had to split it in two again...I'm sorry. Post the other half right after this one here!!

Gif credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

Jerome x female reader (part 4)

Warnings: smut

Word count: 1877

*Days later*

Living with Jerome wasn't as bad as you actually thought. Yes, his possessiveness and always playing the boss annoyed you a lot but you've learned to ignore it.

You literally zoned everything out that made you feel uncomfortable or that annoyed you. And it worked. You were a lot calmer than before, you didn't start panicking immediately when Greenwood or Dobkins were staring at you. You stayed calm because sooner or later they would end up arguing with Jerome if he got aware of it because he hated people staring at you.

You even found 2 new friends: Tabitha and Barbara.

They both were kind to you and helped you how to defend yourself against all these strange lunatics. They treated you how to use a gun, how to fight with or without weapons. You weren't a pro but you got it fast.

It was just a little ordinary for you that they both kept fucking behind Theo's back but it didn't matter to you. You did that with Jerome as well, well, it was more or less behind Theo's back. You both weren't really quiet and you both did it pretty often...and the bites and marks on your neck were pretty obvious because your neck was full of it.

Right now, you were relaxing in your bed watching the news:

"Breaking News

Since a few days (Y/n) (Y/ln) will be missed. Her friend (Y/bff/n) (Y/bff/ln) told that she was about to visit them after watching the cruel claim the Maniax' shot caller Jerome Valeska was giving us. Her friend said she tried to call (Y/n) several times but she didn't pick up the phone. Her friend's afraid that either the Maniax have kidnapped or killed her.

If you see her or have an idea where (Y/n) (Y/ln) could be then please report to the GCPD. Every information can be useful!"

You turned the TV off.

You smirked for yourself. Yes, it sucked that you couldn't be with your friends not could you go out - but you loved this big amount of attention. You were the person peope were looking for. Everyone's eyes were on you as if you were a famous person.

Suddenly your door opened - Barbara.

"Hey darling- ugh, is Jerome still in the bathroom?" She sighed frowning "He should hurry up. Time is running!"

"Calm down Babs," you giggled a little "Wanna watch the news with me? I'm in the TV! My friend is missing me."

"Yeah, I've seen that already." She gave you a short smile "We just need to be careful now. Don't want cops chasing my ass."

"Understandable." You nodded "But...you know, somehow I like this attention. All eyes on me...I never really had that. I was just a simple girl, you could even call me a ghost because no one really noticed me...and now the whole city knows me because I just 'disappeared'. I feel famous and happy."

"Probably because you're famous, somewhat." Barbara gave you a grin flickering her tongue.

"May be, I just know I want more of it. I love being the head of missed people, and I love being the headline." you chuckled letting out a sigh in happiness.

"Wow, Jerome's really got a big effect on you, darling." Barbara scoffed.

"Why's that?"You frowned not understanding what she meant.

"Sweetie, days ago you've been the most anxious and shy girl amongst us. You were frightened by everything that was just moving...and look at you now. You're a smart, calm, sassy ass that reaches for fame - as he does." You both chuckled.

"I could tell you the same with Tabitha. She has to be a master in bed for calming you down after a stressed day. I mean, on the one you're bitching around and after Tabitha 'talks to you in private' at night, you're a sunshine in the next morning." I laughed loudly making Barbara blush.

"Says you! I think I don't need to remind you that the whole city can hear you." Barbara mocked with a laughter.

"At least just the city is hearing me." You laughed louder "I'm sorry, I had to."

"Hey ladies,"Jerome came out of the bathroom before Barbara could respond. He was   just wearing a claret gown, his hair was still wet from the shower "I see, we're in a good mood, doll, aren't we?"

"As always," you grinned "Just had a very nice conversation with Barbara."

"Yeah," Barbara grinned, it faded though as she faced Jerome "Now hurry up, ginger. We don't wanna be late." She left quick.

"She's a feisty one, I like that," Jerome just let out a sigh with a short grin closing the door "But I hate being bossed around. I am the boss!"

He made  his way to you slowly. Then he grabbed your hands pulling you fast out of the bed that you stood close to him. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck while wrapped his around your waist.

You knew this rough undertone on him. He tried to be kind in front of you but actually he was pissed of being commanded - especially by a woman.

"I know and she does, too. She doesn't mean to be a bitch," You assured him with giving him a smile "She's just stressed. Probably needs a quick fuck or something to calm down."

"Hm," Jerome just hummed and shrugged, not really paying attention to what you were saying. Instead he grabbed your ass harshly pulling you close to him. You could feel his bulge growing against your leg "Talking about a quick fuck..."

Before you could even answer, Jerome pressed his lips against yours. His hands grabbed your cheeks and pressed your face even more against his to intense the kiss. His light chuckle in the kiss only made let you blush after you let out a little moan. He pressed his body against yours to close the gap between you two. Your lips parted this time to let his tongue explore your mouth and you couldn't help but moan as he slipped his tongue into your mouth fighting for dominance. You r hands wandered up tangling hour fingers into his hair, gripping and pulling his head further down, deepening the kiss.

He pressed you against the wall and slid a knee in the space separating your thighs to position his body between your legs. His hands gripped your ass lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He lowered his head down to leave a bunch of wet kisses on your neck, you pulled him in closer with your hands and bit your lip in arousal. He licked and bit at the soft skin of your neck, leaving his mark there making you gasp. His lips found yours again and once more.

Your shirt was ripped apart from your body by his eagerness to fuck you and he could feel a strip of your bare skin against his. You arched up into him more and suddenly your hands left his head so that you could the knot of his gown. You shove the gown down from his body, now he stood naked in front of you; his errection was strongly pressed against your crotch.

He unclasped your bra hastily and without pulling away from your mouth he tossed it across the room. With your bare breasts against his chest, you felt a rush of heat slowly spread throughout your body.

You tightened your legs around his waist and pressed him even more against your body. You became horny from the wild make out session; you wanted him right here, right now.

His hand reached down and shoved the button of your pants through its hole impatiently. Eagerness was written in his face. He couldn't wait anymore to finally inset his hard member into you, feel the warm and wet walls on his skin, making you moan and scream his name until you cum.

He slid his hands down to your panties, ripping it off from your legs and throwing it behind him. He moaned quietly when he felt just how hot and wet you were for him. You didn't want to wait any longer and neither did he, it was becoming unbearable. You both wanted, even needed pleasure to be satisfied.

Instantly and without any kind of hesitation, he shove his member into your wet entrance. You let out a gasp followed by a moan, your body stretching to accommodate him.

He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

Your whole body felt weak with every thrust he did into you as every time you had sex with him. You were completely understand his control, he could do everything with you. Your body shivered slightly through this pleasure he was giving you. Every thrust hurt more, each of your moans became louder, Jerome became faster. Your head was dug into the crook of his neck, your nails were dug into his shoulders leaving marks while you tried to adjust just fast pace and the pleasure.

"Oh God, Jerome!" You cried out loud while scratching his whole back down.

You felt his nails were dug deeper in your ass and his grunts made you shiver in pleasure with every thrust. And again he drilled his long hard member into you making sure he hit your g spot every time he entered your cunt.

He loved hearing you moan, you say he was addicted to it. You moans were giving him chills, aroused him. He couldn't get enough of it. If he could he would fuck you non stop, just to hear all these sweet moans of yours.

You moaned louder as he speeded up. You were hot and tight around him, you heard him swearing with a moan as he felt your walls clenchinh more on his member.

He groaned your name out quietly and you responded by rocking your hips up to give him all the pleasure he needed now.

You bit your lower lip nervously as a knot was built in your abdomen - you knew you were close. You moaned uncontrollably caused by all the pleasure which didn't even give you the chance to hold anything back - you really couldn't as hard as you tried to. You couldn't handle it all. It was too much for your body. You legs started to shake with each of Jerome's thrusts.

Gripping onto his back tighter, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your cry as you came all over him without any warning. He gasped lowly as you covered him in your tight and warm wetness. Your legs were twitching and your chest heaving. He thrust his hips several more times until he couldn't hold back any more, releasing into you. A soft moan escaped your lips upon the contact, you held him close and kept your head underneath his neck, breathing heavily with him.

"Didn't know you needed it that much right now." You said under gasps still trying to calm down from your high.

"Dont think I'm done with you, doll," Jerome grinned "I just wanted to let you breathe"

#dc #dcmultiverse #gotham #jerome valeska #dc villains #dc villian #gotham city #gotham fandom #gotham jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #cameronmonaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan #jerome valeska fandom #jerome x reader #jerome valeska x you #gotham series #gotham x reader #gotham fanfic #dc universe #oneshots #oneshot #request

[moiloru]

(Another) Your Lie In April Review!

When I began watching anime in earnest last summer, I didn't know what to expect, to be perfectly honest. A good time would be my best guess.

Definitely not a punch in the stomach and waterfalls of tears, at least!

Maybe it's a little cliché, but this is the month of April, so I'll be reviewing... Your Lie In April today! Yay! As mentioned in the title, this was my second time watching this anime, and while I had already written a review for this anime the first time, I feel like this masterpiece deserves better than that.

Yes, masterpiece.

First off, the basics: Your Lie In April is a romance/drama/music anime long of twenty-two masterful episodes. It first aired in 2014 and immediately was a resounding success.

Rightfully so.

I'm definitely biased, and I know that, but this anime is to me as close to perfection as you'll find. I could mention some tiny, tiny flaws, of course, but my goal isn't to write something 100,000+ words long, so I won't.

