#it's even more funny considering all the posting i did a few week ago about adira from discovery being like

[writingjjfics]

Pogues to the rescue!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader, Platonic!Pogues x kook!reader

Summary: JJ and the Pogues come to rescue Y/n from her Kook family party.

Warnings: Kooks

Requested?: Yes! See request here!

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Guess who's back? back again? It's moi! I apologize for how extremely long this took, life got in the way 🙂 also I did change the request a bit, and got some inspiration from the midsummers episode, hope that's okay! Oh and Sarah is not part of the Pogues for the sake of the story (not my gif)

The last few hours of your life have been a bore. You were stuck at this table with egocentric old kook people who could only talk about their 'perfect' lives and their well-succeeded grandchildren. You tried your best to show interest, but your mind kept drifting off. You nodded politely at them, and every so often, you mustered up a fake smile to make them think that you were listening to their boring stories.

When you noticed that their attention was no longer on you, which was hardly surprising considering how egocentric they all are, you quietly got up from the table and left. After quickly scanning the backyard in search of your mother, you, fortunately, spotted her in a conversation with her best friends. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you made your way inside the house to use the bathroom.

As you sat down on the toilet, you felt relieved. Not only because you could finally pee, but also after hours of miserably pretending to be anything close to a Kook, you could let your guard down here, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Taking your phone from your clutch, you check for any notifications that you might have missed in the last few hours. While scrolling through Instagram, you noticed your boyfriend had posted a video on his story. In the video, JJ was smoking his Juul, surrounded by the rest of the Pogues who were dancing and singing to some song in the background.

JJ's happy smile, as he hung out with the Pogues, made you feel a sense of joy for him. The Pogues are his true family and he deserves to be this happy and comfortable all the time. Sometimes you were jealous of their relationship. Even though your family has money and shows their love and care for you in their own, unique way, you've always felt like you don't quite fit in with them. It's as if you're the odd one out. At least the Pogues always have each other and their bond is unbreakable.

You snapped a quick selfie and sent it to JJ, showing him how extremely bored you were. After putting your phone back in your clutch bag, you let out a deep sigh, realizing you had to get back to the party before your mom would put up 'missing child' posters. However, as you reached for the door handle, you heard your ringtone go off. A picture you had taken of JJ at the beach during sunset a few weeks ago, filled your phone screen. A warm feeling spread through your chest as you answered the phone, grateful that he had taken the time to call you back.

"Party that bad, huh?", JJ chuckled as he spoke.

"If I have to listen to these fake people for a minute longer, I'll pull a van Gogh myself"

You could hear JJ snickering. "That's one way to answer that question"

"Can't you just hack into a system and send some emergency alert or something?", you whined.

"Honey, I'm definitely not as smart as Pope, but what I can do is try to sneak you away?"

"Tempting as that sounds, my mom would kill me"

"C'mon baby, we both know your mom loves her reputation too much to kill her daughter", JJ joked.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny JJ, besides I don't want to be a burden to the rest of the Pogues."

You heard JJ scoff. Since knowing JJ, you've met the Pogues a few times, yet each meeting seemed to grow more awkward than the previous one. JJ always reassures you that the rest of the Pogues just have a hard time getting comfortable around the idea that he is dating a kook, or well just kooks in general, and that it's never because of your personality. "Before you know it, they will love you as much as I do", was what he told you occasionally. But you just can't help taking it personal.

"Y/n, stop being so stubborn, and let us help you. I want you here as much as you want to leave that party. Be ready in ten. I won't take no for an answer."

You were about to protest, but before you could, the distant chatter of the other Pogues in the background went silent, indicating that JJ had already ended the call.

After giving yourself a final look in the mirror and letting out another heavy breath, you opened the door and made your way back to the party outside.

Everyone was still engrossed in conversation, and it appeared that no one noticed you had been gone. It gives you a glimmer of hope that you might be able to slip away from the party without your parents noticing. However, at the same time, you can't help but recall a few years ago when you did the same thing, only to receive a month-long grounding from them.

After nervously looking ahead for a while, and making up different scenarios in your head, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. Irritated, thinking it's one of your parents wanting to remind you to be more social, you turn around.

"You look like you could use another drink. Can I maybe offer you this one?"

In front of you stood JJ, dressed up as a waiter, holding a champagne glass. He gave you that annoying but charming smirk of his.

You took the champagne from him and chugged the entire drink, making JJ chuckle.

"Thanks, you always know exactly what I need babe"

You and JJ both laughed and you turned around looking for your parents. Your mother was still talking to her friends, while your father discussed work matters as usual.

"C'mon, let's go before my parents see us leaving". You were still nervous about the consequences, but decided that, that would be a problem for later. There's nothing you want more than to be with JJ right now.

JJ took your hand and quickly led you to the front of the house. Before reaching the gate, he suddenly stopped and gave you a kiss.

"Hi baby", he spoke softly.

You smiled. "Hi, Jay".

JJ gestured with his head towards the gate. "The others are right outside waiting for us." He squeezed your hand to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You nodded and followed him.

As you turned the corner, you saw the rest of the Pogues waiting next to the Twinkie. They were talking, but stopped abruptly when they saw the two of you approaching. Pope waved shyly towards you, while John B approached you enthusiastically. "That was quick"

"Yeah, I thought those kooks would give you more trouble", Kie said, rolling her eyes and emphasizing the words 'those kooks'. You saw Pope nudge Kiara. “Sorry, no offense to you of course”, she quickly realized her mistake. You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulder. 'Well, luckily I don't see myself as a Kook'.

There was an awkward silence until JJ cleared his throat and walked over to the Twinkie to open the door. "Let's go back to the Chateau shall we?"

You got into the back of the Twinkie first, expecting JJ to follow you, but instead, it was Kie and Pope as John B and JJ got into the front seats having their own conversation. Kie sat beside you and turned toward you.

"Hey, I want to apologize if we ever made you feel unwelcome. We just had to get used to a new person in the group, but we see how happy you make JJ and that is the most important thing for us."

"Yeah, and you're real nice and fun to hang out with Y/n", Pope added.

You smiled, "Thanks, that means a lot to me."

"And I'm actually happy there is finally a girl in this group, I love these boys but I also really need some girl time", Kiara said making everyone laugh.

You locked eyes with JJ who was already smiling and gave you a wink. A few seconds later you heard your phone go off and saw that you received a text from JJ that said "I told you they were going to love you." You rolled your eyes at him, but chuckled nonetheless. You finally felt like you belonged there.

The rest of the night was spent hanging out at the Chateau, laughing, dancing, and getting to know the Pogues better.

As for your parents, you later found out that they had tried to call you many times that night, so you ended up being grounded again, but you really couldn't care less because JJ and the Pogues were helping you through it. They would always be there for you.

aaaah the end!! so so happy I finally finished a fic again. I was busy with my graduation project and had massive writers block, but I'm back! So if you have any requests or you just want to talk to me? LMK ❤️ Okay, love you byee x

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fanfic #obx fluff #reader x platonic!pogues #poguestyle

[sturn777]

ᴛᴏᴜʀ

chris sturniolo x angelina hamilton

chapter one

ALL OTHER PARTS

sturniolo.triplets

Liked by SkylarHamilton, MattSturniolo and 583,726 others...

sturniolotriplets TOUR DATES! TICKETS GO ON SALE AUGUST 9TH 2:30 PST 5:30 EST! Excited to see you guys 🦌🦈🦇

nicksturniolo Bats on top 🦇🦇🦇

chrissturniolo 🦌

user crying from europe

-> skylarhamilton ME TOO GIRL!! 😭😭

user BUYING TICKETS RIGHT NOW?!!?!!!!!

user raaah they all look so good 😍😍😍

skylarhamilton praying to god you just randomly switch up and come to the uk 🙏🙏🙏

-> sturniolotriplets Another time maybe 🤷‍♂️

-> skylarhamilton SCREAMING WHAT

-> skylarhamilton NICK PLS BE YOU I LOVE YOU 💕💖💗💞

-> nicksturniolo Love you more!!

-> skylarhamilton I DIED.

user Y'ALL IM SO EXCITED

user THRE CMIS TO MY CIY WTF OMG IM ROLNG ONIUA  TE FLOOR I CAT BREATHE HELp

-> mattsturniolo Lmao me too

user WHY ARE THE TRIPLETS SO CASUAL LMAOO ITS SCARY

user id beg my mom to go but she just wouldn’t let me 🥲🥲👎

user THE TICKETS ARE BOUGHT

mattsturniolo See y'all there 👋👋

Skylar Hamiltons birthday had been hectic already and it was only lunch time. First of all Skylar had woken up way before Angelina which was unplanned as Angelina had saved the decorations for the morning, the girls cake hadn't been finished by the bakery, some of her presents still hadn't come in the mail and most of the teenagers friends hadn't knocked at the door to join her party.

Angelina had tried her very best to make do with what they had. Turning blowing balloons up into a 'party game', picking up a cake that didn't fit the theme from the stores instead, and was currently trying her best to make a fun party even though only three out of the twelve girls invited had shown up.

What annoyed the siblings was that they had notice. It wasn't like it was a rushed invitation that had been handed out at the start of the week. No, in-fact they had invited people at least two months before to know what to prepare for, the girls who hadn't shown up had been in the group-chat that was made and were seemingly excited about it all.

But what pissed off Angelina more than it did Skylar, was that the girls who didn't show up were hanging out together and posting it on their public stories on every possible social media account possible. Lord knows she was damn near pulling up and screaming in their faces, but she kept herself calm.

So Angelina sat on the sofa and watched Skylar and her three friends; Jess, Sophia and Charlie. They were currently playing a stupid game one of them had bought over. It was some type of card game that had them rolling on the floor in laughter, so Angelina couldn't complain.

All she was waiting for now was the doorbell to ring. Her phone sat on her thigh, refreshing her texts every few seconds (sometimes minutes as she would zone out or get distracted by the teenagers in-front of her).

Once the doorbell rang she would be able to collect Skylars main present, the one she had bought not too long ago after doing quite a lot of research after the teenagers ramble in the kitchen one morning a few weeks ago.

"That's not even funny! I'm just— I'm—!" A cackle tuned itself in too Angelinas ears. Jess was struggling to catch a breath whilst speaking, Skylar and Sophia were both laid back on the carpeted floor with their hands on their stomach. The sound of laughter not even escaping their mouths as they were laughing that hard. Angelina smiled to herself, snapping a few pictures of the three that she would make sure to send to them all like she had been doing all night.

The TV played quietly behind them, a youtube video playing of the brothers their car, discussing something random topic each time Angelina would pass by. Skylar seemed to enjoy their channel a lot, along with the friends sat in the living room, and Angelina didn't really watch any youtube at all so she was open to anything. She would consider herself a 'fan' but not like the type she's seen occasionally on her for you page.

The dark skinned girl snapped out of her thoughts as the doorbell rung, the teenagers in-front of her not even noticing in the midst of their fit of laughter. Angelina stood up and walked towards the door where her friend, Maya, stood behind the wood.

Maya smiled towards Angelina, "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm good you? You have the thing?"

"Yeah I'm good, and of course." Maya smiled towards the dark skinned girl. Lifting the small, sealed envelope that was sat in her hand. "I would stay but I gotta run, tell Skye I said happy birthday!"

Angelina nodded with a smile, shouting a 'thanks' as the girl walked back towards her car, shutting the door and moving back into the living room. The group of teenagers were now sat on the sofas, the TV's volume turned up slightly as they were all focused on the current video playing.

Charlie looked up as Angelina walked in, "Hey, where'd you go?”

"Got something for the birthday girl." Angelina smiled, gently chucking the envelope onto her sisters lap which caused Skylar's eyes to drift downwards and her eyebrows to raise.

"What is it?" Skylar questioned, Angelina only shrugging in response and plopping herself down on the other sofa. Sophia and Charlie only smiled as they encouraged the girl to open the envelope quicker.

Inside the envelope was a small sheet of paper, small graphics decorating it. "Read it out then!" Sophia sighed, nudging Skylar in the ribs. Skylar only beamed a bright smile after skimming through the note.

"Dear Skylar, you are invited to the Sturniolo triplets verses tour in Orlando Florida on the eighteenth of October. Unluckily for you, your sister will be joining you but I hope you have a good time. Your flight leaves in three days, get packing."

The four girls squealed all together, jumping up and down in a small group huddle. Skylar separating herself from the other three and jumping onto Angelina, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome Skye, just know you're doing the dishes for three days."

tags: @st7rnioioss @its-jennarose @timmyscomputer @kriissy4gov @liz-stxrn @sunrisemill @mattssluttywaist @riasturns @mx0qin @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @mattslolita @ariieeesworld @alorsxsturn @nonameisthegameandilovejake

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #jake webber x reader #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #get to know me #masterlist #matt #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #original character #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #verses #uk #fanfic

[zoeysdamn]

Bloodied petals - Xavier Thorpe x reader | Part.4

Summary: You remember memories of your childhood with Xavier, hoping to get some courage from it to talk things out with him. Wednesday starts to suspect something, and Principal Weems isn't happy with either of you.

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, underage drinking, swearing. IMPORTANT: the last part of the taglist had made my tumblr bug so hard so it didn't work, I'm sorry for those who hadn't received a notification while being tagged. If the problem continues for further parts, I'll consider deleting the taglist bc fuck I just lost 40 minutes re-editing this chapter 3 times before finally achieving to post it

[Masterlist] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3]

Xavier had been your first kiss. You doubted he remembered it but you definitely did. When your aunt had dropped you at the Thorpe manor for the first time, you were just turning 6 and had that funny haircut that almost hid your eyes. Your aunt Cordelia wasn’t so fond of this hairstyle, but things had been hard for you since your mom’s passing less than six months ago; taking care of the birdnest you were calling hair could wait for the situation to settle down. 

Aunt Cordelia had explained to you that you were going to live with a dear friend of hers for some time because she couldn’t take you with her to an upcoming witch congress on the other side of the world. Couldn’t or wouldn’t you didn’t know, to you the only thing that mattered was that you were going to a foreign place, and your mom wasn’t here anymore to comfort you. 

“You’ll be fine here,” had assured your aunt while your luggage was taken out of a car by the butler. 

“Can’t I come with you?” you had asked again with a wobbling lip and watery eyes. 

“You know you can’t pumpkin,” said Aunt Cordelia. “Mr.Thorpe has a son about your age, I’m sure you’ll become friends very fast.” 

And just like that, she left, and you found yourself alone in a manor you didn’t know. 

Mr.Thorpe had been intimidating but the good thing was he hadn’t more time for you than your aunt did, and as soon he introduced himself to you he left too. So you had fled to your new room and hidden in the closet to cry. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t even want to be raised by Aunt Cordelia ; you wanted your mom, but that was impossible now. 

Then, you had heard the creak of the closet’s door being opened and you had timidly peaked up from behind your hand. A little boy was crouching down to your level, looking at you curiously with his big hazel eyes. 

“Why are you sad?” he had asked with his childish voice. 

Taken aback by his question, you had wiped the tears on your cheeks, “I’m not sad, I’m just lonely.” 

He had looked at you curiously; then he had raised his little hand to brush away the hair that was obstructing your face. The gesture had made you flinch a bit, but he was gentle and somehow, you had felt like you could trust this boy. He had beamed, exposing the gap left by a missing tooth. 

“You have pretty eyes!” he had exclaimed. 

“Thanks?” you had said unsure, still sniffling. 

He nodded vigorously, his smile plastered on his chubby face. Then he extended his hand to you. “Wanna get out of here? I know where the cookies are hidden, we can search for them together, it’ll be fun!” 

This brought a small smile to your face for the first time in weeks, and you had taken his hand. Within the next few days, you had your hair cut. That’s how you met Xavier Thorpe. 

