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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

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and other things that happened by the red staircase

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: Like with all events at Saltburn, you take great care to learn all you can about the guests for the upcoming Catton Family Reunion, to make sure you can make a good impression. You and Venetia, however, discover that Felix may be making too good of an impression on his recently un-estranged cousin.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: felix fingering(/possibly going down on) his cousin but its not super explicit, reader having a social anxiety regarding the social event, venetia being kind of a nasty little perv i love her

A/N: 3841 words. this was meant to just be a little something about venetia and reader teasing felix after finding out he accidentally fingered his cousin, something i could write on my phone before bed. which i did but i didn't stop writing for 4 hours and it became too long for just an answer. also because there's a bunch of catton family lore ive invented and put it all in here.

also before any discourse arises, there's a character briefly mentioned here, Marv, who is an old butch lesbian who uses he/him pronouns. he is not trans, but chooses to use he/him, look into queer history if this bugs you, or go outside and off of my blog. you're reading the writing of an agender it/its lesbian, my blog is not a place for queer discourse, it's a place for being freaks about Jacob Elordi and Barry Keoghan.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

It's been a particularly stressful event for you; so much of Felix's family is in attendance and you're desperate to impress them. It had been called a reunion, but nothing at Saltburn was ever so simple, nor so informal. As always you've prepared ahead of time; Duncan and Elspeth, as they always did, walked you briefly through the guest list, however unlike usual, instead of leaving you alone with the detailed dossier of guests, Elspeth herself had sat with you in one of the numerous studies - the lilac one - and gone through in meticulous detail. The family friends they refer to as cousins, the family they refuse to acknowledge beyond a handshake - and why. All the Catton branches and the gossip that haunts each. Things like how it's the first event in ten years that Sir James' estranged, illegitimate half-sister and her family were invited to. She's laughing, and you act like your nerves aren't on fire, like there isn't bile rising in your throat out of fear of the faux pars you could see on the horizon.

"Oh they're going to love you, darling," she assures. The minute she leaves you start nervous crying over the dossier, which quickly becomes an anxiety attack. It's been a very long time, especially since they'd kindly set up this system to alleviate your known anxieties, that you'd been this afraid of a dinner.

None of them can know.

You're almost eighteen, you're meant to be well past this, meant to have learned to cope with it by now.

On the night of the event, Farleigh's the only one looking as queasy as you feel - the family's pitying looks and grating questions have him going for a smoke break almost every five minutes. Still, Venetia's never without a drink in hand despite her mother's disapproving looks, and Felix is nowhere to be seen. At least at this family affair there's a number of people your own age. Many related, but many not - more friends of the family, or illegitimate offspring. Still, you don't want to put your preparations to waste, want to make a good impression.

There's mean laughter from by the fireplace as you find yourself in conversation with Sir James and his second cousin Barty, praising the man for his recent and lucrative foray into financially supporting broadcast television. James gives you and incredibly surprised and approving look, while Barty lights up with delight, claiming that there was hope for the young after all it seemed. Casting a glance to the fireplace, you see a few mean looking teens all watching you with sneers.

Barty asks how you found yourself here, and James pats you on the back before you can answer, claiming you as one of the wards of Saltburn; a good influence on his dear son, Felix. Pride flares in your chest. But you can still hear the teens call you a freak.

Its taking everything in you to not try and find sanctuary in the company of Felix, Venetia, or Farleigh. Its incredibly tempting, considering the abundance of desperate eye contact you and Farleigh especially are sharing, but you worry that if you don't keep face, don't put your information to use, don't remain visible to everyone in the room who you've convinced yourself are even tangibly related to Felix and his immediate family, every single one of them will hate you.

One day you will reckon with how profoundly your upbringing effected the expectations you place on yourself. Today is not that day. So you smile at Mildred Catton - by marriage, second cousin, young widow and now spinster. Well, she has a girlfriend, judging by the way Elspeth had spoken about her roommate of twenty-five years, and she has a kind and knowing smile as she compliments you - so beautiful, what a handsome young thing you are, oh you do remind me of Marv like this, back when we first met, of that's cute, you'd love him. Marv is short for Marvel Elizabeth, the butch woman who lives with Mildred and runs a bike shop and who you'd spent probably too much time looking at in the dossier, his arm around Mildred in her photo, both of them smiling so wide.

You kind of wish he was here. When you share the sentiment, Mildred looks a little crestfallen; you get the impression that not a lot of the Cattons share your feeling.

Still, talking to Mildred helps ease your nerves considerably. At least until you realise that it's been quite some time since you'd seen Felix.

You don't need him at all times... Don't need to know his whereabouts at every second of every day... But you've found yourself trapped in a conversation with a gaggle of the newer, younger, shinier wives of Felix's various uncles-something-times-removed, and one hadn't been updated in the dossier and you greeted her as the wife she'd replaced. So now you're mortified, like a deer in the headlights as they're all judging you, and you know you're on the verge of panicking or throwing up -

"Need to steal our lovely Y/N for a moment," Venetia, your saviour. She slips an arm in yours and doesn't wait for an answer.