Everything, from the plot, to the characters, to the music and the openings, to the artstyle, is way above average. Let's dive a little deeper...

First off, the music! Well, it's an anime about music, so you would expect it to be great, which it is. The pieces themselves are great (and I'm not a big classical music amateur, so true fans of Mozart, Chopin and the like will be even more thrilled than I was!), and they are filled with such great feelings to be made even better.

The two openings, "Hikaru Nara" and "Nanairo Symphony" remain at the very top of my list even to this day, especially the first one. And when you see all the hidden details on your second watching, you feel kinda dumb, haha.

It's not something I've seen in other anime so far, but the art style is really pretty in its own right! It is very distinctive, and the way the artists used the colors is both significant and beautiful. Some scenes are nothing short of breathtaking.

The plot... It's tough to talk about the plot without spoiling, but I'll do my best. To put it in a nutshell, it's nearly flawless. There are no weak points to speak of, it flows well, it uses character development to perfection, the cliffhangers at the end of each episode are beautifully cruel, and the ending is the highlight of the anime. That's as much as I can say without venturing into spoiler territory, but that should be enough.

And, of course, the characters. Everything I mentioned above was already fantastic, but the characters are just on another level. Apart from the two main characters - who are my favorites from any anime - they might not seem like much at first glance. What makes them shine is how well they're all linked with each other. There's this common thread - or threads - that serves as a way to make them all better than they would be individually. There are no "side characters" to truly speak of - as the anime focuses on the main characters - but even the sid-iest of characters are amazing. Maybe one tiny flaw I can point out is how one of the protagonist's friends doesn't get much development, but it's nothing much.

I need to talk about the two main characters now. As I said before, I consider them the two best anime characters I've come across so far. The trope they're based on is quite simple, actually (and I won't say what it is not to spoil), but it works miracles. It's honestly as if they were made for this trope, and that the plot had been shaped around them. They work amazingly well as a duo, and I sincerely doubt I'll find a better duo any time soon. Yeah, that good. Their character development is as close to perfection as you'll find, their dynamic should be an example for the whole anime industry, their designs are simple yet unmatched, and their personalities are much of the same. Shoutout to the voice actors who did an amazing job for the whole character cast, too.

All in all, you've probably realized how much I adore this anime. I could praise it even more than this, but I think it's best if I let whoever will read this discover it by themselves.

Now, this may be surprising, but I'm not sure if I even want to recommend watching this anime. After all, it's great and all, but... are you ready for it?

If you think you are, keep some tissues near you. Could be useful.

Just saying.

Below is the (updated) tierlist for the characters! Thank you for reading!

(Link: https://tiermaker.com/create/your-lie-in-april-characters--105359)

#kousei arima #kaori miyazono #tsubaki sawabe #ryota watari #emi igawa #takeshi aiza #hiroko seto #kousei x kaori #your lie in april #shigatsu wa kimi no uso #kimiuso #anime #anime review #tierlist #tier list

[aliferous-ly]

I've never really asked for a drabble before... If it's okay with you, could you do 7 "I almost lost you" and 32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Logan and Deceit? I just kinda thought that it had the potential to make some angst with a happy ending. Oh and I only found you recently, but I love the writing that I've seen so far. I always love finding amazing writers. (I'm sorry, I'm a total suck up)

im gonna start this with if you’re on mobile, i am So Sorry

i started this and was like “ha im getting a little carried away” and then went “oh no” 

and thank u dear!! that’s v sweet of u awe 

summary: Declan is a loud and proud aromantic. Then he realizes why he feels weird, and off, and awkward around his best friend, Logan, and his world starts to crumble. 

warnings: f word twice, lying, parent being imprisoned, angst, questioning identity, if there’s anything else lmk!!

It starts, Declan thinks, when Logan smiles. 

The situation starts out innocuous -- they’re sitting in Logan’s room, Declan tossing a tennis ball up and catching it unsuccessfully, making a right disaster of Logan’s room with all the objects he keeps knocking to the floor. Logan, naturally, continues doing his homework. 

And they’re just -- talking. 

Declan likes to think his world should shift on a more momentous occasion, maybe with fireworks, fingers brushing against one another dramatically, Jason Mraz playing in the background. 

But it’s the smallest thing. Declan throws the tennis ball up in the middle of his sentence -- “You can’t tell me you hate white pines, they have the softest needles” -- and he misses it on the way down. 

So he takes a tennis ball to the face and sits up, sputtering, rubbing at his nose, arm reaching out to snatch it before it rolls too far. 

Logan chokes out a laugh, eyes squinty and wrinkled at the edges. His laugh fills the room for a few thrilling moments and Declan thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and he can’t stop staring at Logan’s engaging face, in the upturn of his lips and dimples carved in his cheeks. 

He’s radiant. 

Declan’s heart squeezes, lungs filling with something heavier than air, a foreign feeling washing through his veins. Like rose petals or sunlight. Woodsmoke or freshly fallen snow. 

The gears in his chest shift and settle and he feels… right. More right than he’s ever been. 

Which is, of course, why fear swiftly follows this gorgeous wash of emotions, because this is unusual and anything unusual is often bad. 

Declan forces down the incoming wave of anxiety, schooling his expression into one of smooth disdain. 

Just in time, too, because Logan opens his mouth and says, “It was only a matter of time until you paid for your crimes.”

“I’m too pretty to die,” Declan replies, thanking the heavens that while his brain may be steadily turning into mush (have Logan’s eyes always been that striking? Or his shoulders that broad?) his tongue still works. 

“Implying Death themself has a type, intriguing,” Logan says. He flashes a look over his computer, the after effects of joy still written on his features. “Bold of you to declare what Death likes.” 

Declan tries for a smirk but can feel the way his mouth turns to genuine grin, the traitor. “Aw, Logie, are you saying I’m not everyone’s type?” 

“That would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?” Logan says wryly. He types away at his computer, dutiously finishing an English assignment that Declan is currently ignoring for bigger and better things. “The aromantic everyone pines over.” 

That strikes an odd chord in Declan’s chest, like he’s a half-tone off; not quite wrong, but not quite right, either. His expression must change, because Logan pauses in his typing. He blinks at Declan. “Something wrong?” 

Of course, that’s when Declan’s brain decides that those words are simply too much, too much, his shoulders tightening, back tensing. It’s like his rib cage is squeezing his vital organs, which seems rather counterintuitive. He hates this unknown, this awkward buzz against his skin, the prickling feeling through his bones. 

The resounding crash of everything happening all at once is overwhelming and Declan can’t seem to decide whether to sit as still as humanly possible or bolt. 

Or, of course, do what he does best. 

Lie. 

“I forgot to do something for my mom,” Declan says, barely registering the words before they fall from his lips. He hasn’t lied to Logan in a very, very long time (he knows it’s because they have been best friends for ages, but his mind twists it into something of a foreshadow, even though it’s not, it’s not) and the resurgence of his bad habits leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but. Desperate times. Desperate measures. 

“Oh,” Logan says, disappointed, and Declan longs to explain -- what? 

He angrily shoves the emotions deep into his chest. If he can’t explain them, he’s not going to give them the right of control over his actions. 

(He ignores the prevalent fact that he has just lied to his best friend in order to escape his presence, but denial, evidently, is not just a river in Egypt). 

“Sorry,” Declan spits out, meaning so much more than it seems. He stands, grabs his backpack, shoving papers and folders into it haphazardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Logan calls out hollowly. Declan takes that as his leave and he slips out Logan’s bedroom door, backpack in tow, keys clicking in his pocket. 

Something deep inside him aches. But he doesn’t know why. 

Frustrated, Declan gets into his car and slams the door shut, fingers white-knuckled against the steering wheel. He takes a breath. He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s probably just sick, or something. 

Or something. 

Not for the first time, Declan longs for a working aux connection. 

Because flicking through radio stations does not help. 

Lewis Capaldi croons Someone you loved on one, Sam Smith singing Dancing with a Stranger. He woefully flips through two channels on commercial break, groaning when the last one has Adele, which, really?

He remembers Virgil’s favorite station, and turns up the volume to forty, My Chemical Romance’s Mama screaming from his speakers. He pulls into his driveway with Hallelujah by Panic! at the Disco blowing his ears out when he remembers that Logan once spent hours rambling about Brenden Urie and a conspiracy about curses and he slams his palms on his steering wheel, furious. 

Can he not escape Logan for a moment? 

As Declan slams the car door shut, throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and freezes at the sight of the stupid Beware, dog sign that Logan had vandelized to read Beware, snake, he realizes that no, he really can’t. Because Logan is his best friend, his favorite person, and his life is irreversibly intertwined with Logan unless he up and leaves with absolutely nothing, starting from scratch. Which would be worse than death. 

He trudges up the stairs like a funeral dirge and when his door shuts with a click he leans against it, steadily sliding down until his knees almost touch his chin. 

“Fuck,” Declan says out loud, unable to keep the emotion termoil inside like it should be. 

His phone buzzes where it fell from his hands, angry against the carpet. Declan sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. And picks up the phone. 

There’s one text from Logan that reads, “are you okay? I’m not irritated but you left rather…” 

Well. The beginning reads as such. Declan assumes there’s more, but he’s unwilling to open it for the time being. 

Then he has three from Virgil, two of which reference an obscure meme video and the third which reads “r u home i wanna play dark souls on ur ps4”. 

And there’s a text from Patton asking if he wants normal chocolate chips or mint ones, and a followup that proclaims “never mind i got both! :3c”. 

He sends a quick “no” back to Virgil and merely opens the texts from Patton, leaving only Logan’s unopened. I’m not irritated but you left rather… suddenly? 