From there, your friendship bloomed. Aunt Cordelia tried to spend at least six months a year with you, and you lived at her house for that time. Well, she tried, and sometimes you found yourself dropped by the Thorpe manor more than intended. This didn’t bother you, you enjoyed Xavier’s company, and you were best friends after all. And considering his own father was also absent frequently, he loved when you were there. When you turned 12, your aunt brought you along on her trips to make a sort of pilgrimage around all the important sites of witchcraft around the world. According to her, it was time for you to learn more about your history and soak up their energy. The trip was so long, you didn’t see Xavier for two whole years. And when you came back to the Thorpe manor at 14, the both of you had changed a lot. Gone was the little boy with scraped knees and round cheeks, the teenager you met at the door was lanky and definitely taller than you now. 

“Hey,” he had greeted you with a lopsided grin. The twinkle in his eyes though hadn’t changed the slightest. 

“Hi,” you had smiled back. “You’ve let your hair grow,” you noticed. 

“You lost the braces,” he counter-attacked, not losing his smile for a second. 

He opened his arms and you didn’t lose a breath before diving into the hug. Oh, you had missed him. You had thought that everything would be like usual, but since puberty, you definitely noticed that things had indeed changed between you two. Your aunt asked a little more about Xavier when you went home, and you didn’t look at him the same way. He was more…attractive somehow; you loved the long hair. The same week you came back, the two of you went to a party with some of his friends from the normie school he went to. This wasn’t the first time any of you had alcohol, but it definitely was the first time you got drunk. A silly game was suggested and in your already advanced tipsy state, you and Xavier had thought this would be fun. You remembered vaguely the rules being to spin a bottle and then kiss someone or drink to avoid it, or something. To be honest most of your memories of that night were kind of blurry ; but when the bottle had pointed in your direction and your eyes had met Xavier’s, you distinctly remember your heart missing a beat. Maybe you had thought about protesting or something, maybe your mind had been too cloudy to properly ponder whether or not you should do this. It didn’t matter, because the next thing you knew then, Xavier had leaned to you and had pressed his lips against yours. That’s how you got your first kiss, by kissing your best friend during a drinking game. 

The next day the hangover had been so hard, Xavier didn’t remember half of the previous evening, not even your kiss. But you definitely did. Over the years you had forced yourself to push it down, thinking it was only a silly teenagers game and that you shouldn’t get too excited about this. 

Thinking about this now, you thought that you had been in love with Xavier for far longer than you imagined. You should have seen it coming, and yet here you were, with flowers slowly growing in your lungs because of your feelings. 

You were wandering in Jericho as the other Nevermore students were dispatched in different areas for Outreach day. Principal Weems had reminded you that everyone’s presence was requested for the inauguration ceremony at the end of the day – that yes, even you miss L/N are to attend this. Then she had let you free for the remainder of the day, and you were glad she did. You had a few things to buy at Jericho, this could be the occasion. But while you were making your purchases you were starting to realize that you were only postponing the moment when you’ll eventually have to talk with Xavier. 

He had left the Nightshades’ crypt quite upset, it pained you even more to know that he was mad at you. You needed to fix this and fast. So you ended up pushing the Weathervane’s doors  open, eyes searching for familiar hazel hair. Enid had texted you where Xavier had the displeasure of working that day and reading the coffee shop's name had made you wince. Hopefully, Tyler won't be working today. 

“Hey L/N,” you heard from the counter and you cursed internally. Turning to the counter, you narrowed your eyes at the curly-haired boy. 

“Galpin,” you greeted him half-heartedly as you came closer. Ever since what he and his friends had done to Xavier on last year’s Outreach day, you despised him. 

“Do you, uh, want to order something?” he asked. 

God, the way he acted all innocent and kind made you want to punch him in the face. On any other day you probably would have, but right now you were just drained. 

“Sure,” you finally let out, “I’ll have a large cappuccino with two shots of espresso, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said before starting to make your order, and you find a seat next to the window. 

For a moment, you put your face in your hands like it would give you some peace for a while. Everything had escalated so quickly, you didn’t even know if there was going to be an actual end to all of this. 

The sound of a mug being dropped in front of you on the table made you look up, and the sight of Xavier surprised you. 

“Tyler mentioned that you had ordered something,” he explained to your surprised expression. 

Glancing to the boy awkwardly standing behind the counter, who tried to look like he was busy and not looking at the two of you, you gave him the slightest nod of the head as a thanks. Xavier sat on the opposite bench, arms plopped on the table nervously. 

“Look I–”

“There’s something–” you both started at the same time. It made you chuckle nervously, “Go on,” you pressed him gently. 

He passed a hand through his hair nervously, “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick yesterday, okay?”. The guilt in his eyes was evident and you were relieved to hear that he had calmed down. “I shouldn’t have called you a liar.”

“No, that’s on me,” you muttered, playing with the still untouched mug. “I’m…not feeling well these days,” you finally admitted. 

Xavier’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. To his knowledge, you never had any serious health issues. The flu once in a while maybe, but nothing that sounded that bad. He leaned closer to you over the table, a serious look on his face. 

“What’s going on?” he asked in a hushed, yet gentle voice. 

Suddenly, all the courage you had built up vanished. You had been so confident that you were going to tell Xavier everything, that this was the only way of making things right. You felt like you owed him that, after all, he had everything to do with your condition. 

But as you were about to expose the truth to him…something stopped you. 

The feeling of a warm hand on your trembling ones made you snap back to reality. Xavier’s face was fully painted in worry now. 

“You okay?” he asked. “You zoned out for a second.” 

You nodded slowly, gulping. No need to lie to yourself, you knew exactly what was stopping you from telling Xavier everything. The fear of losing him. Deep down you were afraid that if you told him about the Hanahaki disease, and what – who – caused it, he would end up leaving you. And you were far more afraid of losing Xavier than you were of coughing flowers. Because without Xavier, you feared that you'd end up alone again. And you never wanted to ever feel like that again. 

Licking your lips, you wondered what you should say to him. So you lied again. 

“I’m ill,” you blurted out. “I got sick around a week ago, that’s why I’ve been so distant lately.”

Technically, you weren’t really lying to him. It had been more than a week since the first symptoms, but the rest was true. You simply choose…not to disclose everything. 

“Shit,” he swore under his breath, “are you feeling okay? What is it?”

“I’m fine,” you squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I had no idea of what it was until recently so…”

“Is this serious?” he inquired again. 

Flashes of the pages mentioning the inevitable death of patients appeared in your mind. 

“No,” you finally let out. “I’ll get better at some point I’m sure. Bought a few things to make a potion to ease the symptoms.” 

Xavier glanced at your bag and nodded. Whether or not he believed you, he didn’t press the matter further. 

“I should have been honest with you sooner, it’s just…it had been a couple of rough weeks,” you said with a weak smile. 

He nodded in understanding, still you could see he was still worried about you. “Yeah, I get it…between that, Wednesday's arrival and the whole monster thing it had been a little bit crazy, right?”

You slightly frowned at him. It wasn’t it, he was misreading the situation completely! As you were about to say something, you suddenly became very aware of faint whispers around you. So did Xavier apparently because the two of you whipped your heads around at the same time. Glancing behind your shoulder you noticed a group of normies teenagers throwing glances at you, whispering and giggling among themselves. Some of their words reached your ears.

“...think…’re together?...”

“maybe…freaks…from Neverm…”

“...kinda cute…couple…”

You felt your face burn. Not in shame, but for the first time in the possibility of what it implied. Many people had mistaken Xavier and you as a couple before, but it was the first time you truly felt flustered by the idea of it. 

Then Xavier pulled his hand off of yours and the sudden loss of contact made your heart drop. He sank into his seat further, putting more distance between the two of you. Eyes flickering to him in disbelief, you only met his sorry expression. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he muttered while casting his eyes away. 

You wanted to protest, to say that it didn’t make you uncomfortable at all, but words were stuck in your throat. As were petals. 

“I should probably go back to work,” said Xavier while getting up. “But I’ll finish in an hour, if you want to wait?”

“Sure,” you mumbled. 

Tears started to burn behind your eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. The light ring of the doorbell made both of your heads turn to Wednesday who had just arrived. Her sole presence, usually not unwelcomed, was dreadful to you and you felt like you were becoming lightheaded. The burning inside your chest bloomed and the whole coffee shop felt suffocating. Raising from your seat abruptly you gathered your bag and vest without a word. 

“Where are you doing?” asked Xavier lightly touching your shoulder. 

“I’m- I’m not feeling well,” you excused yourself, which made Wednesday raise her eyebrow as she came to your side. “I need some air.” Feeling Xavier’s worried eyes on your back you squeezed the hand on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?” you whispered to him. 

He seemed to hesitate, but between your pleading eyes and the intense bored expression on Wednesday’s face, he finally conceded. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll see you later.”

You smiled weakly at him before rushing to the exit, head low. Walking rapidly through the streets you hurried until you found an empty alley which you immediately rushed into before throwing up in a garbage can. The flowers and blood mixed together regurgitated from your sore throat, as quickly as they had appeared within your chest. Tears flooded down your cheeks as the last petals left your mouth. Coughing fits were getting more and more unpredictable. You choked on your own breath, mouth tasting bitter and throat ablaze. If you didn’t do something real quick, you were going to die. But for now, you just felt so, so tired. Weems and the inaugural ceremony be damned, you were going back to Nevermore to sleep your problems away. Then, you’ll take it from here. 

In the end, returning to the school to sleep and avoid facing your problems gave you more problems. A few hours later you were standing in Principal Weems’ office alongside Wednesday, getting a lecture about setting Crackstone’s statue on fire. 

“For the hundredth time, I didn’t set fire to that statue!” you pleaded to the principal. 

“And what evidence of your innocence do you have, miss L/N?” snapped Weems back. “Should you have attended the ceremony like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t have this conversation.” 

“I attended this ridiculous ceremony,” noted Wednesday out loud, “yet you’re suspecting me too.” 

She shot a deadly glare at your impassable roommate, “And I have every reason to miss Addams. The two of you had good motives to set this statue on fire, and miss L/N had mysteriously disappeared just before the ceremony.” 

“I wasn’t feeling well that’s all,” you tried to defend yourself. “Do you really think I’d brand myself a witch in front of all of Jericho? Those people hate my guts, I don’t want to have anything to do with their shitty town!” 

Weem’s hand hit her desk with force, “Mind your language, young lady!”

Wednesday only rolled her eyes at the whole ordeal. You on the other hand, were pretty sure she had something to do with it – but unlike you she had a solid alibi. And surprisingly, she stepped in your defense. 

“Y/N is right about not feeling well these days,” she interjected, making both Weems’ head and yours snap to her. “She sometimes coughs in her sleep, this is very unpleasant.”

Principal Weems narrowed her eyes at you, “Is that true, miss L/N? Have you fallen ill?”

You nodded slowly, “Just small flu. Must’ve caught a cold during the Poe cup.” 

The principal looked pointedly at the two of you, breathing hard through her nostril. Then she threw an accusatory finger at your pair.

“I want,” she articulated slowly, “the two of you out of my office. Now. And I don’t want to ever hear about you either.” 

None of you needed to be asked twice. Once in the corridors and far enough from Weems’ office, you turned to Wednesday. 

“Thank you for having my back with Weems,” you said quietly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“No I didn’t,” she repeated. “I was right, you do cough at night and it is unpleasant.” 

That made you frown slightly. None of your roommates shouldn’t have been able to hear you, you still casted the silencing spell every night. 

“Since when?” 

“About a week,” she said, while narrowing her eyes. 

You started to think hard. It had been far more than a week since you had started to cast the spell. This was basic magic, a simple but efficient spell that you had been practising for years. There was no reason for you to fail it. The only logical explanation…was that your magic was weakening. The natural reaction for your mind would be to list every reason for it not to be possible, but then you thought about the sudden stop of your spell during the Poe cup, which had made your boat stop dead in its tracks; and so it added up. The disease had not only damaged your body, but it had also consequences on your powers. This was definitely concerning. 

“You are indeed sick, aren’t you?” asked Wednesday. At the surprised look on your face, she quickly added, “Don’t think I care, I’m just readjusting your position on my suspects' list by considering all the parameters.”

You scoffed in disbelief “I’m on your suspect list? No shit, Wednesday?”

“It is perfectly plausible,” she said plainly. “With your powers and knowledge in potions, you have the ability to increase your strength I suspect, and you know the school’s grounds by heart,” you heard her listing, “you’ve spent more time alone than usual for the past weeks, with no one to testify of your presence elsewhere than on the crime scenes, and when I started to suspect Xavier you immediately fled to his defence without proof, like you knew for sure he couldn’t be the monster. So tell me Y/N,” she continued while looking at you dead in the eye, “why couldn’t you be the killer?” 

Struck by her question you could only blink in disbelief. What. the. hell? 

“Excuse me what?” you articulated after long seconds of silence. 

“You should be honored,” she said flatly, “it requires some skills to be added to a potential suspect list.” 

“I don’t want to be on a fucking suspect list,” you spat, “you’re delusional Wednesday.” 

“My observations and suppositions are rarely wrong, I’m not the one burying herself in denial.”

Stepping closer to her you gritted your teeth together. “I can’t be the monster, I literally can’t.” 

“What proof do you have of that?” she retorted. 

Fuming, you tried to not play her game. But staying calm in front of her insolent lay back behavior was starting to be incredibly harder. “Drop it,” you spat. 

“You’re just proving me right.”

That’s when you lost it, “I CAN’T BECAUSE I’M FUCKING DYING OKAY?” you roared at her. 

For a moment, nothing but echoes of your words resonated within the corridor’s walls. Your ragged breaths contrasted with Wednesday’s neutral expression, unfazed by your scream. Only after a few seconds of a mortifying silence did you realize what you just did because you had lost your nerves. Shutting your eyes tightly you internally prayed that no one around heard you. 

“I don’t think you’re lying,” simply said Wednesday. 

You let out a scoff, “I’m not, trust me. I’m sick, and my health is deteriorating every day. If you don’t want to believe me that’s fine but leave me the fuck out of your stupid list.” 

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at you, “Until you’re blessed with black plague, I doubt you’ll die because of whatever sickness you have.”

“God, can you stop being that infuriating for once?” you snapped bitterly. “I’ve done every possible research on the subject and I know I’m doomed, okay?” 

A silence took place between the two of you. You whipped away tears that had gathered at the corner of your eyes. It was the first time you had admitted it out loud ; it hurt more than you thought. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your condition,” said Wednesday quietly ; and now matter how surprised you were by her words, you still thanked her quietly. “Does a cure exist?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you muttered. “It…healing doesn’t depend on me.” At her frown, you lightly shrugged. “Flowers are growing in my lungs because of unrequited romantic feelings,” you explained quietly. “Eventually, I’ll either die from internal bleeding or choking.” 

This time, it was her turn to scoff, “You’re plagued with a deadly disease because you have feelings for someone? You just gave me the final proof that feelings are indeed useless, thank you.”

“I don’t fucking need your sarcasm,” you seethed, “if you want to be a stone-cold bitch that’s on you, but no need to mock me for having actual feelings. I didn’t choose this.” 

She looked at you closely, like she was trying to figure out something. Which she apparently did rather quickly: “It’s Xavier, isn’t it? He’s the one you have…feelings for.” 

You turned your face away, licking your lips. Wednesday was really the last person you wanted to have this conservation with. 

“You’re getting weak and you’re losing your powers because you have feelings for a meaningless man,” she repeated. “I thought you were better than that.”

“Fuck off Wednesday,” you cried, finally reaching your breaking point. “I’m not asking to understand, I’m not even asking you to be compassionate but shit, for once in your life be respectful of someone’s privacy.”

With that, you turned away and rushed into the corridors. You didn’t want to hate Wednesday, she had done nothing to you ; even regarding Xavier’s feelings, you were confident that her arrival hadn’t triggered your condition. Maybe it had accelerated it, but sooner or later Xavier would have fallen in love with someone else, and you would have been doomed anyway. So yeah, you didn’t want to hate Wednesday Addams ; but she definitely didn’t make things easy. 