"Venetia, dear -" Christie, owner of a failing fragrance business that she desperately doesn't want people to know is failing, but that her husband had drunkenly, forlornly confessed about to Sir James, barely get two truly disdainful words in before Venetia brightly throws over her shoulder -

"Love your dress, matches your roots, talk later Auntie Chris," and you can only imagine the flustered fury on Christie's face as the other women try not to compare the dark dress to the woman's dark roots peeking through her blonde hair. You, however, are gone speechless in your nauseous panic, and press yourself to Venetia's side as she pulls you through the crowd, "you looked about ready to kill yourself like one of those dishonoured samurai," she says quietly but casually.

"Yeah, that was the rough plan," you managed to joke weakly. Your heart was racing; you hated being like this. It takes you a moment to properly focus back in on the moment, and realise Venetia was dragging you along with considerable purpose, "are you okay?"

"I need your robot brain to help me decide if something's funny or just gross."

"My robot brain?"

"You know everyone here because - and I say this with love - you're a freak about these things-"

"Didn't know Iona," you muttered, once again horrified, gaze going glassy as all you can think about is how you called her Misha. Her husband had a type; models from northern countries and very little sense of humour, it seemed. Venetia snapped her fingers in your face, frowning, keeping your mind from wandering too far.

"They got married a month ago, you probably won't even see her again," she rolled her eyes, taking you by the shoulders, leading you from the main entertaining area towards the main parlous, "but the point is, I know we refer to everyone as Aunt or Uncle or Cousin or whatever, but I'm not even actually at all related to like half of them," Venetia pauses, looking at you very seriously, "but you know the difference, right? Like if I pointed to someone, you'd know how exactly they're here?"

"Uh, yeah, of course," it's who you were, it's what you did, "don't you?"

"Not," she visibly hesitates, gaze shifting to look around the room, "not really," she admits, they're all just, you know, family. There's always been too many to bother with the how or why of any of them, unless mum or dad felt it was important for me and Felix to keep in mind specifically," but after a beat she met your gaze with a wolfish grin, "or if it was particularly scandalous." Okay, you think you're starting to get her intentions.

"So who are you wondering about and why?"

The way Venetia was smiling could not possibly mean anything good.

"So," Venetia took you by the shoulders and steered you through the grand foyer towards the stairs, as if on her way to yours or Felix's room. Her voice had gotten quieter, conspiratorial, "I've been watching this unfold all night," she explains gleefully, "and I did think it was rather bold to be looking to get someone in bed at a family reunion, though I supposed that there is a good chance that they're not even related; as we've discussed, family is a rather loose, fond title for many of them here tonight," she's choosing her words incredibly carefully, skirting around her point for dramatic effect, "and," she stops in the doorway by the red staircase; you think you can hear faint moaning not too far away. Venetia's voice is a whisper, "I wanted to give the benefit of the doubt, considering I'm pretty sure I've actually never seen this girl in my life, so I can't say who she belongs to here."

Around the corner there's an attempt at a shushing that sounds more masculine, judging by the whisper of laughter that accompanies it, and a young woman's giggled apology, followed by a breathy gasp, and the faint sound of wood scraping against the marble floor. You and Venetia peer around the corner like the Hardy boys, you ducking down and her leaning over you.

The girl in question is leaning back against the antique, wooden end table at the end of the short hall, head throw back, chest heaving with wanton breathes. Wearing a flowing, green dress that looked almost like silk, but was clearly rayon when you had seen her up close earlier, you knew immediately who she was. More importantly, you were surprised to see someone in a suit on their knees in front of her, beneath her dress.

Alyssa Morelli has seemed absolutely out of her mind with boredom and disdain for this entire affair in the brief few moments you'd spent with her. Like you she was seventeen, and was the eldest daughter of Sir James' estranged half sister. Having barely any information about her, and also trying to focus on not losing your cool regarding that fact, it had made conversation, at least for you, incredibly difficult.

She hated the wine, hated her mother for dragging her along, hated the way rich people talked about nothing, and thought everything about Saltburn, the Cattons, and the entire night was a frivolous display of meaningless excess and wealth. Rich people are such freaks, she'd told you, with a look that clearly said that includes you, and she's finished another glass of champagne with one large gulp and a shudder. For a long moment you'd looked at her - perhaps you could have been a little less unnerving about it, but she'd caught you off guard - as you tried to think of something to say.

"I think you'd thrive at university," you blurt out. She gives you a look like you were some kind of unpleasant bug, having the audacity to continue speaking to her. One of the staff passes with a tray of more champagne, and you pluck two glasses off, handing one to her as you continued, "however I would be fascinated to hear your thoughts on the way our classicist society prioritises and celebrates formal tertiary education" you let your gaze roam, holding your glass in both hands with the tips of your fingers, a dead giveaway of your nerves without you even realising, but for some reason she's still letting you talk, "and the idea of the pursuit of knowledge without that being a financially sustainable life choice anymore if you do it the wrong way. Why celebrate scientists when we just disregard modern philosophers?" You take a sip of your champagne and try and tell yourself to shut up, "I know the answer's 'because you can't profit off of philosophers as easily as you can scientists', but it just kind of sucks, don't you think?"