A strange emotion flutters about Declan’s chest and he groans. He doesn’t feel this way about his other friends, not even Virgil, who he’s known for ages and has gone through four too many devastating arguments to not be close with. Nor does he feel like this with Patton, his brother. Those bonds are, he’s certain, platonic--

Declan lurches forwards with a gasp, the realization bowling him over and leaving him breathless. He curls his fingers into the carpet, focusing on the texture instead of the immediate swirl of panic. 

He -- does he have a crush on Logan? Him, Declan, the aromantic king, who once boasted the world could never produce a human Declan could fall in love with?

And it doesn’t track with him falling for Logan either because Declan would have loved him months earlier, suddenly falling in love with someone he’s loved platonically… it just doesn’t make sense. Declan can’t wrap his mind around it. 

Maybe he’s just reading the emotions wrong. How can he -- what can he do that -- which -- 

What would Logan do? 

An experiment, Declan’s mind supplies helpfully, so, well. Declan pressed his back against the wood of his door and thinks. 

Hypothesis: he’s in love with Logan. 

In love? A very rational part of his brain yells. You were talking about a crush before!

So Declan thinks, and revises. Hypothesis: he’s feeling romantic attraction to Logan. 

Then he takes a few minutes trying to remember the following step in the scientific method and ends up looking it up on his phone, and it’s really long so he’s just going to cut some corners. 

Procedure: 

Well, Declan can’t think of any way to do this physically without making an entire fool of himself, so he changes the experiment into a thought experiment. 

Procedure: Consider emotions of other relationships and compare to feelings for Logan. 

Okay. Declan settles. He considers. He tries to imagine holding hands with Virgil and giving him flowers, but he can’t really picture giving Logan flowers either, so if it’s weird for both -- but he wants to hold Logan’s hand, not Virgil’s, and sometimes Patton’s, and Patton is his brother, he knows for sure his emotions are strictly platonic. So if Patton is the control group, the certainty of platonic emotions, Virgil is the one with normal emotions, and Logan has some weird emotions, so if Virgil and Logan’s are merely two different shades of friendship then Declan will know. 

Declan closes his eyes and imagines kissing Logan, because that’s what romantic partners do, right? He imagines stepping closer to him until there’s inches of space between them.. Declan thinks about leaning in, brushing lips before pressing in, heat curling in his chest and oh god, oh god Declan’s face is on fire. 

His eyes shoot open and he can only imagine how panicked he must look right now. He presses his hand against his chest, taking deep breaths. Then, reluctantly, he thinks about kissing Virgil -- nope, nope, eugh he physically shakes his head, gut rolling uncomfortably. 

So that is a big contender for Declan has romantic feelings for Logan. 

He sighs and clunks his head against the door. This sucks. Declan hates feelings. 

The door downstairs sounds, opening and closing, followed by a resounding, “HEY, CICI, LOVE YOU!” 

Dee sighs, a smile flickering across his face. He pushes to his feet and exits his room, wandering downstairs, aloof. 

“Hey Pat,” he says, leaning against a wall. 

“Ci, I’m making lots of cookies!” Patton declares, beaming at him, and Declan’s heart drops. 

His expression must, too, because Patton’s features are suddenly painted in concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Declan says, and he feels bad, unexpectedly, for not replying to Patton’s text earlier. “Lots of cookies? With mint and chocolate chips? Enough to feed an army?” 

Patton’s arms wilt and Declan reads the tremor in his shoulders, the glisten of his eyes. Patton tries for a smile and misses by a mile. 

Declan crosses to where Patton stands in five steps, wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, pressing his cheek against Patton’s head. “What’s wrong?” 

Patton takes a shuddering breath, returning the hug. “Nothing, really. I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Ah,” Declan says. He tightens his grip on Patton. “Do you want help?” 

“No.” Patton presses his face into Declan’s chest. He’s shaking, ever so slightly. “Can you talk with me at the counter, though?” 

“Of course,” Declan agrees, mentally side-tabling his emotional turmoil. 

“Okay,” Patton says. He’s quiet for a few more moments, then says, “And Steven Universe later?” 

“Anything,” Declan says. He makes a face. The word had slipped out unbidden, but Patton doesn’t tease him for it. 

“Alright.” Patton pulls away, takes a breath. “I’m about to make the best damn cookies the world has ever seen.” 

“Damn straight,” Declan says, grinning. Patton pauses for just one moment more before moving to the kitchen, dropping various ingredients onto the counter and moving smoothly to gather more. 

Declan wonders at his influence on Patton’s vulgar mouth, then shrugs. Patton’s a teenager. He can do what he wants. 

“Weren’t you hanging out with Logan?” Patton asks conversationally. He’s pulling down bowls and sugar, obviously expecting easy small talk. And normally Logan is easy for Declan to talk about. He talks about him all the time.  

So when Declan winces, Patton turns and addresses him with full attention, brows furrowed. “What? What happened?” 

“I…” Declan considers for a moment to just lie about it but dismisses the thought. This is Patton. “I think I have a romantic attraction for him.” 

Saying it out loud only cements the certainty in Declan’s chest. No, he hasn’t quite completed the experiment, but he just… knows. 

The knowledge is both relieves and spikes his anxiety about the whole situation. 

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes wide. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Declan says honestly. 

“Alright,” Patton says. He turns back around and a wave of affection flows through Declan. “How did Roman do on his audition?” 

Declan hums, eternally grateful for Patton’s ability to turn the conversation away. They talk about Roman’s skill as an actor for a few minutes, jumping to Patton’s involvement in VEX robotics (focusing on the robotics instead of the people) and they kill about forty minutes with Patton talking about his baby bot, Pat Jr. 

When the clock strikes seven, Declan throws together two grilled cheese sandwiches and they eat in front of Steven Universe and the gems, Declan stretched out along the couch and Patton creating a throne of blankets for himself. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Patton murmurs, eyes never straying from the bursts of pastel on the screen, “but if you do have a romantic attraction to Logan it’s okay. You weren’t wrong in saying you’re aromantic. Because that fits you, you like it. There’s just more strings attached than you originally thought.” 

Declan blinks, the smallest smile growing on his face. “Thanks, Pat.” 

Patton hugs a pillow, eyes bright. “Love you, Ci.” 

Declan pushes his foot against Patton’s blanket pile in response. 

--

“Do you think we have to move?” Patton says, three hours into their movie night. 

Declan breathes, slowly inhaling as if it gives him an excuse to not reply. “I didn’t. I don’t want to. But probably.” 

“That’s why you haven’t told anyone,” Patton says. He shifts, turning to look at Declan. Declan maintains eye contact with the screen, despite having seen this movie countless times. “And why you told me to keep it under wraps.” 

“Yes,” Declan says, because really, he lies to the world, but he doesn’t lie to Patton. 

He tries not to lie to Patton. 

“But something changed yesterday.” Patton’s not asking questions. Somehow, he just knows, despite being left out of the loop. “And you were going to tell Logan today.” 

“Yes,” Declan says. Static thrums through his veins. Aladdin ignores a buzzing genie on screen, swatting him away to benefit his own desires. 

“What happened?” 

“Mom’s not getting out,” Declan says simply, because that’s it, really. Their mother is not getting out of jail. And with no father, their final hope is their uncle, three states over. Their father’s brother. 

Two months away from eighteen, and Declan is forced to concede. 

“When?” Patton asks. He’s trembling, but he’s not crying. Declan knows that will come later. 

“Because of the legal mixups and leaning on Sasha, two weeks, probably,” Declan says. Sasha is, of course, their next door neighbor, the crazy cat lady of the street who “watches” the boys “all the time”. 

“Two weeks,” Patton whispers. There’s a sheen in his eyes. Declan tries not to look but his gaze is like a magnet and Patton stares, stares, stares. “That’s not enough time. That’s not…”

Declan closes his eyes. 

He really thought he would win. 

He thought he could win. 

They only had to last two more months. His deadbeat mom had to last two months and they couldn’t even keep the legal proceedings--

He takes a breath. “Uncle Thomas is nice, at least.” 

“I don’t want uncle Thomas,” Patton snaps. 

“Well we don’t have a choice, Pat,” Declan bites out, stomach rolling at the words, eyes snapping open. 

Patton recoils, hurt flickering behind his eyes, but Declan knows it’s not enough to overpower the fire roaring in Patton’s lungs. “We did, we could have put more savings into mom’s defense, we could have found a place to live before it was our last resort but now we have to tell all our friends that we’re moving hundreds of miles away in two weeks!” 

“Mom doesn’t deserve to get out,” Declan spits. 

“I don’t CARE.” Patton’s fingers are clenched in fists. He stands. “I don’t care if mom deserves it or not. We deserve to stay.” 

“The world doesn’t work like that,” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth and snaps it shut, obviously restraining himself. A thousand emotions swim behind his eyes. Declan hates every single moment but he doesn’t say a word. 

He leaves. 

He leaves Declan sitting alone on the couch, watching Patton’s favorite movie. A door slams shut and Declan exhales heavily. They don’t get into fights, it’s just not -- Patton’s normally too upbeat to bother, Patton hates being angry, Declan normally doesn’t -- there’s nothing to get angry about, not in the grand scheme of things. They share easily, they have chaotic conversations, they… 

They’re fighting. 

Declan buries his head in his hands. He was too hopeful, too caught up on the possibility of the future to notice the sinkhole of reality. 