A little less than an hour later, you found yourself walking through the school’s woods. The heated discussion with Wednesday had strangely given you enough courage to go and find Xavier, and finally explain everything to him. Weakened by your feelings? My ass! you thought. You were going to tell what was going on with you to Xavier, and to hell with the consequences on your friendship. 

You soon reached his artist shed in the middle of the woods. Its reassuring aura made you a little more at ease than the very public space of the Weathervane. Knocking on the door, you waited for Xavier to answer you. When he opened the door, you let out a loud gasp at the wound on his neck. 

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” you asked while pushing him back inside immediately before coming in. You immediately went to take a look at his bleeding jaw, carefully tilting his chin to the side. 

“Just an accident with a painting, nothing too bad,” he tried to reassure you. 

“Nothing bad? Xavier, you have claw marks bleeding on your neck, this isn’t some small scratch!” 

You could see that he was trying to brush it away, but you forced him to sit on a stool while you inspected the extent of his injuries. It didn’t look so bad, you could probably do something about it. Carefully dragging your fingers on the outlines of the claw marks you whispered a healing spell. The bleeding gradually stopped, and the cells of the skin started to slowly repair themselves. Though it started here, and the marks were still here looking like fresh scars. You gritted your teeth in frustration. With the full extent of your powers, you could have probably healed him completely. 

“That should do,” you muttered with a small smile. 

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “So,” he said after a few seconds of silence, “guess we need to talk, uh?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckled awkwardly, “guess we do.”

You fidgeted with your sleeve, toying with words in your mind. It was always more difficult to launch a subject when the time had come. 

“I’m not doing well,” you said, trying to resume the discussion where it had been left out back at the Weathervane, “and I’m not sure if I can really get better…on my own.”

Xavier leaned forward, fully focused on the matter. “How can I help you?”

You almost wanted to cry. He wanted so much to help you while having no idea of how bad the situation was. 

“This is…kind of complicated to talk about,” you hesitated. But to your surprise, Xavier gently took your hand into one of his bigger ones. 

“Hey,” he called softly, “you know you can tell me anything, right?” 

After a slight hesitation, you nodded slowly. Yet words didn’t seem to come out of your mouth. You started to open your mouth to finally confess, but something caught your eye. A large canvas hung on an easel, all in black and white tones. Like pulled by the invisible force of curiosity you slowly approached it, your hand slipping away from Xavier’s. As you approached and noticed who was painted you felt your heart sink into your chest. The painted figure of Wednesday playing her cello was taunting you, and it painfully reminded you of that night in Xavier’s room, when he had started to sketch it. It reminded you that you had no chance. 

Xavier called out for you from behind. But when you turned back to him, he was met with the look of your teary eyes. 

“You see, that’s why I can’t tell you,” you whispered sadly, “I can’t spoil this from you.” 

“What are you talking about?” he frowned. 

“This,” you said, gesturing at the portrait, “I can’t ruin your happiness with my burden, Xav.”

“Y/N please,” he said getting up, “please tell me what’s going on.” 

You shook your head, defeated. “I can’t,” you whispered weakly. “Sorry I- I got to go.” 

Before Xavier could react you slipped away and rushed outside of the shed. Tears were running down your cheeks but you couldn’t care less. It was clear that you could never interfere in Xavier’s feelings for Wednesday, so why bother saying anything to him at all? You heard him call you as soon as you had crossed the door but you didn’t dare to turn back and face him. He managed to grab your wrist when you were barely a few meters away from the shed. 

“Please don’t shut me out,” he begged you. You still couldn’t face him on your own, so he gently tucked on your hand, turning you to him. “Please Y/N, tell me what’s going on with you, ‘cause I can guess on my own.” 

Hesitantly, you looked up at him. Even though your eyes were blurry because of tears, you couldn’t help yourself but lose yourself in the admiration of his face. His brown eyes, so deep and full of compassion, his sharp features framed by soft hazel eyes…you wanted to print this image in your mind for however long you had still to live. Just like that night in his room, your eyes flickered to his lips. This time you didn’t hesitate, and you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. 

He flinched slightly, for the first second. But then he surprised himself thinking how soft your lips felt against his own. 

You stayed like this for long seconds. Keeping your eyes closed and savouring the moment, you then realized that Xavier wasn’t moving at all. Biting back the bitter feeling within your guts, you slowly parted from him. Xavier simply stood up there frozen in place ; not understanding why you had kissed him so suddenly. At his lack of reaction and dumbfounded expression, you wanted to cry again so badly. Instead, you looked up at him.  

“I wanted to do that at least once,” you whispered. No matter how you had tried to keep them at bay, tears were flooding down your cheeks now. 

Still stuck down in place, Xavier didn’t know what to say. But the face of his best friend, teared apart by pain and sadness, was already too much to handle for him. 

“I- I’m sorry Y/N,” he muttered, “I don’t…I like you, I truly do but…but not like this.” 

Through your tears, you tried to smile ; it was a pathetic attempt. “Yeah…I know,” you whispered weakly.

It would have been easier if you had the ability to vanish away on the spot. It would have made you avoid moving away from Xavier and returning to the school painfully slowly, each of your steps burdened by the weight of your broken heart and the knowledge that Xavier hadn’t even tried to stop you. It would also have saved you from running into Wednesday once again, and hearing her asking Xavier out for the ball in the distance. It would have. 

But you couldn’t vanish, instead, you were here shedding every tear you had along bloodied flowers, not even trying to stop either of them. 

You just had your heart shattered into a million pieces and the confirmation that there was no hope for you. You were doomed, and the flowers growing inside of your lungs would soon reach your body’s breaking point.

[Part.5] 

A/N:  Thanks everyone for your incredible support, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥

Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist: 

(no need to ask at every chapter, you're added once, and you're added for the whole fic :D)

@apocalypticnovaa ; @libdarkheart ; @ameliabs-world ; @certifeidlovergirl ; @aeisnoa ; @cat-loves-music ; @coolchick333 ; @eringaitskill  ; @sweaterxav ; @sssleepless ;

@l4venderia ; @persipeoni ; @coldheartedmar ; @chaosfrisur ; @littlebabyk  ; @pinksirensong ; @nushy ; @raribella ; @igotanidea ; @ali-r3n ;

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Usernames not found by Tumblr and notified by DM:

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Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe angst #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday #wednesday addams #reader insert #hanahaki disease #no beta we die like men

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch5

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]

[ao3 version]

notes: I privated my ao3 account so that only registered users can see it... since all the ai stuff has been going on and I'd rather be safe than sorry.... I'm not sure how many ppl follow with the series here on Tumblr, but I figured I'd post it here too, in case any of you don’t have an ao3 account... [I posted this a bit ago on ao3, so apologies for the tardiness]

the gif above is so funny. the lil head tilt is killing me, idk. 

warnings: panic attack, self harm (digging nails into skin), franklyn having zero boundaries

You’re in Hannibal’s home again. You really need to have more self-preservation—you’re practically a gift-wrapped murder victim here. Although, he hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you’ll be fine. Perhaps you aren’t as rude as you thought you were. The thought amuses you.

Inexplicably, as you’re speaking with Hannibal, he asks you to accompany him to the opera. The request is so unexpected that it takes you several moments to realize you heard him correctly. Hannibal stares at you expectantly and you take a deep breath.

“You realize I don’t know the first thing about opera,” you remark apprehensively. “Surely there are far better choices than me.” Doesn’t he have acquaintances that are more suited for this type of outing? You’re certain you would look extremely out of place amidst the typical visitors. Surely, Hannibal knows that he will put his reputation at risk by bringing you along. You try to convey those sentiments in the eye contact you’re currently maintaining with the man, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded in the slightest.

“You are my friend and I want to spend time with you,” Hannibal states easily. You envy his ability to be so straightforward with his thoughts and feelings. “Is that really so strange?”

“I suppose not,” you frown. Fond of breaking doctor-patient boundaries, are we, Dr. Lecter? You dispel the thought. Admittedly, from the first moment you interacted with Hannibal, you knew he would be more than a psychiatrist. You’re happy to consider him a close friend now.

“Are you amenable?” Hannibal then asks, just before you can zone out and lose focus.

“When is it?” You ask, despite knowing that you don’t have much going on this week anyway.

“Tomorrow night,” Hannibal answers. You raise an eyebrow.

“Rather late notice,” you say, if only to make him sweat a bit. Of course, Hannibal’s perfectly crafted mask remains in place. “Did your date cancel on you?” Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. You decide to take pity on him and stop messing around.

“I’m just kidding,” you interject with a grin. It’s kind of fun to see how much you can push Hannibal around. You get the feeling that no one really questions him. It’s amusing to see him scramble for an explanation, even though the effort is perfectly rehearsed. “I think I’m free; I’d love to go. You just may have to deal with my complete ignorance when it comes to opera music.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Hannibal smiles. Is he playing along? You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting that. It’s nice to know that Hannibal can take a joke. 

“Anyway, thank you for inviting me into your home again; I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal says with a shake of his head, as if the very thought is ludicrous.

“I invited you.” Hannibal then excuses himself for a moment and you take the opportunity to look around his kitchen. You suppress the extremely compelling urge to look through his drawers—you know what you’ll find and you’re certain you don’t want to see it. Instead, you let your eyes rove over the polished cabinets and clean counters. Just before you can lose interest, your gaze falls on the rolodex. Interest peaking, you decide to walk towards it.

It appears the rolodex holds business cards of people Hannibal has met. You idly flip through the rolodex, needing something to occupy your restless hands. A few of the names are (unsurprisingly) ones you recognize. It takes you a few moments of observation to realize just what purpose this rolodex serves. It appears this is a list of potential murder victims. Flipping through the various business cards, you don’t see a common denominator. “Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude,” Hannibal had told you once. On second thought, these business cards are probably people that Hannibal has determined to be rude. You go through the names with renewed interest. A few of them are rather fancy. One even looks remarkably close to yours. You move to the next one before a breath catches in your chest and you find yourself returning to the one that caught your eye.

The business card is extremely similar to yours—same color and font. You squint at it, heart racing in your chest as you look at the name written on it. It must be another government agent, surely. You all have similar, standard-issue business cards. You just hope it isn’t any of your acquaintances. You’re expecting to see anyone from Jack Crawford to Alana Bloom. You close your eyes for a moment, before finally giving in and reading the name. It’s… It’s your name.

You stare at the card in disbelief. Where did Hannibal get your business card? It has your name, phone number, email address… It even has your office location at headquarters. You swallow past the trepidation building in your core. You can’t quite stop the choked laugh that escapes your lips. You let your guard down. You had foolishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. You let your guard down and, now, your name rests amidst the names of current and future Ripper victims.

“Is everything alright?” The timing could not be worse. Hannibal walks in as you’re looking at the rolodex and you quickly turn around, trying to shield it from his view. You’re not sure what expression is on your face, but it must be suitably harrowed, because his face twists in concern—mock concern, your mind supplies. “You look rather shaken.”

“Yes, of course,” you answer. It takes every ounce of practice you’ve accumulated to keep the fear from your voice. You sound slightly flat, but you’re convinced that you’ve mostly concealed your true feelings. “Apologies, Dr. Lecter. I think I’d better get going.”

You can tell that Hannibal is suspicious, but you don’t give him the chance to ask you about it—instead deigning to murmur a quick goodbye and walk out to your car. You’re infinitely grateful that you had the foresight to drive yourself. You’re not sure that you would’ve had the energy to maintain your composure in Hannibal’s company.

You wait until you’re a sufficient distance from Hannibal’s home to sag in your seat and sigh heavily. You’d been growing too big of an ego. Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. The two of you are friends and you foolishly assumed that your friendship gave you immunity. Clearly, that isn’t the case. You need to remember yourself, remember that the composed dinner host you often sit across from is a practiced killer. One false move and you’re dead. Once you get home, you spend the remainder of the evening in an anxious and paranoid haze. It takes you a while to fall asleep that night and, when you do, the Ripper follows you into your dreams.

The next morning, you receive a text from Hannibal—which includes the details of the opera and what time he plans to pick you up. It takes you several moments to ground yourself in reality and remember that Hannibal isn’t aware of your knowledge that he’s the Ripper. Once you collect your composure, you insist that you can drive yourself—but he waves off the suggestion and maintains that he’ll drive. Admittedly, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t have the slightest clue what to wear. You’ve never really been to an opera performance before, and you can only imagine what the people in attendance will be wearing. You have no idea where to begin searching for an outfit. Your closet isn’t exactly the best.

Eventually, you swallow your pride and text Hannibal. He knows you’re not sophisticated, you think to yourself. Asking him for help isn’t that embarrassing. In fact, you’d rather ask and lose a bit of dignity than try to puzzle it out on your own [and fail miserably.] Hannibal is quick to respond—almost as if he had been expecting the question—and says that he’ll bring clothes for you. You immediately have several objections to that, but they fall on determined ears. You regret asking, now.

A few hours later, there’s a quiet knock on your door. You open the door to find Hannibal waiting on your doorstep, folded clothing in hand. You shake your head in exasperation and let him in. “Thank you,” you say, taking the clothes he’s extending out to you. You still feel the need to try to argue one more time. “I could’ve found something on my own.”

Hannibal looks you up and down, in a manner that makes you feel extremely self conscious. You aren’t exactly wearing the fanciest clothing right now, but that’s only because you knew you’d be changing. “Doubtful,” Hannibal remarks. You glare at him, only to find his lips twisted in that slightly amused smirk. You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to change,” You then realize that this is the first time that Hannibal has been in your home. He’s driven you many times, but he’s never gotten out of the car before. “Feel free to explore, I guess.” You’re struck with the sudden mundane feeling of shame, as you recognize how much less luxurious your home is. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he starts to walk around and look at things. Meanwhile, you head to the bathroom.

Once you place the clothes on the bathroom counter, you’re once again realizing that you’re out of your depth. The outfit he’s given you is extremely lavish: an extravagant suit with dress pants. Upon further examination, you realize that he even gave you an undershirt. You push aside all the strange, conflicting feelings you have about sharing clothes with your psychiatrist. Unsurprisingly, the clothes smell very strongly of Hannibal’s cologne. It takes all of your resistance not to cough once you put them on. You’re not very fond of fragrances to begin with, since they often give you headaches. But, you know you have no right to complain. It was extremely generous of Hannibal to lend you clothing, and you don’t plan to disrespect the gesture by complaining about his cologne. You put on the rest of the clothing and assess yourself in the mirror. You look rather good, you have to admit. Of course, it’s all due to Hannibal’s clothing. You take a moment to brush your teeth again before walking back out into the main area of the house, where Hannibal seems to be looking at your decorations with a keen eye. He turns around upon hearing you enter and, for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence.

Inexplicably, Hannibal breaks the distance between you and reaches out. Your heart is racing in your chest but you manage to remain still. He fiddles with your collar for a moment before stepping back, apparently satisfied with his work. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Better?” You ask sardonically.

“Much,” Hannibal remarks. “Shall we?” He holds out an arm and you scoff. Hannibal freezes and you do, too. Shit. You hadn’t meant to scoff aloud. You compensate by putting your hand on his arm and he sends you a smile that is almost… fond. You immediately disregard that notion.

The drive to the opera house is enjoyable. Hannibal is one of the few people that you feel comfortable enough to share silence with. You don’t feel the need to constantly fill the air and, so, you spend most of the ride staring out the window and looking at the trees. Before long, Hannibal is pulling into a parking space and the two of you are ascending the stairs leading to the opera house. The building is rather grand, with beautiful towering pillars and elegant statues decorating the path to the entrance. When you enter, you’re unsurprised to see Hannibal’s mask slide neatly into place.