A long, uncomfortable silence follows.

"I swear at least Felix, Farleigh, and Venetia aren't freaks," you blurted out. Alyssa's shoulders relaxed just a little. At least you were self aware.

"Who?" Its... less hostile. You point out Felix and Farleigh headed out for a cigarette with a few others around your age, and Alyssa sighs, rolling her eyes. She's still clearly got Catton blood in her, her eyes and nose even remind you of Venetia. Still, she headed towards the side door; even her walk seemed to ooze contempt for the night.

Now, watching her, moonlight peaking down the stairs to catch the way she's beginning to glow with sweat, white-knuckled grip on the dark wood and her once perfectly straight, dark hair turning curly with moisture around her face and by her shoulders, you're actually a little glad to see it. At least she seemed to have found one person not entirely unbearable.

You knew all too well how overwhelming and isolating these events could be. As much as you felt you could relate, you couldn't really understand what she'd be going through, her first time at an event like this, feeling that there's people in the room who truly think you and your family outright don't belong. She should take her fun where she can get it, you think.

Shoving Venetia back to give the couple their privacy, you push her back into the parlour.

"Who is that?" Venetia demanded in a whisper, eyes bright. You sigh, shaking your head.

"Alyssa, she hasn't been to something like this before, just let her have her fun," after a beat, you step in a little closer, hands finding Venetia's hips as you attempted to distract her, "you know we could -"

"Alyssa who?" It hasn't worked. Venetia takes your hands, "this is important." There's something that goes beyond mischief in her eyes.

"Morelli," but she makes a face like that's not enough, "Aunt June's daughter." Venetia frowned.

"Aunt June's daughter married one of those Dubai millionaires five years ago and hasn't sent her a single pound or even a message since."

"That's your Great Aunt June- Juniper," you clarified without missing a beat, "she's not even related to any of you; your mum doesn't know who she was initially tied to in the family." Venetia takes a few moments to give you a look of faint, disbelieving awe. Clearing your throat, you looked back over your shoulder as the suggestive noises around the corner were growing louder, "Estranged Aunt June."

Venetia's eyes lit up with what could only be described as malevolent glee.

"So she's my cousin."

"Yes."

"Actually? Blood and all? Not just one of my uncles' weird friends who's been hanging around for decades so now we have to call them family?"

"I'm beginning to get afraid of your intentions, Ven," despite your wary smile, you weren't really joking. Venetia completely disregards this, however, holding your shoulders so tightly it begins to hurt.

"That girl," she points sharply, the kind of intensity in her eyes that absolutely means trouble, "just around the corner, moaning like a whore, getting fingered, tongued, whatever -" she wets her lips in some kind of anticipation, "is my actual, blood related cousin? And you're entirely sure of that?"

Taking a deep breath, unsure of what the repercussions of this all will be, you slowly nod.

"Yes..."

Venetia steps back, has to clap her hands over her mouth to muffle her positively gleeful laughter. For some unexpected reason, this piece of information seems to be some of the best news she's ever received in her life. It almost brings her to tears. After she calms down, you think you hear her mutter something along the lines of I'm never letting him live this down as she fans herself, attempting to calm herself.

"Ven, are you okay?" Still utterly confused about what any of this means, you can't help the concern you feel. Venetia's nodding, fighting back aftershocks of giggles, gazing often at the doorway.

"Yes, I- you're wonderful, thank you for helping me with that-" overcome by another, brief fit of giggles, it takes her a moment to compose herself, "I love you and your robot brain so very dearly -"

"Oh my god~" from around the corner, and another, louder shush. Venetia buries her face in her hands, echoing oh my god as she chokes on laughter once more. When she resurfaces, face bright red with amusement, you take her hand and try to insist that you should give them privacy.

"Yes, of course," Venetia agrees, suddenly trying to appear as serious as she's able, "I just have one other favour to ask you."

"What?" You ask flatly, unsurprisingly wary, watching her struggle not to grin.

"Could you tell my brother?"

The question hangs in the air for a long, confusing moment.

"Tell him what?"

"That Alyssa's our cousin."

"Sure...?" you frowned a little, peering over her shoulders, "I don't know where he is though, I haven't seen him in a while." Venetia smiles like the Cheshire Cat.

Oh... no... she isn't implying -? But Alyssa's timing is unfortunately perfect.

"Oh my god, Felix~"

Your mouth drops open in shock upon hearing that.

"Oh my God," you groaned, pained by the realisation as your face scrunched up with sudden understanding and disappointment, "Felix."

Venetia is absolutely right, he's never living this down.

"You had me prattling on for fucking ages about nothing, just letting them go at it all the while? You could have just asked!" You hissed, already mortified on his behalf.

"You're letting them go at it now!" She crowed quietly, and ah, fuck. Yeah, she had a point there.

Rounding the corner briskly, you cross your arms but at the very least keep your gaze to the floor.

"Felix -" you clear your throat.

"Oh, fuck off," Alyssa, seeing it's you, groans with frustration. There's movement beneath her dress when you glance up; there's something almost comical about knowing what you're seeing is Felix sitting up straighter under there.