He really thought -- things would work out, Patton has his lucky charm of a personality and Declan works, he works hard, so things should -- Declan’s a senior in high school, halfway through the first semester, he should be worried about grades and school dances and friends and crushes and --

Logan. 

Declan curls, releasing something like a sob or maybe a dry heave. Whether or not he’s in love with Logan (most signs point to yes but there’s no way Declan’s addressing that) he still loves Logan, he loves being with him and talking to him and ordering his ice cream before Logan gets there to see the surprised and fond expression cross his face. 

Two weeks? 

To say goodbye to his best friend? 

Before moving, before picking up his entire life and his family (just -- Patton. Just Patton) and going somewhere Else?

Declan doesn’t feel like an adult. 

He doesn’t want to be an adult, either. 

Even if the world is asking him to be one. 

--

“You’re acting strange,” Logan observes. 

Declan shrugs. “I’m always strange.” He takes advantage of shoving fries in his face to avoid expounding. 

Logan sighs and puts down his burger. “Declan. Something’s going on.” 

Several somethings are going on, actually, but thanks. Declan shrugs again. “Haven’t been getting much sleep.” Which is a true statement. He’s written about ten different ways to tell Logan he’s leaving, nine of which are ripped up in the trash, one of which Declan just burned because he doesn’t want even scraps of that disaster to exist. 

Five days to go and Declan still hasn’t told him. Five days.  They don’t have many classes together, otherwise Logan would have pieced together the weird treatment from the teachers. Declan wonders if just disappearing into the void is an alright way to go, but a little Patton in his head chastises him for even considering it. 

Then again, at this rate…

“Hm,” Logan says. He has a thoughtful look on his face that’s absolutely devastating to Declan’s heart and general health and coherence of thought, let alone considering what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Is there a reason?” 

Declan considers, eyes narrowing as he stares at nothing. “I neglect to answer that question.” 

“So yes,” Logan says. The words fall from his lips with crushing sorrow. He takes a breath. “Why aren’t you telling me?” 

“Telling you what?” Declan says, internally wincing at the hurt flickering through Logan’s eyes.  

“Okay,” Logan says instead. He turns back to his food. 

They eat the rest of the meal in silence. 

-- 

Declan watches absentmindedly as Logan attempts to make a tower out of pens and pencils. With the addition of Roman’s copious amounts of colored pens, the tower is quite impressive. 

Two days. 

(Two Days).

Declan’s all packed. Sorta. Not really. He’s going to skip some classes in the future and pack all at once, throwing everything into the boxes (the empty boxes lining his room), not caring if anything breaks. 

He… 

He hasn’t told Logan yet. 

Or anyone, really, but Logan’s the one that -- the one that matters the most. 

Logan did, however, ask him if he was okay three times before leaving him be, because Logan knows that Declan becomes testy if asked the same question consistently. 

So basically, as far as Declan can figure, Declan’s a tool. Logan is trying, and Declan is giving him jack shit to work with. 

Patton has told all his friends, which means it’s only a matter of time before Logan finds out, right? Patton’s a sophomore, they’re seniors, and the school is large, but it’s also not as big as it seems. 

Roman, sitting next to him, hums under his breath as he types. He’s editing his college essay, which Declan would be doing if he had a college essay to edit and also cared enough. The atmosphere is strikingly calm, which leads to an anxious buzzing under Declan’s skin. 

Tell him. Just tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him. You’re in a library, he can’t get loud and yell. 

Declan wonders if yelling would be better, actually, than wide eyed stares and wounded expressions. 

He’s contemplating the merits of writing a letter (absolutely not, he doesn’t know why he’s even considering it) when he spots Patton out of the corner of his eye. 

Patton in and of himself does not scare Declan. 

The fact that he’s bee-lining for Declan and his friends does make him a bit nervous, though. 

“Cici,” Patton hisses. The cutesy play on Declan’s middle name sounds odd in such a harsh tone of voice. He glances at Logan before staring at Declan. 

Declan’s starkly aware of Roman and Logan’s attention when he says, “yeah?” 

“You told them?” Patton says, and Declan--

Well. 

A combination of fear and fury and regret zip through his veins at warp speed.

But Declan’s well trained in the art of deception. 

He schools his expression into one of cool indifference. “That I’m taking you for ice cream? Nah. I didn’t think they’d care. You wanna go right now?” 

Roman huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to his computer. Logan doesn’t look away, though, hand resting on a bright yellow flair pen. 

Patton’s brow furrows. “I mean the--”

“Man, if you were that impatient you could’ve texted me,” Declan interrupts with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Get me some ice cream next time,” Roman says, grinning. His gaze doesn’t leave his screen. “Bye, loser.” 

“Bye,” Logan echoes. 

Something registers in Declan’s brain-dead skull that Logan sounds lifeless because his best friend has been distant (Declan. Declan is Logan’s best friend). 

Declan pauses, sighs. Patton looks outraged and about two seconds from outing Declan. 

“I’m sorry,” Declan says. Logan looks up at him. “It’s not your fault. Just… I’m going through some things. You deserve to know. I shouldn’t shadow you without any info.” 

Patton looks even angrier, if possible, but then Logan’s talking and Patton hates interrupting people. 

“Okay,” Logan says, soft as ever. “I’ll wait for you.” 

And if that doesn’t make Declan feel like the nastiest motherfucker. 

“Let’s go,” Declan says, pulling Patton along before Patton lets loose. 

He opens his mouth, but Declan beats him to it, whispering, “Shh, we’re in a library.” 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Patton hisses instead. 

“Language.” 

“You haven’t told them?” Patton exclaims. He yanks his wrist from Declan’s grip but continues following him, arms gesturing wildly. “You’re the worst.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Declan mutters. 

“You better get me ice cream now,” Patton says, crossing his arms. “After making me watch that.” 

“That’s fair,” Declan concedes, and then realizes he’s going to have to spent the next thirty minutes listening to Patton chastise him and -- 

Honestly, he deserves it, but he doesn’t want it, but before he can say anything, Patton says, “don’t even think about escaping this.” 

So he’s stuck listening to Patton chastise him for the next thirty minutes until their next class starts. 

But he gets a turtle sundae out of it, so it’s like, at least 20% a win. 

--

“CICI,” Patton screams from the living room. 

Declan shoots to his feet, tripping and slamming his knee into the doorframe, scrambling to reach Patton as swiftly as possible. He appears at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against the wall, chest heaving, eyes blown wide. “What? What is it?” 

He assesses Patton for damage, but Patton’s standing with his phone clutched between his fingers, shaking ever so slightly but appearing physically fine. He’s staring at Declan, lip trembling. 

“Patton?” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. He sniffs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat as he wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t tell you! I should let you suffer because you’re mean.” 

“Patton,” Declan says, approaching his brother like one might a wild animal. 

Patton shakes his head and Declan stops. 

“I’m upset!” Patton says. Then he lets out a laugh, choked. “But I’m so relieved.”

Declan doesn’t say anything. 

Patton sniffles a few more times, then peeks at Declan through his fingers. Declan tries for a smile, sheepish. Patton smiles back, watery and soft. His shoulders shake as he laughs softly, his phone pressed against his cheek. “I was so scared.” 

“Me too,” Declan says. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, the anger draining from his face and leaving a wide-eyed pile of nerves. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not mean. You’re just scared.” 

“It’s okay,” Declan says. His arms hand limply by his sides. He wants to do something with them, to cross his arms or put them in his hoodie pockets or something, but he also wants to leave them available for when Patton wants a hug, so he stands awkwardly instead. “I forgive you.” 

“I’ve been calling Uncle Thomas,” Patton says. 

Declan’s heart does something funny in his chest. 

Patton pulls his hands away from his face, rubbing his cheeks clean, staring at his phone for a few moments before his hand drops, dangling at his side. “He’s -- he said he’s coming here. His job can be done online and the stuff he can’t do online he’ll fly back for which won’t be often, he said it’s important to him that we -- have a support system throughout highschool, and he wants us to finish here before doing anything else.” 

The information barely filters through Declan’s mind because when Patton exhales another sob Declan steps forward and envelops him in his arms on instinct. Patton’s legs go weak. Declan sinks to the ground, Patton pressing his face into Declan’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is good. This is good.” 

“Sometimes emotions have a funny way of showing,” Declan says. He runs his fingers through Patton’s hair, untangling the curls. “You’ve been stressed. It’s okay.” 

“Why aren’t you crying?” Patton says. He taps his palm against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a smack without any of the power. “It’s not fair.”

Declan laughs, sort of. “I might later. I don’t know. Emotions are weird.” 

“You never told your friends you were moving,” Patton says. “Will they ever find out?” 

“Probably,” Declan says. He squeezes Patton. “I know you told your friends. It’s better your way. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Mm.” 

Declan can feel the rise and fall of Patton’s chest. It slows as Patton calms down. “We don’t have to move,” Patton murmurs. 

“We don’t have to move,” Declan agrees, and Patton presses even closer. 

--

Declan doesn’t know how he finds his way to the beach but at one point he’s baking Patton cookies and the next he’s sitting on a slab of concrete overlooking the pitch dark waves. He knows Patton is sleeping, or is at least pretending to sleep. He vaguely remembers writing a note in case Patton looks for him. 

It’s been three days since Patton discovered Uncle Thomas’s moving plans. Discovered? Convinced? Declan isn’t sure. 

And he doesn’t really know how to react. He’s been moving on autopilot, making dinner, doing homework, putting in minimal effort into his friendships so they don’t abandon him on the side of the road -- 

No. Declan shakes his head. Putting minimal effort into his friendships because his friends don’t deserve to be cut off without a word. 