Evidently, Hannibal has been here before, because he navigates the opera house with practiced ease. There are several people that greet him upon his entrance, and he smiles and sends them a courteous wave. You idly wonder if he truly likes any of these people, or if he merely tolerates them. As you continue to walk in, you’re brutally aware of the gazes searing into your back. You’re sure that Hannibal will be the talk of the town soon enough—you get the feeling he never brings people to these kinds of events. Indeed, he seems the type to want to appreciate art in solitude. You debate asking him once more if he’s okay with being seen with you here. Within a few moments, you’re finally in the area where the performance is scheduled to occur. Hannibal leads you to your seats—which are in one of the balconies—and you can’t suppress your thoughts any longer. Thankfully, it seems no one else has found their seats in your section just yet.

“You realize how this looks, right?” You finally ask. Hannibal sends a curious glance at you and you refuse to acknowledge how handsome he looks right now. You avert your eyes for a moment, instead watching as the people below file into their seats. “Everyone thinks that I’m…  you know.” Hannibal continues to stare at you with a blank expression. Damn it, is he really going to make you explain it? You try to push past your embarrassment and remain professional. “I think they’re under the impression that we’re… dating.”

“The thought makes you uncomfortable,” Hannibal states, crossing one leg over the other. That must be why he chose these seats—he probably needs the legroom. The people below are milling about, talking with one another. You’re grateful that these seats are isolated from everyone else—there’s no expectation for you to talk to anyone.

“No, it doesn’t,” you clarify, wondering how he justified that leap in logic. “Besides, if anyone’s reputation is going to be at risk, it’ll be yours.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Hannibal says, something akin to amusement on his face. You’re not sure what he’s finding so amusing—you don’t think your statement was far-fetched or unreasonable. From the moment you walked in, you noticed quite a few people staring at Hannibal and you. They seemed to be making their own conclusions about the two of you; you just wanted to warn him. “I am not worried about my reputation.”

“You think your reputation won’t be affected?” You squint at him, trying to watch for a reaction. “...Or you just don’t care?” Your companion is silent for a moment.

“I was under the impression that I was the psychiatrist here,” Hannibal then remarks lightly. He sends you a look and you feel a momentary inkling of shame.

“Sorry,” you grimace. Hannibal’s lips quirk at the sides—a sign that he isn’t truly upset about your sudden psychoanalysis. You feel the need to justify your reaction regardless. “It’s easy to slip into the criminal profiling mindset sometimes,”

You spend the next several minutes having lighthearted conversation. It’s rather nice. The theater slowly begins to fill up until, finally, the lights dim and someone appears on the stage. To your surprise, the performance is rather enjoyable. You must be rather horrible at hiding your preconceptions, because Hannibal sends you a knowing look after the first song. You pretend not to notice the smugness radiating off the man, and instead focus on the singer. They’re quite talented, unsurprisingly. You’re not quite sure how much the tickets were, but judging from your surroundings, you’d guess they were rather expensive.

You take advantage of the brief intermission in the middle of the program to use the facilities. Once you’re finished, you move to go back into the theatre. However, there’s suddenly a hand grabbing your shoulder and you’re forcefully guided into a deserted hallway. You chance a glance over your shoulder, only to find a far too familiar patient of Dr. Lecter’s: Franklyn Froideveaux.

“Franklyn,” you remark, feeling extremely apprehensive once you recognize him. The man is wearing a three-piece suit again, but this time it’s eerily similar to something Hannibal might wear. You frown at the thought. Franklyn’s obsession with Dr. Lecter is really rather creepy. If Hannibal weren’t such a capable killer, perhaps you’d be worried for him.

“I saw you with Dr. Lecter,” Franklyn states matter-of-factly. He crowds you against the wall and you have to lean back against it to avoid touching him. The look in the man’s eyes is unnerving. It sends a shiver down your spine. There’s nothing in his irises except madness.

“Yes,” you respond, once you realize that Franklyn is awaiting an answer. You don’t tell him that Hannibal invited you, but he seems to come to that conclusion on his own.

“What did he do?” Franklyn asks. “Did he hold the car door open for you? What cologne does he wear? I have a few ideas but I can’t decide between them.” You feel your head begin to ache at his persistent badgering. You’re deeply unsettled by him.

“What’s it like being friends with Dr. Lecter?” He continues. Franklyn doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, as he continues rattling off questions. “Is he a good friend? Do you two spend time together?”

“Um-” You try to say, only for Franklyn to stop mid-tirade. His eyes quickly lock on the suit you’re wearing and you grit your teeth. This is easily one of the most uncomfortable interactions you’ve ever had, and it isn’t even over yet. You flinch as he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s Dr. Lecter’s clothing,” Franklyn remarks, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you wince. His grip is beginning to hurt; you think you may have bruises later. “You’re wearing his clothing.”

“No, I’m not,” you try to argue.

“Yes, you are,” Franklyn asserts, not indicating that he’s hearing you or even seeing you. His eyes are glazed and it almost seems as if he’s looking directly through you. “He lent you his clothes. Why? What does he see in you?”

Ouch. That hurts for a microsecond, before you then realize that Franklyn’s opinion bears absolutely no relevance to your life. You want to speak on those thoughts, but there’s a crazed look in the man’s eyes and you decide to stay silent. Franklyn seems to take your silence as an argument itself, though, because his hand tightens on your shoulder rather painfully. You try to shove him off, but the man’s grip is unyielding.

A familiar voice calls your name from further down the hallway. You squint, only to find Hannibal walking towards the two of you. There’s an inexplicable expression on his face, and you can’t even begin to dissect it.

“Hannibal,” you breathe, unable to hide the relief you feel at his presence. Franklyn finally releases his grip on you and you reach a hand up to massage your shoulder. The man’s attention is off of you now, thankfully.

“I presumed you to be lost, but I see that notion is incorrect,” Hannibal says, his gaze flitting about your face as if looking for any sign of distress. He then looks at Franklyn, disinterest and boredom evident in his expression. Of course, Franklyn doesn’t care to notice it. He sees what he wants to see, you think to yourself. “What is going on here? Franklyn?”

Franklyn looks to you expectantly, as if waiting for you to lie for him. You instead remain silent. You know that, right now, telling the truth will unnecessarily escalate the situation. Besides, your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you and you can’t find the energy to continue the conversation.

“We were just having a friendly conversation.” Franklyn answers. Hannibal looks to you for confirmation and you avert your eyes. Meanwhile, Franklyn seems to be falling over himself in an attempt to secure Hannibal’s attention. “Dr. Lecter, it’s so nice to see you here,” Franklyn says, his voice a far cry from the manic lunacy from before. The sudden change is rather dizzying. This man is suffocating to be around. “You know, I thought this might be your kind of place. I was just speaking to your friend here…”

You place a hand on your temple, beginning to get a migraine from the sheer burst of emotions surrounding Franklyn. Your skills in criminal profiling typically allow you to get a sense of other people’s feelings. At worst, you can get a trace of what they feel. Right now, however, you feel every emotion Franklyn is exuding, and it’s enough to make your vision grainy and fuzzy. He continues prattling on, but all you can sense is the horrible flood of obsession, jealousy, and a visceral desire so palpable that it makes you nauseous.

You put a hand to the wall behind you, feeling the need to brace yourself against something. Everything in the background falls to a dull buzzing rhythm—Franklyn’s giddy conversation with Hannibal, the muted sound of the performance that you can hear through the walls. You close your eyes and beg for the torture to stop. Maybe Franklyn will take pity on you and walk away. Maybe Hannibal will lose his patience and walk away, too—you wouldn’t be surprised.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your forearm. You vaguely register—through swirling vision—Hannibal leading you further down the abandoned hallway until he stops and pushes you into an armchair. Despite the overwhelming emotionality that Franklyn practically assaulted you with, you manage to scrounge up a rather large amount of guilt.

“Sorry,” you choke out to Hannibal. Your breathing is still a bit rough and your clothes feel incredibly constricting. You roll up the sleeves of your jacket—well, Hannibal’s jacket—and try to stammer out the rest of your apology. “Feel free to go back inside; I just need a moment.”

You place a hand over your aching temple and another on the arm of the chair. Selfishly, you think that you could use Hannibal’s support, but you don’t want to occupy his attention when the performance is still happening. You close your eyes and try to pretend that your ears aren’t buzzing. You wait to hear his footsteps as he retreats; you wait to hear an acquiescence. A few seconds pass. Instead, there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Dr. Lecter,” you choke out, your eyes beginning to burn. You wipe at them furiously, despite knowing that the effort is futile. “Go back inside.”

“No,” Hannibal says. You can’t see the expression on his face through your blurred vision—you just pray that it isn’t annoyance or irritation.

“I’ll be fine,” you maintain through gritted teeth. You think you hear Hannibal sigh at that, but it could easily be your imagination. The man looks down at you before pressing a cool hand to your forehead. Despite knowing that he’ll withdraw his hand in a few moments, you can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I’m sure,” Hannibal remarks, pulling you up to your feet and steadying you as your balance wavers. He places your hand on his arm and the two of you walk back in the direction you came. To your surprise, when you reach the door to the theater, Hannibal pivots and leads you towards the exit. You shake your head in disbelief as humiliation, shame, and guilt battle for prominence in your chest. Before long, Hannibal has led the two of you into his car. The moment you’re in his car, you bury your head in your hands.

Everything in your vision feels harsher and sharper. You begin to dig your nails into your palms unconsciously, hoping for some means to establish yourself in reality. You don’t realize you’re doing it until Hannibal reaches out and pries your hands apart. Your hands are trembling ever so slightly and you ball them into fists.

You’re not sure how much time you spend trying to regain your composure in the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Dignity is a foreign concept. You’re sure the embarrassment will catch up to you later—perhaps when you’re home and have some time to think.

At some point, Hannibal begins driving. Thankfully, the roads aren’t bumpy and the ride is rather smooth. He’s entirely silent and you feel the beginnings of remorse prickling along your skin. Hannibal never asked you to explain your interaction with Franklyn, but you feel that he deserves to know what happened.

“You realize Franklyn’s in love with you, right?” You blurt out, before quickly turning your head to look out the window and avoid Hannibal’s gaze. Truthfully, you had hoped to lead into that a little bit more. Somehow, that statement was what came from your lips.

“Yes.” Hannibal responds, his eyes still locked on the road. You take the afforded opportunity to look at him, confident in the notion that you aren’t being observed right back. Hannibal seems… entirely unruffled. Then again, he always looks unbothered. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to notice when something bothers him.

“He asked me what cologne you wear,” you decide to start with. You describe how you had tried to make your way back to the theater, only to be stopped by Hannibal’s patient and led off into a secluded hallway. “Franklyn knew that I was wearing your clothes; he also wanted to know what it’s like to be friends with you.”

“What did you say?” Hannibal asks, his attention still focused on the road.

“Nothing; he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise,” you admit. You run a finger along the smooth fabric of your shirt sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, the sleeve had started to roll up on its own; you take a moment to fix that before continuing to speak. “He’s so… suffocating.”

“It seemed his presence was harming you,” Hannibal remarks bluntly. You nod in agreement. At first, the interaction was merely uncomfortable. However, once Hannibal appeared, Franklyn’s emotions hit you with full force.

“I could feel everything,” you break off for a moment. “The love, the obsession, the jealousy, the envy… It was overwhelming. That man is the darkest person I’ve ever met.”

“He isn’t a killer,” Hannibal points out. That’s true—you’ve seen your fair share of killers, with minds so dark that you couldn’t hope to find an escape. Even so, those criminals were… straightforward. Franklyn, on the other hand, is a paradox.

“I know,” you acknowledge. “Franklyn is extremely neurotic, though—arguably the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s stifling. He has debilitating control issues and a crippling urge to prove himself. He’s often a victim of his own envy and jealousy. His self-concept is… I can’t even begin to describe it.” Yet, there’s a thinly-veiled hunger in Hannibal’s eyes—he wants to hear what you have to say. You inhale slowly. Again, you feel as if you owe him for absolutely ruining his night. Besides, you’re sure that he already knows all this information anyway. Franklyn is his patient, after all.

“Franklyn is sort of… a shapeshifter, for lack of a better term. He’ll adjust and change himself to fit the situation best. When he’s in love, he’s dangerously obsessed. His unconventional actions are reassuring to him, though, because they give him a modicum of control—a control that he cannot possess over anything else.” You have a lot more that you could divulge on the matter, but you decide to stop there. Again, you’re convinced that Hannibal already knows all of that.

“I see why you’re Jack’s best profiler,” Hannibal says, finally looking away from the road to look at you. His eyes are glittering in the darkness. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary compliment, too tired to start an argument. To your surprise, when you look out the window, you realize that he’s driving down your street. That car ride had passed rather fast and within a few seconds, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway.

“We’re here,” you announce unnecessarily, grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the vehicle. To your surprise, Hannibal also gets out of the car. You squint at him in confusion, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You’re not quite sure what he’s playing at, but you’re too exhausted to figure it out. Instead of inquiring about his sudden interest in following you inside, you simply allow him to do so before closing the door behind him.

“Do you want your clothes back now?”  You ask, unable to come up with any other explanation for his presence in your home. It’s not that you mind his intrusion—not at all, actually—but you’d feel more comfortable for a legitimate reason for his presence.

“If that’s acceptable,” Hannibal answers, breaking you out of your thoughts. His eyes are fixed on something on one of your bookshelves. You shake your head at his strange fascination with your living room decorations.

“Sure, I’ll go change; mind waiting here?” He assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting. You shut the door behind you in the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. There are dark circles under your eyes and you look a little frazzled. Otherwise, you don’t look bad. Amazingly, you managed not to ruin Hannibal’s clothing—a feat you’re rather proud of yourself for. You settle for changing into a simple long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. As you change, you neatly fold Hannibal’s clothing into a pile. Once you’re done, you glance at your reflection one more time. You take a half-step backwards but, before you move to leave, your eyes catch on something below your collar. You squint and lean closer to the mirror, convinced that you’re seeing things. Somehow, though, you’re not. After a moment’s hesitation, you pull your shirt collar to the side, only to find harsh marks on your collarbone and shoulder. They’re almost in the shape of a handprint and it doesn’t take much detective work to realize who they’re from—Franklyn.

That realization is not very welcome, and you decide not to think about it right now. Remembering that Hannibal is waiting on you, you grab the folded pile of clothes and walk back out to the living room. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal is looking around with a scrutinizing gaze. You walk up to him and hold out the clothes, but his back is turned. You eventually just decide to place them on the entryway table—he’ll have to see them on the way out.

“Thank you for inviting me, it was very fun,” you smile. Hannibal turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. Just what is he looking for in your humble living room? He certainly won’t find anything of value. Furthermore, your decoration skills are nowhere near his. You can’t find a reasonable explanation for his behavior and, eventually, you have to give up on trying to rationalize it.

“I’m glad you found the night enjoyable,” he answers diplomatically. You raise an eyebrow at the stiff response. Perhaps your little… episode… had annoyed him more than you initially thought. Another apology certainly wouldn’t hurt.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your experience too much,” you wince, sheepishly shoving your hands in your pockets. Hannibal shakes his head, before taking a step closer to you.

“On the contrary, I found the performance more enjoyable with your company,” he asserts. Hannibal still looks as handsome as he did when he first appeared on your doorstep this evening—not a hair out of place. You swallow hard, before roughly shoving the thought aside—now is not the time. “I apologize for Franklyn.” Your eyebrows furrow. Why is he apologizing?

“You can’t control his actions,” you say, waving his concern off. “No harm done.” At that, Hannibal’s expression darkens. He takes another step closer, until the two of you are standing face to face. For a while, there is nothing but tense, uncomfortable silence.

“I disagree,” Hannibal says darkly, his hand resting lightly on your collarbone. Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing away the collar of your shirt to look at your shoulder. He frowns and you realize that he’s looking at the marks Franklyn left behind. If you had thought his prior expression to be dark, the look on his face now is nothing short of murderous. You feel your breath stalling in your chest, as you ground yourself in the realization that you’re standing in front of a killer with absolutely nothing to protect you. Hannibal moves to cup your cheek with a tenderness you thought him to be incapable of. His touch makes your skin feel licked with flames. Each breath you take feels labored and harsh. You swear you see Hannibal’s gaze fall to your lips for a brief moment, but you put it down to your imagination. It’s kind of late and you’re tired—you’re probably just seeing things. For a long moment, neither of you move or speak.