"I know that's you, Y/N," Felix had enough dignity to not sound ashamed or caught out. But he should, "just, yeah mate, could you fuck off a bit?" Its not a particularly sharp request, and if this were any other situation, of course you'd obligingly fuck off. However...

"Well don't fucking stop," Alyssa hisses to him, sounding almost embarrassed by the fact that he was giving you the time of day right now, "seriously, fuck off!" She tries to whisper-shout, but halfway through her voice turns to an unsteady moan and her head falls back against the wall again, "OhmygodFelix~" she whines, bringing one of her legs up over his shoulder.

"So should I wait until after you get her off to tell you?"

"Tell him what you little pervert?" Alyssa, furious at your refusal to leave, demands.

"Hey, be nice to them," you hear, vaguely muffled from under her skirt. You have to snort a laugh.

"Thanks Fi, I'll just tell you now, uh," you can't look at them in this moment, fighting off your embarrassed smile at you look to the ceiling, "I don't think this is what your dad meant when he suggested you get to know Aunt June's kids; this might be too welcoming for your recently un-estranged cousin."

Around the corner you hear Venetia cackling like a banshee, clearly having been eavesdropping.

Felix scrambles back from under Alyssa's dress, looking an absolute mess.

"You what?"

"Oh my god." There's nothing lewd about it this time, Alyssa herself sounds absolutely fucking mortified.

----

The next morning, over breakfast, the mood is... strained. Its Sir James who breaks the ice, brightly - though it's clearly forced - commenting on how the night took such an unexpected and unfortunate turn. Felix, who likely doesn't even remember the end of the night considering how thoroughly plastered he got after his unfortunate affair with his cousin, looks to his father very suddenly, the sudden fear in his eyes about what his parents may know hidden by his large, dark glasses. He'd threatened to drown himself in the lake if you or Venetia told anyone, but his memory got fuzzy from there. The hangover that he's half worried might actually kill him doesn't help.

"Such a shame," Elspeth sighed, "I would have thought June would raise them better than that."

"Estranged Aunt June's daughter, Alyssa," you leaned over to Felix to stage whisper the context to him, half worried the paranoia might kill him there at the table. Venetia does however feel the need to smugly butt in and remind him -

"Our biological cousin."

"Apparently convinced her younger brothers to riot and start breaking all the crockery," you finished. Felix frowned in vague confusion, a feeling which Farleigh seemed to share.

"And it was so unnecessary, like she knew it was the first family thing her mom had been invited to in a decade -"

"She hates rich people and thinks we're freaks," you sat back, shrugging, "she told me so herself."

"Who, June?" Sir James sounded downright heartbroken at the idea, so you quickly shook your head.

"Alyssa." It seems to alleviate some of his concerns, but not a lot, and Sir James goes back to his breakfast still looking rather put out.

"Well maybe," Venetia leans her elbows on the table, bread knife in hand that she was using to flippantly gesture with, "there's some rich people that she should hate," her gaze and smug smile lands on you, as does the nonchalant way she's pointing with her knife, right before she flicks her wrist as if pointing at her brother by pure chance, "and some of us who are freaks."

Felix glared down at his breakfast.

"I don't know why we un-estranged Aunt June in the first place," he grumbled mostly to himself, though not quiet enough that the rest of the table didn't hear. Sir James sighed with disappointment.

"I think in future we may have to limit June's invitations to only her and her husband," he says, shaking his head. Elspeth kindly tells him that it's probably for the best.

Venetia, still apparently feeling petty, threw a bread roll at her brother, who hadn't looked up from where he seemed to be trying to divine life's secrets from his plate of sausages. It glances off his forehead, but knocks his glasses loose and into his breakfast. A second later Felix officially gives up and follows suit, faceplanting into his food.

"Oh my god, Felix!" His mother gasps with concern.

Despite Elspeth sounding nothing like Alyssa had the night before, the familiar phrase sets Venetia off, cackling with laughter at the top of her lungs. While the rest of the table is utterly confused by the series of events that have just occurred, you scoot your chair over close to Felix, patting him sympathetically on the back. Beneath the table, he rests his hand on your knee to give a grateful squeeze. When he talks, only you can hear it, resigned and half muffled by scrambled eggs.

"Hate this family."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 27 days

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Let me breathe for you (part one)

Merman!Shanks x reader. This is part one of two.

*****

Walks along the waterfront have always had the power to soothe you, distract your thoughts from any worry or reason for sadness, and put you in a better frame of mind; it is, fortunately, an activity you can indulge in every time you want, since you were born in a coastal town, and your house is just a few minutes away from a quiet, secluded beach you visit regularly.

Today is one of those occasions. You don’t feel particularly sad or preoccupied, but you have just finished sewing a dress -an important project that had kept you busy for weeks, and that the client who had commissioned it had paid quite a sum for- and you decided that a nice walk was in order, to stretch your legs and enjoy some time outside rather than in your tiny workshop at home.