Nothing feels right. 

(Something is off). 

He hears footsteps and before he can whip around, before fear has the chance to truly take over his body, he hears, “this seat taken?” 

“No,” Declan says, and Logan sits next to him on the concrete. They’re quiet for a few moments, watching the reflection of the moon, tasting salt on their tongues. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Logan says finally. 

Declan closes his eyes, breathes. His emotions are all tangled up in his chest and he doesn’t want to tap into it for fear that if he lets out a little he’ll let out everything. 

But Logan deserves to know. 

(He deserves someone better.)

“My mom lost,” Declan says, which sounds nicer than it did in his head. “She’s unfit to care for us, anyway, but now she’s officially calling prison her new home.” 

Logan’s quiet. Declan listens to his breathing. He spies Logan’s hand against the concrete and longs to close the distance and entangle their fingers, just for a modicum of physical comfort. The slightest hint of warmth permeates the air around Logan and Declan wants to lean closer, to press their arms together. 

“My Uncle, on my dad’s side, is taking care of us. He… wasn’t originally going to move here, but Patton talked to him and he decided moving here is the best course of action.” Declan shifts. He doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to explain. 

Logan stops breathing. 

“I almost lost you,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper. 

Declan glances at him and can barely comprehend the amount of horror shining in Logan’s eyes. Logan’s staring at him, expression open and terrified. “I almost…” He exhales, shaking. Declan watches him so closely he can see the sticking of his chest as he breathes, the tremor of his shoulders. 

Declan’s heart stutters and he wants to tear his gaze away but he owes, he owes Logan this. Even though the only thing he wants to do is run away, to preserve himself. “I -- I never told you,” Declan says, more scared than he has been in a long time. He opens his mouth and stops, shrinking away. He looks over Logan’s shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact. “We were supposed to leave two days ago. I was going to tell you and then…” 

Then I found out that I’m in love with you, and it freaked me out so much I closed myself off. 

Logan’s truly shaking, and Declan doesn’t know what to do. You caused this. This is your fault. 

“Ugh! I’m sorry,” Declan exclaims. He can’t stand this, these tentative moments, fragile as glass. He wants to take a hammer to the whole affair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much but I was scared, and it’s not a valid excuse, but I was terrified, Logan, I couldn’t leave you! You mean too much to me!” 

“You mean a lot to me too,” Logan says, but Declan’s on a roll, now, there’s no stopping the hurricane in his heart. 

He moves his gaze to the waves, finding solace and energy in the constancy. “I was going to tell you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago in your room, and then I freaked out because -- and then I left, and haven’t been able to figure out how to word it since, and Patton’s better than I am, he told his friends almost immediately, imagine, having worse emotional competency than a fifteen year old--”

“Roman found out,” Logan says, grinding Declan’s tangent to a halt. “He mentioned something to me but I needed to hear it from you.” 

Declan stares at him. 

“I asked Patton if you were at home,” Logan explains. Declan can barely tell in the shadows, but Logan’s face seems to darken. “When he said no, I knew there was one other place you would go. Probably.” 

Declan worries his lip. He’s that predictable? 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Logan asks, quiet. 

“Because…” Liquid anxiety slogs through his veins. His voice drops, quiet, quieter than the sound of waves. “Because I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” 

For a second all he can hear is the crash of the sea and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know why the moon isn’t falling from the sky, why the stars haven’t combusted, because his world feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. 

“I discovered that,” Declan continues, the words slipping between his lips before his mind has any say in the matter, “and didn’t know what to do, and then I needed to tell you I was leaving, and I love you, and I couldn’t. Because I’m a coward.” 

Another beat. Declan takes a long breath. “I still love you. And I’m no longer leaving.” 

“I suppose… now would be a bad time to bring up demiromanticism?” Logan tries. 

“It would be a terrible time, but thank you,” Declan says, and he can’t help the small puff of laughter that escapes. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, then, and Declan can’t breathe. 

He turns to Logan without thinking, searching his sapphire blue eyes for deception even though Logan has never, ever lied to him. He can’t hope, he can’t dare to hope, the world would never give him two miracles. “Don’t trick me.” 

“I’m in love with you,” Logan clarifies, nervous. His hands are wringing together and he’s biting his lip. 

Declan reaches out, fingers trembling, to brush against Logan’s cheek. “You…”

“I’ve been in love with you,” Logan says. He’s looking down, away from Declan’s gaze, but he leans into his touch. “For awhile. I never wanted to bring it up because… you were so adamant about being separate from romance…”

“I thought I was,” Declan says honestly. “Which is why this is a real fucking trip, let me tell you.” 

Logan laughs, and some of the tension in the air dissolves. “I can imagine.” 

“God, I love you,” Declan says. He brushes his thumb underneath Logan’s eye. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, eyes wide and sparkling, then he moves forward and cradles Declan’s head in his hands and Declan short circuits because he’s right there he’s RIGHT THERE and he’s touching him he loves him he loves him--

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan says, and Declan just stares at him dumbly because his mouth stops working. His heart is barely going, the only reason he’s not dead is because his body has some sort of instinctive survival instinct, or something. 

Emotion clog his throat and Declan doesn’t know how he’s not sobbing already so he’s unsurprised when the smallest tear slips out of his eye. 

“Oh,” Logan says, wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s -- it’s not -- it’s not you,” Declan chokes out. “God. This is so embarrassing.” 

“I don’t care,” Logan says. He leans closer, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Declan’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry.” 

Declan smiles thinly, blinking away tears. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Logan stares at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan says. His trembling hands hold Logan’s jaw. “And you’re so smart and passionate, and you have the most wicked sense of humor, and you’re my best friend.” 

“No,” Logan shakes his head. “I mean, I am your best friend, but there’s no deserve in a relationship. We’re just people. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. Please don’t sell yourself short.” 

Declan wants to say that only proves how good Logan truly is, but he settles for a simple, “Okay.” 

Logan brushes hair out of Declan’s eyes, then sighs, dropping his head to Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s hands slide down to Logan’s upper back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Declan says. 

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Logan replies, muffled. He pulls away for a split second, eyes blurry and a crease already showing from his glasses pressing into his skin. “But if you withhold life-altering information like that from me again there will be issues.” 

“I won’t,” Declan says. He swallows. He hates promises. He hates them, because he never feels like he can maintain them. “I’ll… I’ll try my hardest.” 

Logan searches his gaze, nods, and then presses fully into Declan. 

“Woah, okay.” Declan shifts as Logan clings to him like a koala bear. Logan’s basically in his lap and Declan, well. Declan has no complaints. 

“I can do this as much as I want because we’re in love with each other,” Logan mutters, and wow, if that doesn’t send a thousand vibrations across his skin. In love with each other. 

Declan grins. He likes the sound of that. 

“You know,” Logan says conversationally. His fingers trail up to press against Declan’s face, outlining his lips. “I love it when you smile.” 

Declan hums, his smile broadening. Me too, Logan. 

Me too.

#im also posting this on ao3 bc this is a MONSTER #loceit #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #brotherly moceit #god the dynamics..... so good #roman sanders #virgil sanders #well virgils mentioned hes not actually in it OOPS sorry virge love u #does the ending make sense?? i hope so #deceit: i also love it when i smile thank u logan #<-- incorrect interpretation yet i love it #did someone order some uhhhhh fluff #willowaudreykeyes

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 2: Verse 2

Chapter warnings: alcohol, depressive symptoms, fantastic racism, stuttering written by someone who doesn't stutter

Chapter summary: in which the Stone starts to influence

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

My church offers no absolutes / she tells me "worship in the bedroom" / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when I'm alone with you

"How was the dining with the good masters?" the Tesseract asks. Loki swears it's sarcastic.

"Terrible. The ones that didn't demand for me to leave were whispering and staring, and some even pitied me… I should have never told Odin that you showed me," they sigh as they lay down, seiðr creating a glass of wine in their hand. Usually, his magic has a tickling sensation, playful and livid. But since Frigga's death, it's numb.

"You're right, I don't belong here… I don't belong anywhere…" they sigh, staring into the goblet with the red liquid. Perhaps, if he could find the strength to end it all…

"No, this is not the solution to your problems. You won't find your family there," it cuts off the train of thoughts before Loki can even process it.

"The only person I ever knew as family is there, Tesseract. Why can't I join?" they don't cry from the mention of Frigga, they haven't done it for weeks. He's just as numb as his magic now, the talks with the Tesseract and goblets of wine being the only things that can make him feel something, but they start weakening too.

"She lied to you, like Odin did. They taught you your magic, yes, but also how to hide what you feel and who you are. She is to blame for the nothingness you feel now, just like Odin is. Tell me, is that what family does?" it argues.

Loki opens their mouth, but closes it again. "No… then, what do I do?" he asks, staring at nothing.

"You live, until you find something worth dying for," it responds, voice softer than ever. He just scoffs and brings the golden goblet closer to his lips.

A blue light makes the goblet vanish before Loki can take a sip, filling them with the dark red liquid. "Hey! That's my favourite tunic, you needn't stain it!" He glares at the top right corner of his chamber.

"You have not taken it off for a week,"

"Because it's my favourite tunic,"

The stone lets a sigh. "Go take a bath, change to your second favourite tunic, try eating something that's not wine and act like you're the heir of two thrones for once or I'll teleport you to Muspelheim and let you burn,"

Loki sighs and gets up, following the shower order (especially because they've started to feel their hair going oily and gross). He had almost missed the feeling of scorching hot water on his skin, even though it started to hurt since his Jötunn form came to the surface.