“Good night,” Hannibal says, a strangely determined expression on his face. His gaze keeps moving to your collarbone and you idly wish you had concealed the marks better. His hand falls from your face and he stares at you for a long moment, as if regretting your parting. You make sure to remind him of the pile of folded clothes, which he takes into his arms before turning around to leave.

“Good night, Hannibal,” you respond, opening the door for him. You watch as he enters his car and drives away. Despite the knowledge that he’s already out of sight, you feel the urge to wait a few more minutes before looking away. Finally, you close the front door and fall back against it, your mind reeling.

chapter six

#defectivevillain #Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x gn reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc

[suratan-zir]

Anon (whom I blocked so don't try to send me more asks), have you gone to any Palestinians' tumblr blogs and asked them why they don't post about Ukraine? No? Why? Seems like a stupid and innappropriate thing to ask?

I can't believe I have to say this, but a "quick search" through anyone's blog doesn't give you an adequate representation of what they care and don't care about.

I also didn't post about how the russians are currently demolishing the town of Avdiivka, which is a much closer place to me than Gaza. It's a town I've been to many times, I know people from there, it breaks my heart. Yet a "quick search" would show you nothing on this topic on my blog.

I also didn't post about the global warming, the Uyghur genocide in China, heroin and meth addiction epidemic in Afghanistan, female "circumcision", every human right violation in North Korea and so much more. And a quick search on my blog would probably show you that I care more about pickled watermelons than all the aforementioned horrible things. Because I did write about pickled watermelons.

It's so convenient for you to write anonymously so that no one can do a quick search through your blog.

For everyone else: again, I can't believe I have to say these things, but apparently I do. I don't support any genocide of any nationality. What Israel is doing to people in Gaza is genocide, no denying it. What Hamas is doing to Israel is terrorism. Two things can be true at the same time.

There will always be civilian casualties in any conflict, but deliberately targeting civilians is a crime that has no justification. No, killing babies and raping women is not resistance. By the way, by equating all Palestinians with Hamas, you're doing them a huge disservice. The only reason I said something about Israel at all was because I was horrified by the public reaction to atrocities, especially on tumblr. I was in shock that so many people can justify these things. I still am.

Back to anon. You don't get to tell me what to think, feel or post. It's even funny, a few weeks ago someone else came at me for posting tragic or I guess to them "political" stuff. They said tumblr is not the platform for that. Now you're telling me I can't be considered a decent human being unless I post about x/y/z. Maybe you can fuck off?

[ingravinoveritas]

Hi! :) So, about posting habits and copying:

Georgia posts this screenshot of someone asking her to tell David that they're in love with him/want to marry him (not sure anymore, but I'm counting on you to remember haha), responding yeah, I'll get right to that, or something akin to that.

It's funny enough and her reply doesn't come across as anything more than humorous, in my opinion, especially since we've seen this theme for years, on Twitter and Instagram. It's on-brand-Georgia.

Her tone, albeit the sarcasm, is still pretty nice, playing the ball back by pretending that she's not telling David because then she'd have to compete with the person who wrote in. I'm sure whoever texted her this was giggling at their phone when Georgia responded. I'm not sure if the same thing will be the case with fan interaction number two, however: Cue, Anna.

Because now, a few days later, Anna posts what is pretty much the same interaction with a fan (about Michael, obv.), but all the charme is gone? Or is that just me?

Let's get something straight, though: The fan message she got was a lot less "sweet" than the one Georgia received (how many kisses does it take for a message to become either passive aggressive or just too hyper or even kind of insincere in tone?), so I won't be too harsh on her for responding in kind (xxxx). Still, had me cringe a little.

Thing is, the more or less blatant copying of Georgia's social media voice keeps fascinating me. Whilst, at most times, it's obvious but still fine as its own thing, this time the whole post really just seemed too...Georgia. Firstly, because it really is like a total replica, secondly because Georgia has worn the "playfully possessive"-badge for years now. I'm not saying that Anna is just pretending to also be that, I genuinely don't think that's true, at least not fully, but what I am saying is that she's clearly aware of this sort of humour being well-received within the fandom and also very intentional about timing. It's always... funny? Noticable? exactly when these "replica posts" appear.

Although, in this case we also have to consider that she responded at the time she got the message (or a day later, at most), so the timing isn't really on her. In fact, this might just be a fan actively going for having the same interaction with Anna that another fan had with Georgia, basically setting her up. Especially considering how the DM was worded - again, it seemed a little too intentional/over the top.

(But yeah, a couple of hours earlier: The Tennant's face sitting post (and, whew lol), so is this trying to somehow keep up with their dynamic again?)

I want to stress that I don't think that any of this is a bad thing. There's literally no harm in her trying to cater to the fandom with this tone of voice and seeming a bit unoriginal. And what do we know, maybe she and Georgia really are that similiar, it's not like Georgia's humour and interactions are that singular. But I'm still having a different response to Georgia's posts in comparison to Anna's, even though they are so similiar, and that's what it comes down to.

Maybe that's completely unfair towards Anna (to some degrees it must be, since Georgia simply has been around longer and therefore claimed her kind of tone, if that's even a thing), but maybe it also comes down to authenticity - or a lack thereoff?

(Grouping these together since they are related.) Well, I hadn't seen AL's story this morning until I got your message @wanderingsemi, so thank you for the heads up. And it is, as you said, an almost exact replica of an Insta story Georgia posted a week ago. Let's get the visual up here, so folks can see both stories:

So, the first thing I will say is that I often have difficulty with discerning people's tones online, as the lack of vocal inflection/other indicators tends to make things challenging. I appreciate you sharing that Georgia's tone came across as humorous to you, because while I definitely did get the sarcasm, I also felt a sense of contempt coming from Georgia's reply, too. I do agree, however, that her response was very much "her," in her trademark style, and is something we've come to expect over the last few years now.

It's probably worth mentioning that these are both odd/weird things to send to your fave's partners. I know social media has largely eroded a sense of boundaries in a lot of fans, but it's just an awkward thing to say overall. (I submit that it's actually more awkward/inappropriate than RPF, because RPF is fantasy and is not something any of these people would come into direct contact with unless they went looking for it.) That being said, while neither Georgia nor AL can control the things fans send to them, they can choose to respond (or not) to said comments. So thinking about your Ask, @armangelus, we have Georgia here essentially doing the same thing as AL--being possessive of David in response to a random DM--yet the results are wildly different.

Which then brings me to AL's response. Going back to our discussion on tone, I am not sure that I interpreted the message AL got as being "less sweet" than the one Georgia received, as they seem incredibly similar to me. I'm not sure the message-sender was actually being passive-aggressive, but because AL seemed to look at it that way, it is then reflected in her response (and is fitting with her past responses/personality, which has been passive-aggressive on multiple occasions).

For a little backstory (and this largely comes from @problematicwelshman, whose blog is well worth reading for a lot of tea related to Michael and AL going back to 2019): AL's social media was entirely scrubbed when her and Michael's relationship first came to light (end of June 2019). This also coincided with Michael's longtime PR person quitting, and a seeming overhaul of AL's social media presence. Initially, though, a lot of her posts were in her own voice, but they did not seem to go over well/she was not connecting with the fandom (see this post for links to examples, most of which involve belittling Michael/making fun of his weight and appearance).

Then in mid-2021, this all shifted with an event Michael appeared at for the 150th birthday of the Royal Albert Hall. Suddenly AL was praising and complimenting him in ways she never had in any of her past posts. This also happened to coincide with Georgia starting the #Shebergs hashtag (which sounds like an iceberg, a.k.a. the thing that took down the Titanic, so I'm still not sure why that was chosen as a portmanteau of AL and Michael's names), as well as AL promoting Last Train to Christmas, a movie of Michael's that she appeared in that was released at the end of 2021. So this was another social media overhaul/PR effort, seemingly perfectly timed with AL having something to promote and trying to advance her acting career.

But what this was also the start of is what you alluded to, which is that inauthenticity. I can completely understand you having a different reaction to AL's story than Georgia's, because as you said, that charm is not there, which I think is because it's Georgia's charm, not Anna's. And as much as she might copy Georgia's tone or the types of content she posts, you can't really copy charm--it's either something you have, or something you don't. I think it also ties into the other thing you referenced, which is the "playfully possessive" thing. It actually is something that Anna has copied, also on multiple occasions (see below)...but much like with this story, it doesn't come across the same way as when Georgia does it:

(Another notable thing about the response on the left is that AL was not even tagged in the original tweet, which also copies Georgia's pattern of randomly replying to fans on Twitter--usually as a result of searching David's name, which she has been known to do.)

So yes, I think we can definitely see a clear pattern here, which has seemingly only become more blatant as of late. And while I agree there is no harm on one level of trying to appeal to the fandom, I don't think it's unfair to AL at all because there is such a clear, agenda to what she is doing that becomes more obvious as you look back over the past few years. That, in my opinion, is what makes it seem so forced and not genuine, and is why one might feel a different reaction to her post versus Georgia's.

Those are pretty much my thoughts, rambling as they were. I appreciate both of you sharing yours as well so that we could have this discussion. Thanks for writing in! x

#wanderingsemi #armangelus #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #the more i think about it the weirder this all seems #the Georgia copying is getting more obvious #but so are other things #this is cringey all around tbh #but yeah #and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't #because Georgia has earned that. but AL has not. #fandom woes #anna lundberg #discourse

[alpaca-clouds]

Solarpunk-Review: Soylent Green is People! by Carlos Orsi

Preface: I asked a couple of months ago, whether people would be interested to read reviews of different Solarpunk shortstories, given that I have collected quite a few Solarpunk anthologies. And several people said, they were. (Shoutout to @solarpunkpresentspodcast!) Hence I am going to start posting a review once or twice a week now. I will start by reviewing the stories from Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable world, given that this anthology is very much part of the beginning of Solarpunk as a genre. Though this means too, that certain ideas of Solarpunk might not be quite as thought through yet.

Summary

The nameless protagonist is a private detective. When a well-known and rich engineer dies by suicide and his mother disappears, several people want to either see the mother found or the death confirmed. After all, there is a considerable heritage to speak about. A heritage that both the engineer's girlfriend, and the mother's church want to lay claim to.

General Review

As it is so often with detective stories that hinge on a big mystery, it is quite hard to review this story, without going too far into spoiler territory. And given this story relies on the central mystery to keep you going (especially as it is fairly long for a short story), I will not spoil it.

It was kinda funny how this story very much did feel like a noir story, though I might note that I really could have done without the attractiveness of female characters being a topic that somehow had to be brought up against and again throughout this story. And while the female characters were not exactly sexualized, with each of them (even the missing 90yo mother) attractiveness was a thing that was brought out.

The mystery itself worked really good though. I was invested in it and the final twist was a good one, that I quite enjoyed. Now, I could point out one major plothole in there - but it is not one that I can talk about without spoiling the story. So just know: Something about the end of the story leaves open a big plothole that to me was not properly answered.

The Solarpunk Factor

Let me talk about the aspect, that I want to bring up in all of these reviews: How Solarpunk is this story?

And honestly, to me the point where it lost me in this regard is the very beginning, where the story brings up that the missing mother was disabled, and it goes: "Could you believe that? She totally chose to be disabled!!!" Because we quickly learn, that basically in this world nobody really is disabled, given that with cybertech and genetech most disabilities have been healed. And while the story at times feels at least somewhat critical of this societal pressure to get yourself cured - and also have your looks changed through genetech - it was this fact that really did not make this story feel Solarpunk to me.

Honestly, in general I got to say that for several reasons (some of which again are very essential to the reveal, hence I will not spoil them) this story felt as if it was set more in a very eco-friendly biopunk world, rather than anything I would consider actually Solarpunk. Partly, too, because we also quickly learn that this world is definitely one of capitalism still.

#solarpunk #solarpunk review #short stories #short story review #anthology #science fiction #biopunk #cyberpunk

[kafus]

i would super love to hear another cool pokemon story if there's one you wanna share!! literally anything; all your pokemon posts are so interesting and engaging to read ♡ also!!! i hope you're doing well and finding reason to smile each day

ogh THANK U i hope ur doing well as well

one of these days i might run out of stories 😭 BUT i don’t think i’ve talked about the pokemon competition i went to when i was around 8 years old??? and i’ve been thinking about that recently so why not

i’ve talked before about how my interest in pokemon as a young person was defined by loneliness/isolation and how i never really had the social pokemon experience that most people did, so the few times i actually got to interact with other people over the shared interest stick out very strongly in my brain. in particular when i was i Think 8 years old, there used to be a small family-owned video game store in my town (it shut down a long time ago unfortunately, i miss it) and they ran events sometimes. i managed to find out they were running a singles competition in pokemon battle revolution, and my mom actually agreed to taking me

it’s important to keep in mind that i was like 8 and i didn’t know shit about competitive battling. i loved sinnoh and had pokemon i thought were strong but at this time i didn’t even know natures affected stats. i was an inexperienced little girl and i just brought my team of in-game guys that i liked. amusingly i was the only girl there, i just remember walking in and being surrounded by boys LOL both my age and older, like there were some older teens and maaaybe adults idk

anyway all things considered i actually got decently far because competitive mons was much more niche back then and no one knew what they were doing LMAO. i was mostly pitting my in-game mons against other kids’ in-game mons. i knew type matchups by heart and had some pretty decent pokemon to my memory - i don’t remember my entire team but i know i had torterra and articuno at least (articuno was one of my favorite pokemon at the time)

eventually i was… like… idk right before semi finals? i wasn’t quite in the top 4, i think i was in the top 8? i went up against an older boy who actually knew what he was doing and had a genuine competitive team. i’m not sure how old he actually was, at the time anyone above the age of 13 looked like an adult to me lol, i’m guessing in retrospect he was 17 or something. he THOROUGHLY kicked my ass with fucking BLISSEY TOXIC STALL lmao. at the time i was dumbfounded at how his blissey just took no fucking damage and it’s really funny being able to understand what happened in retrospect, i kept bringing my special attackers not being aware of blissey’s extremely lopsided defensive stats.

you’d think i would have been upset about losing but i was moreso really impressed with this guy’s blissey, and then smth i’ll never forget, after i lost he shook my hand and looked at me in the eyes and said that i did a good job and that i should keep playing pokemon because he thinks from the way that i played that i had a lot of potential. i was literally over the moon, it meant so much to be acknowledged with full seriousness by someone so much older than me who also lest we forget literally just beat my ass with toxic stall lol. having my interest in pokemon validated and being told i was good at it just made my entire week. or month. or year tbh.

nowadays that i’m a ribbon master mod and going to my first regionals next month, i think about that guy a lot. perhaps i was a late bloomer but i think whatever he saw in me was real. not that i’m the best pokemon player ever or something, and i’m certainly still learning a lot about vgc in particular, but like. yeah i do really care about this game and i think i have the potential to be good at it. and it was prophesized long agodjdjdk

always be nice to kids cause small gestures like that can stick with someone for the rest of their life tbh

#kiki was here #asks #kira-kira-kitty #pokemon #dppt #pbr

[creaturefeaster]

new day new morning post

Currently 06:55 PST as I begin this post.

Does anyone else listen to The Cure? They're touring this year overseas, the last time they did was 8 years ago. I'm going in June to see them live, and I'm very excited. When buying tickets with my husband, I remarked that a The Cure concert is probably one of the only places I could be where people wouldn't stare at me (my fashion is what I'd call dark and loud)-- something I found funny.

On top of this, I was asked if I wanted to get a tattoo for my birthday. I have been considering a tattoo for a while now, though I've been on the fence because the idea of putting something permanent on my body is a hard hurdle to get over in my brain. Or moreso, I'd just want to make sure it isn't something I would regret down the line. I'm considering imagery of things I've always loved; Cow skulls, roses & thorns, eyes, a few things that cross my mind that are also pretty safe and hard to get wrong on a tattoo.