A gentle wind plays with your hair as you fill your lungs with the salty air -a smell that you have always found comforting, for some reason you cannot explain- and walk leisurely along the shoreline, the orderly line of your footsteps on the moist sand following you. The laces of your sandals hang from your fingers; for years you had left your shoes next to a large rock, since it is more pleasant to feel the warm sand under your feet, but after a pair were stolen, no doubt by some kids who had nothing better to do than to play stupid planks, you decided it was safer to carry them with you. Today the sun is shining for the first time after a week of almost constant rain; you lift your eyes to the reassuringly cloud-free sky above your head and smile, aware that soon the coming of winter will force you to cut your walks short and for this reason determined to enjoy your outing today.

The beach is almost a mile away from the busiest part of the town, and the roar of the waves crashing on the shore is the only sound reaching your ears; the beach is empty around you, as you imagined it would be since you have very seldom encountered other people during your walks over the years, and while you’re usually a pretty social person, and enjoy spending time with your older sister and your friends, you equally appreciate moments like this… when, excused from having to make small talk or listen to the discourses of whoever is next to you, you are free to focus on your thoughts, reflect, mentally prepare for the tasks for the day… and dream, even. Dream things you almost feel guilty for, and that you often quickly chide yourself for…

Today is one of those days. You stop in your tracks to pick up a seashell to add to your collection -it is of a pretty red colour. One day, you reflect, you should use shells as decorations for a dress, in the place of beads or frills; you could start a new trend, and gather supplies to use in your workshop during your walks- and then look in the direction the small creature that once inhabited it must have come from. The blue immensity in front of you is breath-taking as usual, even now that only gentle waves break its still surface; you are a more than able swimmer, who fortunately never risked drowning or other accidents, and you know that the sea is a source of food and livelihood for many of the town’s citizens, but no matter how much you enjoy the quiet, private hours you spend on the beach, there are moments you can’t help hating, even resenting it, like you would do with a man who had disrespected you or a friend who had broken your trust. It is absurd -the sea is after all not a person, it doesn’t have thoughts and emotions and cannot be held responsible for its actions the way all men and women of age are- and you have often reprimanded yourself for that useless bitterness, but you can’t help it. The sea has stolen someone you once loved away from you, and you’ll never forget it -or him- for that.

So many years have passed, and you still remember the pain breaking your heart as you observed his ship disappearing over the horizon, pushed along by deceptively gentle waves, as one of your hands held your sister’s and the other waved, even though you knew he couldn’t see you anymore. You don’t remember whether you hugged him before he left, kissed him, told him how much you loved and would miss him; you probably did, because you always did, every time he left, and you sincerely hope you hadn’t forgotten that time, the last you ever could…

It is a good thing the beach is empty, because you have always hated to be seen as you cry, even though it is just a few tears you can -and do- quickly dry with your fingers. You sigh, reminding yourself this walk was supposed to be a reward for your hard work, and that today is in any case too nice a day to waste it with regret and sad memories; you will find a few more shells, you decide trying to distract yourself, for your little nephews at home to play with, and as you return home you will stop at the tea room and treat yourself to a warm drink. Yes, that would be an excellent way to conclude your day…

You are already feeling a bit better as you start on the way back, when suddenly something in the distance catches your eye, something peculiar and unexpected enough it compels you to quicken your pace to reach it. At first you could think it is a piece of wood, pushed on the beach by the tide and covered by algae and other aquatic waste, or the body of an unfortunate animal, victim of an accident or the cruelty of men; but there are no bright red algae, as far as you know, and dogs and cats don’t have long, glabrous limbs, stretched forward as if in a desperate request for help…

It is a man, you realise, the scene in front of your wide open eyes unexpected but too clear to be misunderstood, a soaking wet, completely still man, lying on his belly with the lower half of his body still immersed in water, as if his strength failed before he could fully pull himself ashore. He is naked, for what you can see, probably the victim of a shipwreck, even though more than a month must have passed since the last serious storm, or another accident at sea, who has been able to reach the island’s shores swimming desperately to save himself… or perhaps it is the tide that has pushed his body there, after stealing his breath and life?

There is only one way to know, and you waste no time in covering the short distance that separates you from the man as quickly as you can, before falling to your knees by his side. You observe him for a moment as you leave your bag and sandals on the sand next to you, your eyes lingering on the bright red of his water-soaked hair before noticing that the man is missing an arm - not because of whatever misfortune led him to your shores, you decide, since he is not bleeding and even your untrained eye can see his is an old wound. This poor man must be unable to swim; he must have drowned, you realise, after having fallen, or been pushed, from whatever vessel he was sailing on…

Realising you should check whether he is actually dead or you can still do something to help him, before wasting time speculating, you hurry to shake him by the shoulder, gently at first and then more forcefully. “Sir, are you alright? Can you hear me?” you ask; you can’t be fully sure he speaks your language, but he will answer in any case, won’t he? “Please… please don’t be dead…”

No answer whatsoever, not even a movement or a grimace of pain; you feel your heart in your throat as you pass his arm around your shoulders and gently push him on his back to check his heartbeat, which allows you to give a good look at who you still consider the victim of a tragic, but relatively normal, shipwreck. The man doesn’t look much older than you, andis almost certainly not a native of the island; he has hair of a beautiful, flame-bright red, the agile but strong body of a man used to physical effort… and a large, nasty wound on his left side, a span under his armpit.