When they walk back into their chamber, damp hair dripping on their second favourite tunic, they spot a tray of fruits and tea on their bed. "Thank you, Tessie," he smiles and sits beside it, his stomach begging for him to raid it.

I was born sick, but I love it

"I am not negotiating. Not until this monster is out of your house!" Gæirasson spits, small vacant eyes glaring at Loki. They don't shift their face or posture, but the room still freezes.

"Please, reconsider your words. One should not offend a prince like this," an elf notes, as if Loki cannot speak for himself.

"You're to ask for permission before you speak, Gæirasson will only get angrier with you." Odin had told them before the council.

"Please, learn how to manage your fury. You'll start a war without realising it if you keep going like that," Frigga had said countless times.

"A prince of monsters, yes. Isn't worth any more than the Giants I've sent to Hel," the outrageous man growls.

"Do not let him speak to you like this, you're worth much more than these words," the Tesseract says. Loki breaks his posture to take a deep breath, and then turns to Odin with a calm face.

"Father, may I answer to those words the way they deserve to?" they ask, never breaking the collected face. It fools Odin enough to nod a yes.

And Loki lets a grin appear, showing his fangs.

The water inside the goblets turns into ice as Loki rises from their seat, pale skin fading to reveal a blue and marked one. With his new height and black horns, he barely fits in the room, bloodshot eyes glaring at the old man enough to make him think that the thin irises would turn into daggers and stab him.

The man shivers, but not from the cold

"We are not afraid of your riches or your army and your bravado is fooling no one, G-Gærasson," they state, not breaking eye contact as their tongue strammers.

"You think you can scare me when you can barely speak, Giant?"

The negotiation table breaks in half as Loki slams his hand on it. "You have spoken enough!" they yell, summoning a new wave of shivers down the lord's body.

"You will leave this room unharmed only because of my mercy, and you know well that your words have given me every right to kill you right here and right now. You want to bring war to my house, I don't give a fuck. You know why? Because we both know very well that I can chop your soldiers to pieces without using neither my Frostbite nor seiðr and with ease. Go ahead and start a war, I have no problem to end it. The only demand the palace has is for you to pay us with the gold you owe and get lost. Or else, your house will cease to exist and will stay in history only as an example of what happens to those who anger me!" he growls, never breaking eye contact with the lord and not mouthing a single lie. Gæirasson loses his colour, stands up and leaves, panting like a dog.

"Loki, enough. You have your war, are you satisfied?" Odin asks after the door closes.

Loki's fiery eyes turn to the king.

"Satisfied? You should be the one to do this! This man offended our house and the throne greatly, they canonically deserve execution! And you made me sit there like a coward and listen to those insults!" they yell, this time out of frustration. The old Loki would never raise his tone at Odin, good thing he's gone.

Odin takes a deep breath, trying to keep themselves under control. "My son, I understand that you're going through a bad time, but there's no need to lash out like this. Would your mother like seeing you growling and yelling and cursing like a sailor?"

"You have no right to bring her up, she has nothing to do with it!" Loki's fury only gets wilder after this. But Odin does not coward away.

"I said enough! Shut your mouth and leave right now! And you'll be in charge of the war, since you can end it with such ease," he yells back, ten times louder and more intense. Loki lets the Æsir glamour return but doesn't lower themselves more as they walk away.

"You started a war, do you regret it?" the Tesseract asks as long as they're alone in a corridor. Loki grins.

"Not a bit."

Command me to be well / Amen, Amen, Amen

Loki walks around in his room, his fingers picking up each other once again. They tried to quit this habit after Frigga's death, but to no avail.

"Te-te-tesseract," he calls out, biting his tongue at the stutter. Since they've started the war, this annoying stutter has come back at full force, probably from the stress.

"You summoned me, Entropy?" it asks, more like states. Usually, Loki would find comfort only with the stone. But now, it only makes him move nervous.

"Y-y-yes. I did-I did call you to-to…" they puff out some air, closing their eyes with shame.

A hand grabs his hands, making them calm down. Loki raises their head to face an illusion of the Tesseract, trying to mimic contact.

It's a form of a body, tall and lean and glowing blue. Its eyes are looking at him with sympathy, face soft. It's the most breathtaking person Loki has ever seen.

"You can speak freely with me, don't fear," it smiles, tilting its head. Loki lets out a sigh.

"You said that, w-wh-when I'm r-ready, I-I'll agree to your-to your commands. I-I am ready," they speak, not even trying to mask up some confidence.

"I'm glad to hear. But, you'll have to acknowledge that there'll be a cost-"

"I don't care. I-I've lost ev-ev-everything already. You're th-th-the only one left," he lowers his head.

The hand moves to their face, cupping their cheek and brushing its thumb against their cheekbone, huge blue eyes staring into them. He can't help but tilt towards the hand, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

"Perhaps you shouldn't… I've caused you enough pain, why seek out for more?" it doubts. It's almost funny, listening to doubt in a voice Loki knew to be so determined.

"I-I-I'm sure. Ple-please," they whisper, opening their eyes again. The form nods.

"Very well, Entropy," the serious and awe striking voice Loki knows returns, moments before the blue form vanishes in a light.

#marvel #loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tesserloki #marvel angst #angst #heavy Angst #fantastic racism #language #cursing #alcohol #depression #odin's a+ parenting #mental illness #delusions #it's bad #what did i do #what have i done #grab your zoloft and be ready for a rollercoaster #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series #fanfic series #multichapter

[kimikotsuki]

Fandom discourse and culture has changed a lot over the years and I always try to err on the side of caution whenever possible.

The reasons writers create and share their work are varied and diverse: maybe they're trying to improve their writing and welcome advice, sometimes it's all about the ~ S Q U E E ~ because you loved the show/character and wants them in more situations, sometimes the reason is the ~ R A G E ~ about the direction canon took and you plan to murder it and use it's blood to re-write the story; this is more an illustrative than exhaustive list and sometimes there'll even be multiple reasons at once of course.

And sometimes, those reasons do not match or go well with any type of criticism, even well intentioned, constructive ones.

I saw an post on Tumblr that ilustrated very well another reason why one shouldn't simply assume that con-crit is welcome: if you go watch an amateur performance (in the most literal sense of the word of non-remunarated, regardless of quality of performance), one won't immediately presume afterwards to go to the artist and start critiquing it.

At the same time, I wholeheartedly think that one of the most wonderful, unique possibilities of fandom is the capacity for collaborative work between the authors of a story that is being posted as it's written and it's readers, culminating in an end product with quality that ends up being more refined than otherwise it would've been.

That type of interaction is even sometimes one of the main reasons people write fics, to not only create something, but also to share the act of that creation.

That works almost like making all the readers of a fic into beta-readers and can be a wonderful thing, but the post argued that the work done by betas is analogous to editing in published works, and that such a relationship is based on built trust, so while yeah, that dynamic between writer and all their readers could work, assuming and simply barging in is generally more harmful than productive.

When I adopted that new reasoning, I debated whether or not I should then mark all my bookmarks on AO3 as Private and make them inaccessible to anyone else, but in the end opted not to, mainly because even though I mainly write them for my future self, I also feel other readers can benefit a lot from knowing how the experience of someone who liked a work enough to rec it went, specially if while reading that fic they stumbled upon things they didn't like.

If there's one thing I learned from over 15 years of reading fics is that my tastes change over the years, and sometimes it's not even about the quality of the writing itself or even the progression of how polemic subjects are treated at any given time, but rather the moment that I am in changes how I receive the same work, such that tagging a certain work as one worth reading again later with no contextual information on the vibe I was riding when I did that will inevitably lead to a disappointment that is frankly an overreaction on my part.

That happened somewhat recently with a Frostiron fic I read a long time ago, in a moment where I was squeeing like crazy over the pairing (and it was a work of squee, so we matched really well) and it got on my list, but years later, when I was feeling nostalgic over the pairing and went to read my list of besties, the expectation I had was so great that the dichotomy between my experience back then and the one in the re-read were terribly big, even though it was a well written fic, squee and all, and the only real difference was that *I* wasn't squeeing over the pairing anymore.

And at the same time, I found that, in a way, this managing of expectations I do primarily for myself when I create a rec with the bad points of a fic that I loved can also be helpful for others, because even if it doesn't fit 100% since we're different people, I always thought the best recs I've always found were the ones that stated what were the cons of any given story, because those cons might not be something that bothered me like it bothered them or it even might end up being somewhat bothersome to me, but the pros outweigh them and, because I went in expecting to find those things, there's no disappointment in it, so they end up bothering me a lot less then it could've.

The other reason I eventually settled on not making my bookmarks private was actually because of those authors that seek improvement and welcome constructive criticism from all the readers who are invested in their story and value their thoughts and experiences while reading their work, because while yes, better to err on the side of caution and not go offering advice and opinions were those are not wanted, if we let that completely rule everything we do in fandom there will be a lot of loss in regards of this constructive, dynamic and interactive aspect so characteristic and wonderful to this type of media.

I know authors can have access to the bookmarks made of their fics, but unlike comments, it's not quite a space exclusively dedicated to them or even for interactions between reader/author.

In a lot of aspects, I'd even go as far as saying it's a space primarily for readers: it's not something that will culminate in a email sent to the author's mailbox, it serves mostly for filtering and ordering purposes (like when you're looking for fics to read and apply a filter to show only fics with a certain number of bookmarks or to order the fics shown from the greater to the least number of bookmarks) and also so readers can, reading these bookmarks, have a better idea on what's to expect from a work from different readers with different personalities and world views and ways to pereceive what was written.