Maybe I'll find someone to help design a tattoo for me. That'd be fun. But also perhaps difficult when there's only a couple of weeks left until my birthday. Much to think about.

Speaking of much to think about, I succumbed to one of my usual dreams of dire last night. I have always been a nightmare dreamer, usually about zombie invasions, or an indescribable entity that kills the population in swathes. Tonight though, it was a dream about someone who was considered to be so perfect (for reasons I don't know. the guy was kind of a dick imo), that there was a mad chase to both capture this guy, and also keep him safe from harm.

My dream ended sort of abruptly near the end. I don't remember much about the details of the dream, other than that it was a lot of sneaking around in the dark. One of the ending scenes though was someone attacking this 'perfect guy,' completely severing his hand and pulling his arm so harshly you could see it hanging from the ligaments that attached it to his shoulder.

People in my group, that I was apparently in, flipped the fuck out and decided the only way to balance justice in this situation was to axe the attacker right in the forehead. The gore was excessive!

I'm not sure why this dream was so brutal and graphic. But I have awoken quickly because of it, meaning I can start my day early and more awake. I'll take it.

...

RE: To follow up with my little grumbles in my last morning post, nobody is harassing me. That hasn't happened in years. It's moreso an influx of people either messaging me and begging me to come back, or people messaging me asking if they can have my ask blogs. Both insensitive considering that I feel I've been pretty clear on my stances with the blog & fandom. But also everyone gives the fandom too much credit for making me pull away from the show. One of the biggest things for me was some of the more recent stuff they had in the show that made me feel so sickened, I just couldn't enjoy it anymore.

I've considered recently just unfollowing people who post about the show on the regular, or even blocking some, because tumblr reallllly likes to recommend me blogs just loaded with SP content still, and it's starting to get on my nerves. That, and the more I think on what happened in the show, the more it makes me uncomfortable to be around people who just pretend it never happened/ignore it.

...

Anyways, this is more than I wanted to say on the subject already. I'm over it for now.

P.S. By the way, I loved reading from you guys how you've all been doing. Some left replies, some sent me asks, some DMed. It's nice to know what people around me have going on :3.

Here's this morning's question: What's the latest dream you can remember having?

#yknow spacehey was going to be the place for these rambles #and i love that site still don't get me wrong #but i ran into some issues that make it hard for me to use #so i guess for now until i figure that all out #i continue to ramble here

[winderlylandchime]

I cannot believe that everyone can tell that my brother is dumb enough to actually think about making Randy his therapist. Even my neighbor when I told her went ‘oh he would totally be his client if he lived close by.’

Honestly I still can’t believe he is retiring. I’m very happy for him that he is doing something with his life that he believes will bring him joy and stability but fuck does it hurt a little. I think the trouble I’m having is because I’ve seen him on the show/interviews and now podcast so it’s very strange to imagine him being all serious and professional. Hopefully this doesn’t mean we will never see him again. But i hope he has a successful career and that he enjoys it while also helping people.

I feel like Gale probably has to do some normal-ish type of jobs but I feel like he would maybe go for theatre and either teach it or something to do with that. I mean i don’t even know what part of the country the guy lives in so I think that probably has a lot of say in what he’s doing with his career. I did tell my brother that IF anybody were to give us a proof of life for him it will probably be Robert for birthday posts.. Hopefully Robert gets my message from the universe and delivers us some proof of life.

And as for my brothers collection of purses: it’s not a very big collection, he only uses it for “special occasions” like two weeks ago when he went to a mechanic for his car or a doctor check up but i think he has like 5. Two of them i know are small sized black ones (enough only for a wallet/keys/phone) because he made me buy him one for his bday. And I know one of them is a screaming yellow color because ‘sometimes you need a pop of color’. But the reason he actually started using them was because 12-15ish years ago, his friends and him were going to Pride and none of them decided on an outfit that had pockets. So one day he was at a mall and he found a purse with a rainbow on it (i teased him that it was pride merch but he swears it was a sign from the universe) so he bought it for Pride so that him and his friends could put their wallets/keys inside. I wish i was joking when I say that the hetero himbos who went to pride just to accompany me, treated this accessory as if he was the biggest genius they ever met. My brother actually said to my mom ‘yooo why didn’t you tell me about this luxury? There’s so much space for stuff in here! I can even put snacks in here.’

As for the qaf dvds, one of our cousins actually does have them but he forgot about that and tbh I think she is waiting to tell him because she knows he would try to steal them. But I wouldn’t put it past him to actually succeed in finding them on ebay or something, he is stubborn enough.

The funny thing is, dear sweet anon, Randy would kind of be the perfect therapist for your brother since all his angst right now is about QAF and one of the few people with actual answers is Randy.

My biggest fear about Randy as a therapist is less than people have seen him naked and having very realistic simulated sex on Showtime and more that on the podcast he gave his opinions about pop culture and he's such a snob! I don't want my therapist to think less of me because I have brain rot for a TV show or I like a musical that's not (gasp!) Sondheim... and he totally gives that vibe on the pod.

I do think Gale lives in LA. Or at least that's what I last heard. Which means there's a million ways to make money that's entertainment industry adjacent.

I love that your brother and his hetero himbos accompanied you to Pride and brought a communal purse and then marveled at it. Without for a moment considering why their outfits didn't have pockets and why most women's clothing doesn't have pockets. And why purses are necessary at all. (TBH I carry a big mom bag because I have anxiety and what if I need... water, advil, a bandaid, a hairbrush, a protein bar, a change of clothes, etc while I'm out?)

I think the DVDs are definitely available on eBay! They might just cost an arm and a leg. Just typing that I feel like I'm dooming your brother to an accident involving his arm and/or leg. Tell him to be careful!

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023 #2024 edition

[ginoeh]

Shipper Tag Game

I was tagged by the lovely @tj-dragonblade , thank you!

What ship were you completely obsessed with as a teenager, but now you don’t care about anymore?

As a teenager... well, that was quite a while ago lol. I suppose that would have been Harry/Draco. First fandom, first queer pairing, first smut stories. I was such a sweet sweet summer child XD The early 00s were wild

Which ship would you consider your first one?

Soooo. Funny story. Way back when, I got into fanfiction via fanfiction.net. You know how their filter system is bad/non-existent? Yeah. Little me, on her first outing to ffnet, didn’t know how to operate the character settings. I clicked on the first story on the top of the first page of the HP section. It was a Snape/Hermione star-crossed lover deal. It flash-fried my brain, taught me content curation in a crash course and incidentially made me partial to the ship for quite a few years...

Your first fanfic was about which couple?

See above lol. I will never ever forget the experience. I tried to find that story later for downloading (like an ugly beloved keepsake ig lol) but never managed.

If you mean fanfic I've written: it was gen.

Do you remember the first couple you saw fan art of?

Kakashi/Obito

Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

Nope. Scraped by a few times since I entered the tumblr bubble but managed to stay out of it. I don’t get the point. It's freaking fictional characters in fictional worlds. Go touch grass or something instead... (but you will make me fucking mad if you try to drag me into these things with wild ad hom accusations based on what i ship or dont ship)

Did you used to have a NOTP or have one currently?

No, not really. It's only ever preferences. There are some I dislike due to my own hc/inability to suspend my disbelief but I wouldn’t call them NOTPs. I just don’t read them.

Who were the last couple in the last fanfic you read?

Dreamling

Currently, do you have any OTPs?

I actually dislike the term OTP. It's a scale of preferences for me. There are few (read: none) fav characters that I can only see with one love interest (and anyway, sometimes i do prefer plot over love story. wild take i know) and the more time I spend in a fandom the more I diversify.

Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting into?

I don’t get this question, sorry. If I'm interested, I'll search it out. Even if the fandom is old. AO3 is an archive for exactly that reason.

Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they’re kind of interesting?

Not that I can think of, at the moment!

Do you have any ship that, in the past, would have been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Probably? I'm not clear on what all one is getting cancelled over this week/month/year by which group of 'concerend bystanders'. I suppose I might get cancelled for the mentioned Hermione/Snape?

What is your favourite crack ship?

I'm so glad you asked. It's clearly Dream/Helm (thank you for that @writing-for-life ) Or Gollum/The One Ring (thanks go to Neil himself here). Or - actually, never mind lol.

What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

At the moment it's Dreamling. But I cycle through fandoms/pairings periodically...(btw im looking for more Johanna/Death? If anyone could point me in the right direction?)

What do most of your ships have in common?

At least one character has a dark/unknown/violent/tragic past (they can be victim or perpetrator!!! I'm all for character development babey)

What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

I don’t hate ships? As I said above. Possibly the reduction on 'I can fix him/her' or 'my love will save him/her from depression/"the darkness"/etc.' but that is mostly a matter of the author's style of crafting characterization and plot and has nothing to do with the ship itself.

I'm tagging @bazzybelle , @seiya-starsniper , @writing-for-life if you want to or maybe just point me towards your post if you've done it already?

#ginoeh talks #tag games

[yours-the-author]

The Worst Thing I've Ever Drawn

I had the pleasure of watching the 1985 live action movie adaptation of Clue a week ago for the first time in a while. It's easily one of my favorite movies, combing over the top slapstick with genuinely fun wordplay and a touch of improve. The setting is great, the characters are fun, and it's just a fun old time when I get to sit down and watch it with the fam.

You're probably wondering what the movie Clue has to do with the title of this post (especially considering the generally abysmal quality of the "drawings" I post). Well, there's a particular character in the movie, Wadsworth the Butler, who is absolutely the star of the show (in a show fully of characters with their shining moments). He's clever, funny, but most importantly, he's very physically distinct, which is to be expected from the actor who portrays him: Tim Curry.

I, personally, put this acting gig way up on my reasons for liking him as an actor, as well as the fact that he did the audio books for most of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events" books (the few exceptions were always to let the author himself do some reading, which I also appreciated).

So yeah, I think Tim Curry is pretty cool. But as I was watching the movie the other week, I realized something that I couldn't get out of my head, and I had to act on it.

When I imagined these images in my head, I was thinking more of screenshots of certain scenes that I'd then draw over a little bit, like drawing a mustache on a character's face, for example. Unfortunately, I don't have access to technology like that (or if I do, I don't know how to use it), so I had to go about a different way: by taking pictures of the scenes with my phone, then tracing over them and adding the mustache-type details as I went. This is very inefficient and, again, I'm not the best artist in the world, but I worked hard on these, and I think they're pretty funny, so I'll share them with you now.

In the event of The Henry Stickmin Collection by Puffballs United becoming a live action movie (entirely theoretical), I present my personal choice of casting:

Tim Curry starring as Reginald Copperbottom:

You're welcome.

More under the line!

Another angle of the man of the hour, featuring fewer face wrinkles.

That Feeling When you spent so much money on that.

(please ignore how small RHM is, I can't understand portions evening when I'm cheating/tracing)

The (Toppat Recruits) gang's all here! (Henry is Not Okay)

Uh-oh! The leaders are fighting! (Featuring Sven looking on tearfully at an awful angle)

I don't think the gun was supposed to go off just then...

Look out, Charles! He has a gun!

(again, please ignore the weird proportions on Charles, he's Not Okay)

Give us a big, evil smile! He's committing daylight robbery!

Time to get serious! No more messing around! It's time to-

BRITISH DOWN! Spoilers for the end of the movie?!?!

#thsc #the henry stickmin collection #clue #cluedo #clue movie #clue 1985 #tim curry #reginald copperbottom #right hand man #henry stickmin #ellie rose #sven svensson #charles calvin #tw blood #tw implied death #my art #awful #my hands are cursed #I cannot make good art #I only make monstrosities #even when I'm losing I'm a cheater #tim curry as wadsworth would be the perfect fit for reginald #he's such a sopping wet man in this movie #literally #minor spoilers #there's a scene where he turns a knob thinking it's a door but it's actually a shower #everyone in the movie starts out all nice and dressed up #but over the course of the movie they become more and more disheveled and rat-like #sorry for the preamble I wanted to be dramatic #clue really is a good movie

[yuukei-yikes]

i’m so curious to hear more about how the haruka and shintaro relationship develops post str. bc like there’s konoha and also the mess with shinaya and shintaro and takanes messed up dynamic and i just read your thing about how takane and shintaros friendship plays out and like… i’m so curious how or if haruka and shintaro ever get back to a good place and like how much do they even interact outside the quartet and can they even have a relationship separate from takane

YEAHYEAHYEAH WOOOO WOOOO guess what. this one also got too long💗 whatever. deal with it

i think haruka and shintaro are rly quick to go back to their old dynamic!!! but erm. ok here's the thing.

SORRY TO GET ALL ANNOYING ABT THIS AGAIN i answered this in an ask a few weeks ago BUT i am gonna repeat. it pisses me off SOOOOO MUCH that shintaro is totally normal to haruka and just a dickhead to ayano&takane. i accidentally went on a rant abt the misogynistic writing in shintaro/in general lollll and i might do it again💗 i will do it again. sorry, because when it comes to haruka & shintaro's dynamic this is SO difficult for me to get past i just can't do it so HERE I GO AGAIN:

because it pisses me off too that haruka just doesn't say anything. i WILL get to ur question i will get to haruka&shintaro post str about the whole shinaya and codependent shintaka shitshow but i need u to hear me out for a second first. YES I KNOW IM REPEATING MYSELF WHATEVER

so i know haruka not saying anything and doing stuff like Lying to takane abt hanging out with shintaro bc he knows she hates him etcetc is rather like. haruka's like theyre both my friends i hate they can't get along :( and i know its written this way because writer doesn't see the issue in question in the first place. like i said i hate how takane is always put at the level of shintaro as if she isn't defending herself. ayano just lets shintaro walk all over her + haruka is either oblivious or too spineless to say anything and takane's fighting for her life LOL like she's not stupid she knows why shintaro is a dick to her. and like damn takane was SO nice to shintaro when she first meets him and shintaro is the one to start their shitty dynamic in the hs days because he decided he hated her right off the bat without even knowing who she was. he just stood in a 2 or 3 hour line to whine abt ohh u think ur such a big shot because all these ppl think ur cool and the funny thing is that takane AT NO POINT EVER thinks this and is the total opposite, she was crying her eyes out the whole day at being exposed and having all these people here. shintaro didnt know shit. like truly what is the reason he did this other than AUUGGHH GIRLS DONT PLAY VIDEOGAMES😡😡😡 HES SO RIDICULOUS Like if he had been mean to haruka too later, I'd let it pass it'd be like ok yeah ig shintaro's wholeheartedly just a fucking asshole and who knows what his fucking problem is but LITERALLY IN THE SAME HOUR shintaro's like haruka i can teach you how to play videogames and be ur best friend lets kiss on the mouth like girl. again gay not only bc i like men but bc i hate women👍or whatever. hs shintaro i fucking hate you youre SO annoying. there is NO OTHER REASON for the treatment💗 and takane sees it and ayano & haruka either see it and dont say anything or are oblivious. ayano bc she's too awooga over shintaro and haruka because (cracks knuckles) care for internalized misogyny. sorry i know he's better than this but lollllll. either haruka is oblivious which HE IS NOT because haruka is a dumbass but in his pov he shows again and again how perceptive he is to the ppl around him. he's just a fucking spineless loser. he doesn't say anything to shintaro because then maybe shintaro will think he's lame. maybe he did say something to shintaro and shintaro was like erm whatever dude lol and haruka's like haha. yeah forget i said anything lol(sweating) but haruka isnt stupid enough not to consider why shintaro is just a dickhead to takane for no reason. sorry seriously what on earth was going thru jin's mind to write shintaro and takane's meeting like THAT 😭😭😭

yes i know theyre fictional characters and this is one of those things i could truly just ignore because it is the fault of the writer not of the, again, FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, and i do this with many things in kagepro but HERE specifically. i can't bring myself to ignore it and i dont wanna. idk, it just bothers me lol because it's an entire dynamic. you're telling me shintaro and takane had that relationship for a over a year at school and haruka just watched the whole time and didnt say anything??? he still went to be buddies with shintaro when he walked in and said all that awful shit to takane first meeting?? yeah girl im holding him accountable (as a character)idgaf. LOL!!! again erm. reminder this is written. im mad abt the sexist writing not The characters who are not real people ok? ok.

sorry maybe im butthurt because im afab🤨and reading this kinda thing is like.i wanna throw up and i get all intense. but imagine being in takane's place and ur guy friend who u think is good is like. just letting the misogynistic asshole in the friend group say shit because its not directly affecting him and ur like wow. ok then. hehe takane getting mad at haruka for always being like aw guys dont fight like she's not defending herself LOLLLL ok sorry ill stopill stop.