You observe it carefully, deeply shaken but able to keep the horror at bay as you try to figure out if there is still something you can do to help this man. You have never seen anything like this wound; it looks like he was bitten, by something very large, which is not particularly surprising given the fact the man was in the water; but even if he were attacked by a shark or another predator, how could he survive, since his impairment makes it impossible for him to swim? Was he attacked before he fell, or jumped, in the water?

You don’t need any knowledge of medicine (which you completely lack, unless being the sister in law of a capable nurse counts for something) to decide whether a person is alive or dead, so you quickly press your ear against the man’s torso, and sigh relieved in hearing his heartbeat, just a little fainter than it would be normal. He is just unconscious, and, you decide, you will try once more to revive him before going to ask for help in any case; you will find someone strong enough to carry him, and soon the man will be well-cared for at the town’s clinic. “Sir, can you hear me? Please, wake up…”

Finally, he does answer - even if not properly in words. “Aahh…” he moans, clearly in pain; with an evident effort, the man finally opens his eyes, brown irises meeting yours.

“Hello.” you greet him, but judging from his reaction you may as well have threatened his life, because the man, startled, suddenly panics; he cries something unintelligible and waves his arm, clearly trying to keep you away. Instinctively you grab his wrist, trying to hold him still to avoid worsening his wound. “Calm down!”

“No, no…! Let me go…”

He does speak your language, you are relieved to learn. “It’s alright, sir. I am a friend; I don’t want to hurt you, but please, you need to calm down, you are wounded…”

And then something appears, moves, in your peripheral vision, and you, in turn, freeze.

You had paid no mind to the man’s lower half, still submerged, focused as you were on his wound and on making sure he could still be helped, but now, as he struggled, you have seen something pop out of the water for a moment… something that looked nothing like a leg, or a foot.

Incredulous -you must be mistaken, that’s the only logical explanation, and after all you barely saw it, for half a second and not very clearly- you force yourself to look back at the man, tense and worried, who clearly wishes he could escape and put an end to your acquaintance. “You are safe.” you try to reassure him, letting his arm go and opening your own hands to prove you are unarmed “I don’t want to hurt you, but you are wounded…”

The man lowers his gaze to the nasty gash at his side and blinks, as if he hadn’t realised he had been wounded until now - or surprised he’s still alive. He looks back at you, still tense as he tries to ascertain whether you are worthy of trust or pose a danger to him, and suddenly stumbles, too weak even to prop himself up on one elbow. “You need to leave.” he tells you, more desperate than forceful… a plea, not an order “And tell no one you have seen me. Please, I am fine…”

“You couldn’t be less fine if you tried!” you exclaim, exasperated; why is he refusing your help, given the clear state of distress he is in? Doesn’t he realise that if left to his own devices he could die before the end of the day? “You are wounded, I can’t leave you…”

And then the man faints again, his head hitting the sand. Frustrated, you sigh and decide that the first thing to do, before leaving to look for help, is pulling him out of the water, hoping he’s not too heavy for you; this unfortunate, stubborn man is already soaking wet, the last thing you want is for him to catch pneumonia. So you lift yourself up and, circling his shoulders with your arm once more, you prepare to drag him towards the beach… and a moment later you are forced to stop, but not out of tiredness.

You were right.

The stranger who stumbled on your favourite beach, God only knows how, is a normal man from the waist up, but further down… he isn’t, at all.

He is a fish. He has a tail - a long, strong tail covered in blue-green scales, shiny under the late afternoon sun, a single limb roughly as wide as the legs of a man of his size pressed together; his caudal fin, split in the middle, is of a paler blue, the same colour as the gentle waves in front of you, semi-transparent.

You know what he is, of course; you had never seen one, you had never imagined you ever would, given those like him are supposed to be the stuff of the legends sailors tell and artists reproduce on maritime paintings, but you still remember the stories your mother told you and your sister when you were younger, and that you still believed in your innocence to be true; stories of a mysterious, dangerous and still playful kin, whose songs could unleash storms and who lived in great cities in the depth of the sea…

“A mermaid.” you whisper, breathless; you don’t even notice you are speaking out loud, so stunned you are “He is a mermaid.”

You feel the urge to touch him - which would be improper, probably, but would confirm what part of you still can’t come to terms with, even though he is right there, unconscious but clearly alive and real, and suddenly you have so many questions. Where does he come from? Who, or what, attacked him? Is he the last of his kind or, more likely, he is part of a more or less numerous species, whose existence is unknown to yours? How come he speaks your language?

What you know for sure, for some difficult to explain reason, is that you need to hide him; this man needs help, and you are the only one who can protect him, taking care of his wound and making sure no one learns of his presence. You have no reason to feel protective of him, but you do, and while you can’t very well carry him home and ask your sister and brother in law to keep him there hidden, you don’t want the town’s sailors to sell him to the highest bidder, or to cut him in pieces to create some miraculous potions, since according to some legends an elixir made with a mermaid’s blood or flesh can cure any illness or even make a person immortal.

(Children’s tales, of course. Or are they?)