And since it's a space the author *can* have access to *if* they want, it's possible for them to look at that place to see that con-crit while, at the same time, not being a place where that con-crit will get shoved in their faces if they *don't want it* and as such it seemed to me to be an overall respectfull and good compromise between those two points that seemed very important to me, and one of the only way I've found of making it known if that type of interaction is welcome, I'd be happy to head over to their comments and talk there.

If I'm marking it as a rec and commenting, I'm doing it because I think that fic absolutely is one of the best stories that I had the pleasure to read; however, the number of characters allowed in a bookmark rec are limited, so if I end up putting into it anything besides an incoherent keyboard smash, those things are going to be whatever points I feel are very important to keep in mind whenever starting to read it so that reading experience is the most enjoyable possible both for my future self who's going to look at that besties list and decide on what to read again as well as first time readers who might have seen the rec and will go in knowing somethings that, by their nature, don't tend to be things we tag for; they will have mostly what amounts to con-crit, so if you welcome this type of interaction or if the rec I made is bothering you in anyway, I urge you to get in contact with me through the fic mail I linked in my AO3 profile.

This post is getting linked there because the profile section doesn't allow enough characters for everything that I had to say about the subject.

As soon as I see the email, I'll either be happy to either tag the bookmark as Private so it won't be visible to anyone but myself if it bothered you or head over to your comments section so we can talk better about the points I raised if this type of interaction is something you welcome.

#fandom discourse #ao3 stuff #fandom culture #bookmarks

[spreadplaylist]

SPREAD CH.4 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT INTERVIEW - TINA MATHIEU

This month's SPREAD Artist Spotlight is a dear friend of mine, Tina Mathieu. Let's get a closer look at her life and her music!

Tina: Hey there.. My name is Tina Mathieu. I’m a singer/songwriter based in Los Angeles. I moved out here by way of NYC, where I spent roughly 15 years writing and playing acoustic soul music. Within the past few months, I released my first indie r&b single and ran my very first official trail run... uphill - So i’m kinda feelin’ myself. ; )

Dan: Haha hi Tina! Those are definitely things to be proud of. I'm so excited you're our SPREAD featured artist this month! Diving right into your life and career a little more, how long have you been a songwriter/artist?

Tina: I started writing my own music after I stepped away from musical theater back in 2003. I was 22 with a broken heart and a cheap classical guitar. Typical story. I’d been writing poetry since I was a child - and somehow the ability to turn my words into melodies just clicked.

Dan: And when it clicks it's the best feeling ever. Since you have been writing for a while I am sure you have some sort of routine. Describe the place that makes you feel the most inspired creatively.

Tina: The mountains and the shower… recently I began trail running through the Santa Monica mountains. Moving through the open air, surrounded by 360’ of a world reminding me how small I am gives me major perspective - I become elevated in every way. I usually record voice memos while I hike and continue playing with those ideas once I’m home... washing all the dirt the off. The shower makes me feel like I can sing anything.

Dan: More power to you on trail running. I don't think that's something I could ever have the endurance to do! But if we're talking singing in the shower, I definitely feel like Beyoncé the moment I step in, even though I definitely don't sound like her...

Quickly moving on to get that image out of everyone's head...I know you are a very motivated and driven person. Do you have a personal mantra that helps you get through each day? If so, what is it?

Tina: These days when I feel like so much is out of my control, I like to stick with “One day at a time” and the serenity prayer... Accept the things I cannot change - the courage to change the things I can - and the wisdom to know the difference. Oh wisdom…

Dan: I've never actually heard that prayer. That's something I may have to adopt. I definitely use the day-at-a-time mantra or I tend to get overwhelmed.

So, now that you have released a new single, I know you are trying to get out and perform in LA a little more. Coming from experience I know that's a blessing and a curse. What do you think is a misconception people have about performing?

Tina: That bigger notes mean better singer. This is especially true in musical theater or televised singing competitions. I’ve had lots of internal struggles with this misconception. After dealing with vocal nodes, I had to start letting the strengths within my tone, emotion and storytelling depict my artistry - rather than belting my life away.

Dan: To be honest I think reality singing tv shows have done some hurt to singers because everyone watches them and then expects everyone to have a huge, belting voice. But we have to make room for the soothing, sultry vocals too. ;)

If you can pick, what song of yours are u most proud of? Why?

Tina: I’m super proud of two songs. ‘Downward Spiral’, my first single that I released, was a long time coming. I wrote it about 2 ½ years ago in NYC after dealing with some family turmoil. I’m proud of it because I actually followed through with it. I’ve written tons of songs and always found excuses to not finish them. When I released ‘Downward Spiral’ I felt ready. I had no excuses left.

I’m also very proud of the next song i’ll be releasing in October, ‘Ring Off’. Reliving the discovery of an affair is probably the most raw i’ve been in songwriting yet. It still hurts when i sing it and i think it makes people uncomfortable… which means I did my job.

Dan: I've heard both and I have to say they are both chilling. I don't even know if I could pick a favorite. And again, congrats on the new single!

I know that this journey is hard to follow through with sometimes, and its easy to get caught up. So throughout your years as a songwriter, who is one person in your life that has influenced and pushed you to be where you are now?

Tina: Influenced and pushed are two different things for me. I’ve had several artist and musician friends that have inspired me immensely. My family has always supported and believed in me. But as for pushing me to where I am now... I did that. Lots of people gave me advice and thought I was wasting my talent by not following through for so long, but I couldn’t do anything until I was ready - from the inside - an inner push that was long overdue.

Dan: I'm so happy to see that push now, because you're amazing! It's crazy how we can hear kind words and support from so many different people but we equally have to hear us say it to ourselves, too. With this unstoppable Tina, describe a typical day in your life. What are you doing? What do u enjoy the most about it?

Tina: I’m a mom - so everyday starts the same... I have to wake up way earlier than I prefer to blindly pour apple juice for a 4 year old dude. I also work in tv production so I’m often juggling a freelance lifestyle which allows me the opportunity to make music. I try to hike or trail run whenever I can squeeze it in. Also, Target. I’m mostly at Target.

Dan: Target always saves the day. Also, you are my hero. Now that we've seen a glimpse into your grind, and that you are not holding back in your music making any longer, what do u think is the biggest misconception people have about working in the music industry?

Tina: That you get discovered and industry people figure everything out for you and you just get to sing and make money. EASY. It couldn’t be more of the opposite. Being an artist is running a small business - the financial investment, the self promotion, understanding the convoluted money splits on the back end of a song... I mean you really have to love the ‘making music’ part of it.

Dan: You have to love it almost more than anything else. There's so much more behind the scenes that people do not think about. Being where you are today, and having just released an awesome single, if you could go back in time to the Tina Mathieu who just started out as a songwriter and artist, what is a piece of advice you would give her?

Tina: Be nice to yourself. It’s ok to tell people that you are a songwriter. You’re not a phony. And you don’t have to hide behind other people’s success… you deserve your own.

Dan: Preach, girl. Also discussing your day-to-day life, how do u manage a busy schedule and stress? How do you recharge when u need to?

Tina: I try to stay as organized as possible - Google docs run my life. Hiking and weed are my stress relievers. Often paired together. :)

Dan: We definitely need those stress relievers to get us through the business. Breaks away from the madness are so important.

A part of this business also includes of failed attempts or let-downs. I feel like they are so common you can easily lose track. Tell us about a time that you feel like you failed musically. How did u overcome this?

Tina: When I found out I was pregnant, I felt like I completely failed musically. I had yet to put out a single, yet to release an EP… and to be honest, I thought that being a mom meant that I had run out of time. I wrote a depressing song that day (that no one has ever heard) and decided to accept my failure as an artist. Luckily, being a songwriter is simply a part of me that won’t go away. It took a few years to start finding my way again - but I’m actually better than I was before and now I have someone very special to impress.

Dan: You are a natural songwriter. I don't think it could go away if you tried to make it! I am really touched by your answer, and I can't help but be grateful for all the badass moms we see in the industry that are killing it. Ya know, Pink, Beyoncé, Adele to name a few... It gives me hope that other moms will be inspired to keep going; that they're not done after having a kid. And I'll be the one to say I am SO glad you didn't give up. We desperately need your music in the world. Also...your kid is ridiculously cute I can't handle it. He'll always be your number one fan!

What is a defining moment of your career and how has it affected your life since?

Tina: Releasing ‘Downward Spiral’ is the most defining moment so far. When I teamed up with the Los Angeles Songwriters Collective for their 2nd EP, I committed to myself that it was time follow through. The past few months have been non-stop songwriting, studio time, gigs, co-write sessions, networking and supporting new artist friends. Making that one commitment changed everything for me.

Dan: I have such a big smile on my face. The gears are turning and there's no stopping now!

Looking to your inspiratioins, tell us about an artist/songwriter who inspires u. What would you like to emulate in your own artistry?

Tina: Erykah Badu is my all time favorite artist. Unique in every way. Her voice, words, melodic decisions, storytelling... honest & confident.

“She’s Clever.”

John Mayer is my favorite lyricist - I try to learn a lot from the honesty and details in his poetry. I may or may not have a lyric tattooed around my wrist. (Shhh.. I’m a fangirl!)

I’m not looking to emulate them but rather let what I love in these artists innately come through me - kinda like osmosis.

Dan: You said something SO important right there. I think up and coming artists struggle a lot when they're first releasing music. They listen to their favorite artists and then try to sound like them, but the key is letting what you love about them show in your own way! Ah, I could scream! Nail on the damn head.