.........getting to the actual question. clearly i have my thoughts abt their dynamic. i think.. sorry, i just can't get past shintaro&takane's relationship in general to be able to think abt haruka&shintaro's. when i read ur ask i was like well ofc they have a relationship separate of takane!!! they're bestest friends!!! BUT... when i really think abt it... maybe not LMAOO like yeah maybe im just super like 💗💗takane💗💗 and hate the misogyny too much. and i think shintaro and ene/takane's relationship is SO titular to kagerou project that its impossible for me to ignore it??

i think generally in post str since shintaro is glued at the hip with takane who in return is also glued at the hip to haruka ofc it's never just Them two alone and takane is in fact in the middle. haruka loves hanging out with shintaro though and he loves him!! he loves when he's around he loves hanging out!! he's also excited abt shintaro and takane being besties bc at first he's like YES DREAM TEAM💥💥💥(PERCEIVES THE HORRORS) WAIT A SECOND..

i think since haruka is the one slowly talking to takane abt their codependency and etc he slowly grows to sort of. be annoyed?? at some of shintaro's behavior. because haruka tries talking to him about it the same he talks about it to takane! but while takane's all like "ummm nahhh whaaa no way ermm (holds head) OK MAYBE..." shintaro's like U THINK IM GONNA STEAL UR GIRLFRIEND UR SO FUNNY LOOOOOL and haruka's like 😐THATS NOT WHAT IM SAYING.

but like with ayano, haruka is kind of scary to shintaro. not as much as ayano, bc with her there's the whole thing abt yaki and stuff but haruka is also like. WOW he's alive huh. and also, again, shintaro is sorta pissed off at harutaka as a whole LOL 1. he's kinda down bad for both of them 2. is INSANELY jealous of their healthy & communicative & non destructive relationship in contrast to whatever the fuck he's doing with ayano. LOL!! from shintaro's perspective (subconsciously i cant stress it enough. all the shit he's doing he's rly not. on the loop(LOOL!!!)about the fact he is doing it he's rly not doing it on purpose) its comforting to know that bc of their codependency(that hes also in denial about) takane is as distanced from haruka as he is from ayano, like both their relationships suffer for it so it HAS to be normal right??

so when haruka approaches him abt it shintaro is kind of annoyed. subconsciously. at first he's like ohhh yeah of course you wanna spend time alone with ur girlfriend lol sorry man get some 👍 and haruka's like well that's not the only thing?? it's not so much about me as it is about you and takane bc this is clearly a rly bad dynamic for u guys and i think ur kind of enabling her fears and takane is really overdue in facing her reality and its not helping her to cling on u like this

actually, i think haruka is able to articulate it better to shintaro than to takane bc with takane he's terrified she'll dump him over it. because he is very worried specifically about her mental state and how she's using shintaro as a means to STILL not face her problems and the fact she is alive. but if he were to say this to her face takane would. yeah she'd freak out a lil bit so while he still does it little by little, he thinks talking directly to shintaro should be ok right!! he'll understand where he's coming from, because takane was and is dedicating her existence to shintaro for a sense of purpose while shintaro...what's shintaro's problem, haruka wonders. he acts annoyed but still stays by her. obviously he's just used to her. but it's not as extreme as it is with takane since she's DEDICATED so maybe he will hear him out!

DEAD WRONG shintaro keeps talking like omg haruka ur being just like ayano lmaooo all jealous over me and takane u guys are so funny. shintaro's so delighted he's like THANK GOD ayano and i are normal then, haruka is doing the same as her!! but haruka insists its really not so much abt jealousy at all he's just genuinely worried for both shintaro & takane. and probably grows a little annoyed over shintaro's insistence of him being jealous and refusing to listen LOL haruka: u and takane share a while understandable, deeply destructive relationship u cope mindlessly with... shintaro: u just wanna make out with her and ur mad im around :3

i think haruka even trusts shintaro with why he's telling him all this and why he struggles talking abt it to takane. so shintaro is VERY aware of haruka's delicate self worth and yeah takane too but shintaro also knows in detail abt haruka struggling to feel good enough for her and all that shit. and he feels kinda good abt it LOL shintaro's like... he kinda feels like he can have haruka under control like this. SUBCONSCIOUSLY OF COURSE AGAIN shintaro isnt a manipulative mastermind he's just GOING THRU IT.

basically haruka and shintaro do kinda have their old dynamic but now there's all this stuff abt takane. shintaro specifically keeps trying to default to their old dynamic but that's difficult bc haruka is REALLY living the moment while shintaro is still stuck in all these emotions pulling him back. so of course haruka's eq freaks him out a bit. and again pisses him the hell off that haruka and takane seem so good together while he's fighting for his life with ayano.

so when shintaro is at his wits end and hits on takane (anyone reading this out of context to my other post the anon is referring to, im sorry) it REALLY crashes down. ofc i talked abt takane's side bc that's what it was about but only briefly abt haruka. i think. i think haruka is overdue sending shintaro to hell too. from being such an asshole to both ayano and takane in highschool all the way to his fucked up relationships with both even now post str. i think that's also a nice way for haruka to step up and stop being so spineless. srry i keep calling him this but its such a perfect word to describe him. haruka is so self conscious abt everything his self confidence is so nonexistent and that holds him back from everything but i think the same way everyone is breaking by now he also has his Moment.

like haruka KNOWS shintaro is dealing with a lot. of course he knows. so haruka isnt mean about it, he doesnt yell at him about it like takane does. i think haruka just kinda. grimaces and says he's really disappointed in him. and shintaro's like GOD ID RATHER YOU PUNCH ME IN THE FACE but haruka is just silent and thats so so so much worse. shintaro keeps begging him to just punch him and haruka's like why?? and shintaro's like cuz im ur bro and i hit on ur girl :((((( and haruka's like OHHH MY GOD. DO U EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON RN DO U HEAR HOW DEMEANING IT IS TO REDUCE IT TO JUST THAT?? ITS NOT HS CRUSH STUFF.... UR DESTROYING ALL UR RELATIONSHIPS MY MAN. shintaro's like a.

so hes like WELL...IM JUST...SORRY... LIKE I WASNT THINKING... and haruka's like apologize to TAKANE not ONLY me!! apologize to ayano!!where are THEIR apologies!! what's the matter with you!! i know ur hurting but ALL OF US are, why do u get a pass to act this way!! just stop!!!!

haruka doesn't say much else but i think only that is enough to send shintaro spiraling down + all the other stuff. he's like speedrunning destroying all his relationships its so funny honestly. and i think haruka is the one to point it out to him. he says he HAS been telling him and didnt listen and he's driven it to a point where even he needs a break from him and doesnt really wanna see him rn. shintaro's like 😐meltdown style. haruka's like Closes door on ur face cutely💗

sorry i kinda talked abt so much other stuff here but yeah. 💗👍

#ask tag #headcanons #ayashin divorce

[skye-huntress]

A few weeks ago, I got into a series called The Executioner and Her Way of Life by Mato Sato. Yuri in a fantasy setting, I had to check it out. Since I only just finished reading the recently released Volume 6 of the light novels, I can’t help put my thoughts into a post, otherwise they’ll be rattling around in my head too much. I might take a few more days to sort out my thoughts about the series overall but for now I’m just going to leave my thoughts about the recent volume below the cut. I must warn you though, it’s a disorganised mess down there with my thoughts all over the place.

I suppose I should start with the one thing that is affecting me the most. I make no secret of it, I got into the series for the yuri, even if it’s not the only thing I would end up enjoying about it. So naturally, my heart aches for what happened to Akari. It was rough reading things happening from Akari’s perspective, but the despair and desperation from Menou was especially brutal. That said, I am confident Hakua wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t reversible. I’m not even concerned about the Sword of Salt fragment. What’s bothering me most about it now is that they were just reunited, did the whole special soul bonding thing, and now they’re separated for who knows how long.

I’m presently unsure how I feel about the absurdity of Momo carrying a frozen Akari around in her suitcase. Given the size difference, I wonder if it’s one of those things that are bigger on the inside.

Speaking of Momo, she managed to lose a fight against the one priestess who is physically weak and usually very submissive, and I find that incredibly funny and so appropriate. If you think about it, Momo did a Sahara, assuming someone was weak and she could just beat the crap out of them. I was hoping something like this would happen, though it doesn’t seem like her humiliating defeat humbled her too much. If I’m being perfectly honest, I want Sahara to get one up on her at least once.

We learned a lot about the ancient civilisation and the so-called “golden era”. Seems it was an era full of the mad scientist types, the kind more concerned with whether they could do something with no thought given to whether they should do it. It’s not just the issue of ethics and morality either. They really thought it was a good idea to kidnap a girl from another world and see how many superpowers they could shove into her. That’s as a clear a supervillain origin story as you can get, I don’t even judge Hakua for her actions a thousand years ago. However, the people who did all those inhumane experiments to her and others are long dead, and that civilisation was wiped out. There’s no one left to get revenge on, but Hakua blames the world itself for what happened to her. It’s not as if there aren’t people in her own world who would do the same thing given the opportunity, so she’s really just being selfish and spiteful at this point.

My main issue with Hakua is that despite still considering herself Akari’s best friend, there is no indication she has ever taken what Akari wants into consideration. Akari doesn’t care which world she is in so long as she can be with the one she loves most. And now, the one most precious to Akari is someone Hakua doesn’t even see as her own person, just a thing that she intends to erase from all existence and memory when she’s done with it. And yes, I’m pissed about the headband, too. She is unworthy of Akari’s love.

We learned a bit about the Elders and their different forms of immortality. Flare did say that for Menou to achieve her goal of stopping Otherworlder summoning, she’d have to kill the Elders. They’ll probably be excellent stepping stones for Menou and her allies to conquer before she has to face Hakua who has a combination of what makes each Elder immortal. If Menou can’t kill all four of them, she can’t kill Hakua. It seems there will soon be a confrontation between Ashuna and the Guardian, though I think we should mentally prepare for the possibility that Ashuna will still become the next host, even though I know she won’t make it easy.

I’m not sure what I want to say about Flare. I could never bring myself to like her and her death was a long time coming. Even with all the twists and turns that happened with Hakua and Akari, I could tell it was always going to come down to either Flare or Menou.

There is something that is puzzling me though. We’ve heard a few different versions of how Menou came to be as she is. There’s some inconsistencies between what Flare says and what Orwell said before, that Menou actually picks up on. If Orwell really created Menou, why does she make a comment about Menou’s hometown if she technically doesn’t have one? Either one of them lied, and neither had much reason to, or there is something else going on. There also seems to be some question about where Menou got her name from. Even Hakua admitted her explanation for the name was only a guess, so again, perhaps there is something else going on there. If it wasn’t Menou herself questioning these things, I wouldn’t think much more of it.

Maya is certainly an interesting one. Thinking about it, she has a bit in common with Menou. Both their bodies are basically clones made from a tiny piece of the original and are both closer to their human personalities before they became monsters. But since Maya’s family is dead, it seems unlikely at this point she’ll get any sort of happy ending. Aside from her revenge, she doesn’t have anything else to live for. The fact that the rest of Pandæmonium seems to have it out for her further reinforces the bleakness of her future.

Sahara is definitely the punching bag of this series. It’s mostly her own fault she ended up this way, but still, it is a bit much. I have been wondering about the implications of her being both part mechanical soldier, and part-original sin conjuring. She’s not catching a break anytime soon, but I hope she gets a win eventually.

So Menou is now public enemy number 1, and she’s travelling with several walking taboos. Pretty much every member of the Faust will have it out for her, and I doubt the Noblesse or the Fourth will leave her alone either. Still, Menou is pretty resourceful and tenacious, so if the answers to her problems exist, she’ll find them. She’s gone through some changes herself. She’s more in touch with her emotions since bonding with Akari. And now that it’s too dangerous to carry a scripture, she’s gone to dual-wielding daggers, which should change up how she fights. Still, I’m a bit bummed she won’t be with Akari for a while.

Was that everything? Probably not but this already took a lot longer to put together than I expected. Anyway, my asks are open, I’m happy to talk about this one some more.

#the executioner and her way of life #shokei shoujo no virgin road

[insomniziam]

Yes, because Liam would be 100% fine with them taking a picture of him and some other woman that he knows would go public while being 'engaged' to the teenager.

They couldn't telegraph that this shit was staged any harder if they tried.

Anon no. 2:  This narrative is dumb and exhausting.

Honestly couldn’t agree with the both of you more. Lets go through the timeline, shall we?

Last time Liam and Maya were seen together being coupley (if you can even consider it that) was over a month ago in Texas with her family at a concert:

This was posted by her mother on the 24th, so it’d be safe to assume this would have occurred the with the last couple of days.

A few days later, Liam is in the Bahamas for a Crypto Convention to perform a set at a party:

The funny thing is that Maya was also in the Bahamas with her mother, but she doesn’t post a photo with Liam, nor is she spotted at the party.

She then posts photos of herself in the Bahamas with the ring missing from her finger:

Jump forward a couple weeks of silence and we get another post from Maya back in Texas, again with no ring, and no sign of Liam:

Then, last week she posts another lot of photos, again with no Liam, her hands prevalent - as if purposefully - in almost every photo with no ring to be seen:

People were already speculating in the comments that they had ended their relationship based on the lack of ring, considering how consistently she used to wear it and now it was nowhere to be found (probably back in her grandmother’s jewellery box where she found it in the first place).

Fast forward to this weekend where Liam is seen at another convention, this time in Minneapolis. We get videos of him clearly drinking and enjoying himself. That same night he posts this cryptic message to his story:

“New rules... never drink and pose or rather drink and post. I dunno you figure it out”

I agree with what @redandyellowziam has to say in this story. It’s clear that he’s trying to warn us that something shady is about to go down. 

We also get photos of him out that night, clearly drinking and enjoying himself. But one person seems to stand out a little more than others:

A day later, we find out she’s another one of those American Instagram models (who was casted in his Familiar music video mind you, yet another easy set up) after she posts multiple stories with him making an appearance:

This is where shit hits the fan and I get incredibly pissed off at Maya.

A random account (which hasn’t been active since 2020) posts these photos and tags Maya in them, and she makes this comment:

People instantly jumped to her defence, and came to the conclusion that Liam  was a horrible cheating scumbag with nothing more than this fucking comment to use as evidence.

Liam’s team finally have the brains to come to his defence and release this statement to the press:

Given that the last time they were seen together was a month ago, and the fact that she hasn’t been seen with her ring since, I think it’s fair to assume this was the timeline that was agreed upon. 

My guess is that this was Maya’s last chance to really gain out of this “relationship” and she did it in the worst way possible - by spitting in the face of the very person who had to visibly suffer for her gain. She needed to come out of this looking like the good guy, and in order to do that, Liam needed to be the bad guy, the drunk and cheater.

 So despite the fact that the ON was that they broke up last month, she used this ‘random’ post to her advantage and now has thousands of people believing her (34K people have already liked her comment made less than a day ago) that Liam cheated on her.