Fortunately you are just a few steps away from a small grotto, at the very end of the beach, its entrance covered by bushes; it is hard to find it unless one knows where to look, which makes it the perfect hiding spot for your new friend. Aware that the quicker you get him away from the beach, the safer he will be, you pass his arm around your shoulders and begin dragging him towards the grotto, the short distance nonetheless requiring several minutes of intense work, the mermaid’s body way too heavy for you. In the end, breathless and aching for the effort, you help him lie down on the ground, the domed ceiling above your heads, and observe your new ward, still unbelieving but suddenly preoccupied for his future. Everybody knows most sea creatures cannot survive long on land; what if your desire to keep him hidden ends up further weakening this already debilitated man, or even killing him? Perhaps, besides taking care of his wound, you should keep his body wet, or at least his tail…

Moan.

You cup his face with your hand. “Can you hear me?” you ask, spontaneously dropping the sir and assuming a more informal tone, as if the two of you had known each other for years; as if you were friends “You’re wounded, but now you’re safe, it’s going to be alright.”

“Hmm…”

“Can you open your eyes?”

He struggles for a while, and in the end brown irises meet yours once more. “What… what happened to me?” he murmurs, still clearly dazed; he speaks your language fluently, even though his accent is different from any you have ever heard.

“I found you on the beach, unconscious; you have been bitten… by something.” you explain, and the mermaid again spends a few seconds contemplating the wound on his side, that must hurt terribly; judging by his expression, he understands the gravity of his situation all too well, as well as the fact he’s lucky to be alive “It’s going to be alright. I’ll go find someone…”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You are wounded. If we don’t take care of it, you could die.”

Your new friend shakes his head stubbornly. As he looks at you he seems… not exactly afraid, but somehow reticent; he doesn’t know whether he can trust you, even though he has realised he does need your help and he will probably not survive on his own “No one… no human can see me. No one can know I’m here.”

“But I know. I have seen you.”

“And you’re already one person too many. Please, you need to go; I’ll… manage.”

You softly point out that, wounded and clearly debilitated as he is, he simply can’t manage, especially if someone from the nearby town sees him or whatever bit him is still waiting in the water to finish the job. His wound could get infected, but if you go call your brother in law, a capable nurse who will surely understand the need to keep the identity of his patient secret…

And then, as you are still trying to convince him, you both hear the voices of men arguing, and then a dog barking; they’re still far away, perhaps midway along the beach, but quickly approaching. The mermaid’s sun-kissed skin seems to pale all at once; you hear him swear under his breath. “They found me…”

“Who?” you inquire.

“Fishermen; from your town, perhaps, I don’t know. They saw me swim towards the shore, and they followed me. I thought I had lost them, but I was wrong…”

The men’s voices grow clearer by the moment; you hear one of them ask his friends where has that blasted creature gone. They might not notice the grotto, but if they do they’ll find the mermaid in less than a minute, and you doubt you’ll be able to defend him.

You have only a moment to reflect on what to do; fortunately, it is more than enough. “I’ll take care of them.” you announce as you stand, your skirt and legs covered in sand.

“... what?”

“You just stay here and don’t make a sound.” you order, and your new friend, still uncertain -and how could he feel otherwise, poor soul? Completely alone, his life in danger, forced to rely on the help of a person he has no reason to trust- has the good sense to obey.

You quickly leave the grotto, retrieve the bag and shoes you had abandoned on the sand and put as good a distance as you can from the hiding spot of your new friend; you can feel your heart pounding, but at the same time you are perfectly calm, clear-headed and ready to do whatever you can to help him. A few seconds later, a group of five men, armed with knives and nets, runs into you; one of them is holding a large dog, barking madly, by his collar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” you greet them in your most innocent tone; you have quickly picked up a few shells, in case you are asked what you are doing on the beach, but the men don’t seem to care about your favourite past-times.

“You’ve seen a fish-man?” the one at the head of the small group brusquely asks you.

“Excuse me?”

“A man with a fish-tail! Have you seen him, girl?”

You decide to risk it. “Oh, yes!” you exclaim, trying to remember everything you learnt during the acting classes you attended when you were eleven - all three of them “I think I did, actually! Near the promontory.”

The place you have mentioned to make the men leave is quite far from the beach - so far, in fact, that they pause, unsure if their prey could have actually swum all the way over there in the short time since they last saw him. “Are you really sure?” the dog’s handler asks, raising his voice to make himself heard over the excited barking; you wonder whether the animal, a tracker dog, can smell your new friend’s scent.

“I am, sir. His tail was green and blue, and I saw him swimming just under the promontory as I walked here. I think he was wounded.”

Confirming the existence of the mermaid, when the men had perhaps only barely seen him and could therefore be convinced they had made a blunder and to abandon their search, is perhaps risky, but the details you added convince them of the veracity of your story.

“Let’s go get him, boys!” the group leader exclaims “I bet we can sell him for a million berries and even more!”

They depart in a run, the dog still barking, without even looking at you. You wait for them to have disappeared, shove the seashells in your bag, and return to the grotto, where the mermaid is waiting for you. “Everything is fine; they left.” you inform him as you kneel by his side once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I told them I saw you, but now they are looking for you in a place a mile away. I hope I did the right thing.”