So what artist/album/song have u had on repeat lately?

Tina: 90’s male R&B slow jam Playlist - Ginuwine, Dru Hill, 112, etc..

Julia Michaels - She is an effortless genius.

Kehlani - Obsessed with her.

Fiona Apple, Tidal - because her words never go out of style (and I still need a dictionary to get through some songs...)

Dan: What a good ass mix! If people reading this have not checked those artists out, GO! Some of them have been featured on SPREAD before... ;)

Laaaaaast but not least at all, how can we check out ur music and stay up to date with ur releases/posts? Anything we should especially be on the lookout for? ;)

Tina: I’m mostly active on Instagram - @tinamathieumusic. You can listen to ‘Downward Spiral’ on SPREAD CH. 4 - Feels and also stream or download it anywhere music exists. I have a few LA gigs lined up for Sept / Oct, which I’ll be announcing soon - and my newest single, ‘Ring Off’ will be available this fall.

Dan: Y'all heard it from Tina herself! If u haven't already, go check out her new single, 'Downward Spiral' on SPREAD CH.4 and go follow her! LA people, make sure u go see her live to because her music and her voice slays. Thanks again, Tina, for being SPREAD CH.4's featured artist. I'm super excited to see where this next year takes u! :)

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

Thank you everyone for joining us for this month's SPREAD Artist Spotlight! I hope you have let out all the FEELS u can before Friday because a whole new playlist is coming! And it's gonna end with a bang 🎊

#spread #cover #artist #spotlight #up and coming #music #singer songwriter #tina mathieu #downward spiral #apple music #spotify #youtube #playlist

[domliddle]

Potentially Great Albums. Eric B & Rakim - Follow the Leader

"Follow The Leader", Eric B & Rakim's 1988 second coming, is not a good album.

The duo had four albums before they went their separate ways - while most agree that "Paid in Full" was their magnum opus, from there it gets a bit more difficult. The other three have their own great parts, and their own flaws. Both "Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em" (1990) and "Don't Sweat The Technique" (1992) had broad underlying themes both musically and lyrically. They were demonstrably different from the duo's other works, and polar opposites of each other; there was a sense of artistic development in both cases without sacrificing their own consistency.

Therefore, Follow The Leader is recognisable as somewhat of a transitional album, sitting comfortably between the duo's debut and the more mysterious yet aggressive "Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em".

So why is it still loved, even quoted by some as an improvement on Paid in Full?

As it starts with the title track (Follow the Leader, obviously), it's plain to see that they are both in their prime; the beat is magnificent and perfectly fits Rakim's umpteen brilliant lines. This is where any doubts were dispelled. From there, we go straight into "Microphone Fiend"; a brilliant song that caters perfectly to Rakim's lyrical strengths. It employs a broad theme that allows him to deviate from braggadocio and metaphor into something more, without seeming forced. The beat is also perfect, different to the opener and employing a rhythm that allows Rakim to twist his words around it in different ways. "Lyrics of Fury" is the third track in a row to be one of their most praised; a raw, simple breakbeat that Rakim destroys.

So what's the problem? Well, from here, it falls off a cliff.

"Eric B. Never Scared" is nothing out of the ordinary. A good DJ interlude over a good beat. The problem is that it's over 5 minutes long - aside from the title track, the longest of the lot. Eric B's showcases are, at first, an important part of he and Rakim's albums. However, the track becomes repetitive at, if I'm being generous, 3 minutes in.

It gets worse though. I would contend that "Just a Beat" is the absolute worst song across the duo's entire work. It is simply Eric B, warped voice and all for some reason, talking nonsense before a nice beat comes in. His warped voice then reminds you that it's "a beat", in case you hadn't worked that out, and continues to do so throughout the whole thing. Thankfully, it's a bit shorter than the previous one.

"Put Your Hands Together" is strange. It begins with a minute-long piano piece - one that is actually great, but at odds with the rest of the album, and serves to needlessly drag the song out. When the actual thing starts, it's good - nothing surprising, simply Rakim rhyming over a good, stripped-down funky beat about how great he is in front of a crowd.

"To The Listeners" begins with a pretty awful beat, and someone whispering repeatedly about how it's "To The Listeners" and not the people smelling or tasting the album. Rakim's alright on this, but nothing more. In fact, he sometimes sounds off-beat, and raps too slowly to mesh with it.

"No Competition" is a good song. Not bad at all, and more braggadocio over a faster beat that sounds like Follow the Leader's little brother. "The R" is a song that I've never got - apparently ghost-produced by Mark the 45 King, so expectations are high. It's not bad, but clashes musically with the rest of the album, and Rakim himself. Compared to how raw the rest of the beats sound, it almost dominates the song - not catering to Rakim's strengths.

"Musical Massacre" is also great - probably the best of the lot aside from the opening 3 tracks. There's no unique theme lyrically, and the beat is fast and raw - fitting with much of the album's high points.

The ending is what saves the album. Actually, no it's not - it's the instrumental version of the worst beat on the album, appropriately titled "Beats for the Listeners". I wouldn't even have this as a bonus track.

So, judging from the above, not a great album. But I believe something great could have been made from what's there. So let's rearrange things.

Other opinions are available.

1: To The Listeners - cut down

I have to include this song. Therefore, let's begin by cutting the opening loop (and whispering) down - it's not really a song that needs to showcase the beat. Have one 4-bar loop, before Rakim comes in, and one verse - perhaps the actual opening one, or picking at lines that suit a broad, introductory song. Either way, as a stripped-down, slow interlude of a song, it's better placed to open the album.

2: The R - Extended Remix - cut down

Like I said, "The R" wasn't my favourite song on the album. However, I believe the 45 King's extended remix is a perfect opener after the intro. Strip down the opening part a bit, and cut straight after the "what happened to peace?" sample, and you have a good song. The rest of it can come later...

3: Musical Massacre

My main problem with "Follow the Leader" is that it promises so much - I don't think I've ever seen an album of any genre quite so frontloaded. Therefore, "Musical Massacre" is the perfect follow-up; different to the previous vibes, switching it up without giving away the absolute best. A fast, frenetic display that shows the variety on board. I imagine this as best with "The R"'s ending sample cutting straight into this without a beat.

4: No Competition

Same principle as the previous one - great without being the best.

5: Microphone Fiend

It's now necessary to deviate from the two similarly-minded songs, and at the same time throw one of the duo's best moments in. So here it is. Perfectly placed to break up the album.

6: Put Your Hands Together - cut down

The piano bit needs to go, unfortunately. But it's a smooth song that follows "Microphone Fiend" relatively well, not being too jarring.

7: Eric B. Never Scared - cut down

Well, obviously. Cut it down to 1:30 at the absolute max, and you have an interlude to break up the album. Take it simply as that, and instead of a bad song, you have a good buffer between the previous two relatively smooth tracks and...

8: Lyrics of Fury

One of the album's three great openers. Placed perfectly to remind any of the listeners how great the duo really is, in case they'd forgotten.

9: The R - Extended Remix

Another musical interlude. I love musical interludes. "Paid in Full" was helped a great deal by how Eric B's showcases broke up Rakim's - I would argue that one isn't enough on here. Technically there are 3 musical interludes on the album, but let's forget those exist. Cut in after the first half of the song cuts - starting with "Peace!", and it serves the purpose of giving the album a start-to-end correlation. It would also need to be cut down towards the end.

10: Just a Beat - with a rapper

Picture that. Who'd put Rakim on an Eric B. beat? Ridiculous. I think the levity of the song would at least allow for a grand verse or two from Rakim, broken up with scratching on the start and end.

11: Follow the Leader

To me, this is the perfect end to the album. It's a fantastic song, but one which is best suited to a roaring conclusion. In the end, the listener's last impression becomes that of the duo at their peak. Somewhat different to the quiet fart that is "Beats for the Listeners".

Ok, I understand - creative decisions are a small part of an album's tracklist. Record companies will obviously prefer an album frontloaded with the album's prime cuts. For me to argue that the above would make a better album is not only a matter of opinion, but also entirely moot. Granted, telling the reader that the article is moot at the end is the written "Beats for the Listeners (For the Readers - lolz)". But the great album was in there - with this minor shuffle, I feel that the album stands up as well as Eric B. & Rakim's others.

Disagree? Let me know in the comments below. Oh hang on, nobody's reading this. Don't let me know, then. Keep it all bottled up until years later you go on a blind date and vent to them about how "Beats for the Listeners" is actually a masterpiece.

Bonus Rubbish

- The Piano part of "Put Your Hands Together" could potentially serve as the backbone of a great song in its own right. As long as the mixing was right (as in, not Rakim being drowned out), and the rest of the song was similarly grand, it could serve as a great centrepiece for the album.

- Another thing that "Follow the Leader" would've benefitted from is a thematic song. The duo's other albums always have at least one track that steps out of braggadocio, keeping things relatively fresh. "Paid in Full" had the title track, "Let the Rhythm Hit Em" had a few, and "Don't Sweat the Technique" had a couple. The closest one is "Microphone Fiend" - a brilliant track, obviously, but one that doesn't deviate from Rakim being a good rapper. Said theme would only need to be broad, but it would help make the album seem less dry and repetitive.

- There's a great history of labels forcing changes and cuts to a song in order to make it suitable for single release. So here's where the original version of "The R" comes in - quite mainstream, grander-sounding than the other tracks, and a good introduction to the group. If you buy it and are interested, the real version's on the album.

#potentiallygreatalbums #rakim #eric b and rakim #old school