As if she was looking for ways to piss me off further, she posts a fucking ad on Instagram stories three hours after leaving that comment:

This bitch has people believing that she just found out that her fiancé was cheating on her with another woman and was devastated by the fact, all the while she’s posting ads for a fucking tequila company. 

To make matters worse, her playing victim worked in her favour:

She had been losing thousands of followers every few days, and within the day that she posted that fucking comment, she gained 12K, because people lack the capacity to do basic research and just believe whatever they read. 

Liam’s now confirmed new ‘girlfriend’ (where do they find these women??) also for some reason gained as well:

Gained 3K followers after posting those stories. 

And, of course, the only person to lose in this situation was Liam:

Lost almost 10K followers in 24 hours.

To make matters even worse, they’ve just announced this new bitch as his girlfriend:

Hired paps to take photos of the “happy new couple”.

Not surprising that he is once again wearing shades to hide his eyes, and isn’t smiling in a single photo, and she’s doing all the work.

Why can’t they just let him be publicly single for one year? Why can’t he just be focusing on his music like you know... musicians are supposed to?

It’s just so fucking tiring at this point how often this same cycle repeats itself.

I think I speak for the lot of us when I say I am fucking done at this point.

Fuck Maya, fuck his team, and fuck this new chick.

#answered asks #anonymous #laya is fake #fuck his team #fuck maya #fuck this new chick #I refuse to type her name #hopefully she is only here for a short period and no one will care to remember it #sick of people just using this guy #and not giving a fuck with how badly its affecting him

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So much from the Nish Kumar show last night. It was amazing. I didn’t write about it right after (aside from this post that I made before getting in the car because holy fucking hell) as it was a bit more than a two-hour drive home. I got home at 3 AM, passed out, woke up this morning and now I still feel so overwhelmed by how cool it was. Here’s the best I can do with writing about it.

There were about ten weeks between when I first saw this show, in New York City, and when I saw it last night in Montreal. I’d expected the main difference to be that he’d have to rewrite the Boris-based parts of the show he did in New York, since, you know, that situation has changed in the last ten weeks. But he actually cut that bit entirely, barely mentioned Boris or UK politics at all. I can understand why. I saw him do a livestreamed thing a couple of weeks ago, and that showed me the jokes he’s written to reflect the current mess of a political climate. They involved saying he hates Rishi Sunak for being the highly successful Asian man that his own parents wanted him to be, and saying we can’t let Rishi Sunak be prime minister because he killed everyone’s grandma via mismanagement of the pandemic. My guess is that while he expected the North Americans at his New York show to know who Boris Johnson was, he was less sure that North Americans would know about Rishi Sunak, so decided to just skip all that rather taking his “Rishi Sunak killed everyone’s grandma” material to people who might have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

So the specific political material got cut, as did a few other things; I think he was more pressed for time at the Montreal show. There were enough jokes that were in the New York show and not in the Montreal show for me to now be sure it was worth going to New York for it, even though I could see him much closer to home ten weeks later. That 17-hour round trip to a city that I did not like was worth it just for the few jokes he put in the New York show and cut from Montreal.

He also added some stuff in Montreal that wasn’t there in New York. There were some Canada-specific jokes. Said Boris Johnson was on the verge of joining our trucker protest, which got a cheer because fuck those people. Asked how the hell that trucker thing happened and if Canada “caught” stupidity from America, which… yes. I mean that was funny but it also barely worked as a joke because it’s pretty much a literal description of what happened. Yes, Nish, we had a lot of people who were influenced by American media and specific American figures who targeted them with an onslaught of messaging and American money that funded their efforts, and that is how this happened. I could draw you a diagram if you like. People who got arrested at the trucker protests were shouting about Miranda rights and the first amendment. They think everything American applies to us. This is why it’s important to properly fund and support Canadian media like the CBC to educate Canadians on our culture instead of having everything washed away in a sea of Americanism. But I digress.

Another bit that was not in the New York show was a few minutes spent talking shit about Ed Gamble and James Acaster, which was hilarious. Earlier in the day, those two had recorded a live episode of Off Menu at that same festival (I did consider getting tickets to that, but they were quite expensive and I’ve only ever heard about three episodes of Off Menu so I figured it wouldn’t be worth it). Nish correctly surmised (I say it was correct, based on the strong audience reaction to him bringing it up) that most people in his audience had been to see the Off Menu recording earlier in the day. He complained that as a brown guy he’s out here telling us how he got PTSD from racist death threats, while his very white friends were discussing what food they like. Called them “a couple of crackers talking about crackers”, which was quite funny. Informed us that they pronounce “papadum” wrong; he was it was supposed to sound more like this, and I guess James does something of a white bastardization of it. Then he added that if anyone chooses bread over papadums they’re racist.

Now, I hope this will go without saying, but because someone reading this post doesn’t see or hear the tone that was present in the room, I’d like to clarify that it was very obvious all along that he was 100% joking. At no point did anyone think he really does resent them for that; sometimes James talks about mental breakdowns and sometimes Nish talks about watching sex scenes in movies with his dad, so just because right now James is talking about food and Nish is talking about racism doesn’t mean that defines their whole lives. The difference in levels of heaviness of their material at that specific comedy festival was just a funny juxtaposition to point out at that moment. I mean, James and Ed probably do say “papadum” wrong. But I’m sure Nish forgives them.

In case anyone in the audience did not fully understand this, Nish ended this by saying, “Of course, those two are my friends, I don’t mean it, I love those guys. I did mean the stuff about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr, though.” And that brings me to a particularly interesting thing that was in this show but not the New York one. To explain, I’m going to quote something I wrote about nine weeks ago, talking about the show I saw Nish do in New York. The initial post was about the bit in Nish Kumar’s 2019 show, when he did a whole rant about how Ricky Gervais is an asshole for doing transphobia and calling it comedy. Here is something I added on to that post after seeing Nish in New York this year:

“I just saw him do his newest live show last week, and he again dedicated a couple of minutes to complaining about comedians who run out of new funny things to say so they just go on Netflix to talk shit about minorities instead. Those minutes ended with the words “Fuck you Dave Chappelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” (For a split second I thought Jimmy Carr’s name was going to come out of his mouth next, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t.)”

That’s what I said nine weeks ago, and that’s how I felt at the time. I sat in that theatre in New York, heard Nish say he does comedy way better than those “edgy” people who think shitting on minorities counts as comedy, saw him get really riled up and on a roll and flow right into angrily shouting, “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” and for a moment my brain was sure he was going to add “fuck you Jimmy Carr”. This was a little while ago, closer to when Jimmy Carr’s joke about Romani Holocaust victims was in the media (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can Google it, or better yet, don’t – if you’ve ever seen the whole “asshole makes a racist joke, tabloids make clickbait articles about it, asshole complains about cancel culture” storm play out, then it’s exactly what you’re picturing), so his name came into my mind when Nish described that type of comedian. I thought he might say it, but he didn’t, and on reflection, I did think “for the best” was a good way to describe the omission. No need to feed the media storm further with “Nish Kumar VISCIOUSLY SLAMS Jimmy Carr in Latest Special” tabloid headlines or whatever.

I don’t know what changed in those ten weeks. Jimmy Carr has not said any new and notably offensive stuff since then. But at some point in ten weeks, Nish Kumar decided to amend that joke. Last night, his bit about how he hates “edgy” comedians who shit on minorities on stage ended with “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais, fuck you Jimmy Carr!” He then said something about Gervis and Carr specifically, since they’re both British. He called them something like “a giggling ghost and his ventriloquist dummy friend” who are making British comedians look bad by doing this kind of shit. And he brought it up again later in the show, saying he was just kidding about his friends James and Ed, but he did mean the shit he said about Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr.

I would say that’s kind of a big deal. I’ve given Nish Kumar credit before for going after Ricky Gervais, since that 2019 show also has an explanation of how much he loved The Office, how he had all the episodes basically memorized, how he looked up to its creator. It’s a rule for life generally that it’s easy to call out people from the “other side”, people you didn’t like anyway, but it’s much harder to call out people who are in some way on “your side”. So I think it’s a sign of good character when someone can recognize bad things in a person they liked, and are willing to say so instead of defending or excusing it.

Jimmy Carr is another level of that. I mean, Nish Kumar was a fan of The Office, and Ricky Gervais is a fellow British comedian, but I’m pretty sure Gervais has been in America for as long as Nish has had a showbusiness career. So on a practical level, Gervais may as well be an American comedian just like Chappelle; they’re not exactly in Nish Kumar’s orbit.

Nish Kumar is much more likely to cross paths, professionally and personally, with Jimmy Carr than with Dave Chapelle or Ricky Gervais. They’re both on the British stand-up (not at comedy clubs or whatever, but they both tour the UK with stand-up shows) circuit and the British panel show circuit. Nish has done 8 Out of 10 Cats and Catsdown. Nish was hanging out with Jimmy in Katherine Ryan’s living room as of whenever they filmed the end of that Backstage show, which was not that long ago. Jimmy Carr was at this same festival in Montreal, performing his own show. That’s definitely a new level of calling out one of his own.

Obviously, the caveat I add every time I give someone credit for something like this is that there are a lot of harder jobs in the world than being a comedian, and there are a lot of braver things to do than talk shit about someone you know on stage. I’m also not pretending it helps anything on a practical level; I’m quite sure Nish Kumar would acknowledge that him saying “Fuck you Jimmy Carr” on stage does not make life better for Romani people that have their genocide trivialized. But still, it took guts to say that. I bet a bunch of people felt that way, but didn’t say so publicly because Jimmy Carr is all over the Britcom world and they didn’t want to cause problems. I’m thinking of that Last Leg episode when Hannah Gadsby was a guest and said Jimmy Carr is terrible to minorities, and Adam Hills and Alex Brooker and Josh Widdicombe all looked very uncomfortable and like they desperately wanted her to stop talking even though I’m sure they knew she was right. It’s fucking awkward to call someone an asshole if you know you work and socialize in the same area. So honestly, credit to Nish Kumar here. That took some guts to say.

Okay, bullet points for some other, quicker, fun observations about the show:

- For anyone who doesn’t know, the main show is about the time that someone threw a bread roll at him because they were mad that he was making jokes about Brexit and colonialism. Then he learned that this incident had somehow made the news, then it really blew up from there, racist death threats occurred, PTSD due to those death threats occurred, stigma about mental health issues stopped him from getting help, but then he finally sought therapy and is now doing better and wrote a show about it. It is a genuinely insightful and hard-hitting show in addition to being amazingly funny and bright and honest, and it’s one of the best pieces of comedy I’ve ever seen.

- I’d remembered the story of how after the show, his friends who were there with him, including Tim Key and Miles Jupp, took him to the pub and they got drunk. I’d forgotten how he said Tim Key made the hilarious joke of apologizing for having thrown the bread roll, pretending the whole incident was a result of Tim Key thinking it would be funny to mess with him by throwing bread. That is such an on-brand joke for Tim Key to make and was a very funny line.

- Nish Kumar telling us his job is 1) to make jokes about the news, and 2) to be a spare in case anyone loses Jason Mantzoukas – also very funny.

- In New York, he said he knows his audience consists of people who read The Guardian and people who’ve recently canceled their subscription to The Guardian because it’s insufficiently left wing. In Montreal, he did the same joke but with The New York Times instead. I can’t tell if he thinks Canadians are less likely than Americans to know about The Guardian (which doesn’t seem likely, as Americans are more stereotyped than we are as being unaware of the outside world), if he thought the joke didn’t go well enough in America and it would be better if he started changing it when he went overseas (also seems a bit weird since the joke got a big laugh when I heard it in New York). It’s okay, Nish, you can talk about The Guardian in North America. We know about The Guardian. It’s a very famous media outlet.

- I have to give Nish credit again for how passionate he was about this, how high his energy was the entire time, how much he clearly cared about the words he wrote and wanted to share them with us. A few days ago, I saw James Acaster force himself to get through a show, then look at his watch and clearly be relieved to realize he’d already done an hour and that meant he was allowed to leave the stage. He left immediately, the crowd pretty much forced him to come back for an encore, he was not happy about it and did a few more minutes before leaving.

Last night, Nish Kumar shouted at us with vigour for an hour and twenty minutes before looking at the clock, and saying oh shit, this was not supposed to go for this long. Then he continued talking for another ten minutes or so, talking faster and faster like he was worried about not having enough time to say everything he wanted to say. For the entire time he was up there, he spoke at a million words a minute, barely took a breath. You could see how much he cared about this, how much he loved what he’d written and the opportunity to say it. He was exactly the same way in New York. I loved that, it made the show so enjoyable.

I don’t mean to denigrate James Acaster there – I made that comparison to show a contrast and make the point that not every show is like Nish Kumar’s. Obviously, the contrast I’ve just described does not automatically make Nish’s show objectively better than James’. A longer show is definitely not always a better show; in fact there’s a lot to be said for tightly written efficient material (“tightly written efficient material” doesn’t really describe the shows that James Acaster or Nish Kumar brought to this festival, but the principle is still true). But in this case, the length of the show reflected Nish’s passion for the material, the way he was so dedicated to it that he didn’t want to stop talking, and that energy really enhanced the experience.

- Okay, here’s the story of what I wrote last night. I dragged my best friend to Montreal for this show. My friend is not generally into comedy, and he specifically describes himself as not liking British comedy, even though that opinion is pretty much based on how he thought Monty Python’s Holy Grail was silly and has not seen other Britcom besides a few things I’ve made him sit through at times. I convinced him to go with me, for the road trip and the day in Montreal. He did end up enjoying the Nish Kumar… mostly. I think.

Anyway, as I said, the venue was amazingly small and we were sitting in the front row. At one point, Nish talked about how everyone in the public eye gets hate, but they’ll get more if they’re more degrees away from the “default”. He then defined the “default” as white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied men. He said something like “And if any of those are here tonight…” Without thinking, I tapped my best friend’s shoulder, because I had in fact brought a white, straight, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied man to a Nish Kumar show. To be honest, he was out of place. He was a jock among nerds. As a nerd at heart who spends most of my life among jocks (due to the sports team that this friend and I have been coaching together for many years, where he is a lovely person who cares deeply for our athletes and his friends, but if you see him on the street he does look a lot like a jock), I figured he could live with that for a night.

Nish saw me tap my friend’s shoulder, and he stopped talking. He lowered his hand that had the microphone, put his other hand on his forehead and laughed. And good people of www.tumblr.com, I do not know enough words to describe what it is like to make Nish Kumar laugh. It’s like making an angel fly. That excitable laugh that comes out generously and too loudly on panel shows and podcasts when anyone on stage says something that gets to him – that got direct at me, and if I die tomorrow I want that on my tombstone. If I die in 100 years I want that on my tombstone. I’m like 30% joking.

Nish asked me if I knew the guy next to me, and I said yes. Nish said oh good, he was worried I might have just tapped a random guy next to me who appeared to fit the description of straight white cisgender able-bodied man. Eye contact occurred. Actually, eye contact occurred a bunch of times throughout the show, sometimes to an extent that was quite awkward, because like I said the venue was really weirdly small.

And at first, I did not want that to happen! At one point he asked the crowd if we knew what that 1965 audience called Bob Dylan when he plugged in his guitar, and I was sitting there thinking “Judas!” Of course I know they called him Judas, that is a famous moment in the history of the intersection of folk and rock music, a famous moment that gets pointed to when fans of folk and to a lesser extent country music argue about what’s a reasonable level of saying “this is a terrible populist bastardization of the genre” versus what is being too gatekeep-y like the 1965 people who got mad at Bob Dylan, and arguments like that are where I live. But I didn’t yell it out, because I could not bring myself to yell out words that would be heard by Nish Kumar. I did not want Nish Kumar’s attention drawn to my existence, even for a moment. But later in the show, when I tapped my friend’s shoulder without thinking and drew his attention anyway, I realized how foolish I had been to resist the opportunity. It was the coolest fucking thing. Holy hell.

Nish Kumar definitely knows I exist. Crops watered skin clear ailments cured angels in flight.