For the first time, the mermaid seems to relax -marginally, given he’s still in danger, but that’s already something; he smiles at you, openly grateful. “That was good thinking. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You can’t stop looking at him, by now aware you are not dreaming and he actually is a mermaid, but still unable to fully come to terms with the simple truth of his existence. The creature in front of you is the stuff of legends, or of children's stories, but you can see him, and touch him, and talk to him. He is real, and that changes the meaning of the world as you know it…

“Maybe I should… pour some water on you?” you ask in the end, realising you have been openly staring for a while, something that being in his place you would find discourteous.

“Whatever for?”

“Maybe… I don’t know. Fish die if left out of the water for too long, I thought… since you’re half-fish… it could be the same for you mermaids.”

The man’s eyebrow arches, even though he seems more amused than offended; the bright red of his hair has lost no shine, even in the relative darkness of the grotto, where the sun rays don’t reach. “You think I am a mermaid?”

You look down to his fish-tail. “... yes? I mean, at least this is how I was taught mermaids look, human from the waist up and…”

“Yes, yes. But I am a male, don’t you see?”

“Of course I do. You’re a… male mermaid.”

Your new friend grins. “We prefer merman.” he explains “Or merpeople, when you want to talk about our whole kin. And it’s very kind of you, but we can remain on dry land for a while before it starts sapping our strength. On the other hand… I should probably get back in the water. It’s not safe for me to be here.”

“But you are wounded.” you point out again, feeling more than a little foolish because of course he knows that already; you wish you could ask him what exactly bit him, because if his kind exists then maybe marine monsters do as well, but you feel it’s more important to keep him safe “And you didn’t even have the strength to open your eyes when I found you. You are still too weak to return to the open sea.”

He looks at you; as you expected, your brief conversation seems to have exhausted him already, but the gaze of his brown eyes is lucid, and intense; eyes you can’t help feeling captivated by. “You’re a doctor?”

“No.” you admit “But anyone could see your wound needs to be taken care of. I… I could do it, if you want, and if you don’t want me to call for someone else. I have seen my brother in law sew up many wounds, and I am a seamstress, I’m quite good with a needle and thread.”

The aforementioned tools of the trade are in your bag, since you often visit your clients at home and it’s easier to carry them with you wherever you go; the mermaid - the merman looks at you, as if testing your resolve, and sighs as he lays down on the ground once more, too weak to even keep himself leaning on his elbow. “I guess the fault is mine; I should have been more careful.” he admits “Are you sure you can do it?”

“It will hurt.” you warn him; you’re avoiding his question and you both know it “But if I don’t suture the wound it’ll get infected, and for all I know your people could be ten times more resistant to illness and injury than mine, but…”

“... it would be dangerous in any case; I know. Very well.” the merman decides, his hand raised in a gesture of impotence; but then he smiles at you, and that is reassurance enough “I’m in your hands.”

The merman tells you that, unlike what usually happens with humans, you can use salt water to clean his wound, which you do, quickly pacing back and forth between the grotto and the shore, since you don’t have a bottle or a basin you can use and you are forced to carry as much water as you can in your cupped hands. Then, it is finally time for you to get to work; fortunately your sewing kit has just what you need, a needle of the right size, that you clean carefully, and more than enough black thread to suture any wound. The merman lies on his good side in front of you, as he observes you preparing for an undertaking you are suddenly unsure you can measure up to. You are an excellent seamstress, and while there is clearly a large difference between sewing fabric, no matter how costly, and a person’s skin, you had witnessed your brother in law at work, with his and the patient’s permission, often enough to know what to do. If only your hands would stop shaking…

“It’s alright.” the merman promises softly; he must have perceived how tense you are, but he looks as calm and relaxed as if the one preparing to tend to him were the best surgeon of the four seas “You’ll do great, I’m sure.”

You smile weakly, kneeling in front of him; your sister must be wondering where you are, perhaps even whether something has happened to you, but even though you would never want to worry her, at the moment you are too focused on him to care about anything else. “I just… don’t want to hurt you more than you already are.”

“Those like me are hardier than we look; I’ll be fine. Just imagine I am a frill you are sewing on a dress.”

The thought makes you laugh; you should probably wonder how a creature who has no legs, and therefore has no way to learn about human society and customs, knows what a frill is, but again, the determination to help him has eclipsed any other consideration. A deep breath, a quick prayer… and you get to work. Your patient remains perfectly still as you sew the two halves of the wound together, betraying no trace of pain or discomfort; you can feel his brown eyes on you, his skin cool but tender under your hands.

A whole day passes in ten minutes; in the end you breathe out, and observing the results of your efforts you must admit you did a good job. Will it be enough? Unless there is a well-equipped hospital at the bottom of the sea, and since your new friend refuses to have a professional see him, you can’t help being still worried for him. What if your stitches don’t hold, and his wound bleeds again, becoming infected? What if whatever is responsible for that wound attacks him again…?

“You did a great job.” your patient says, cautiously examining the stitches with his fingers “Really, I think any nurse or doctor would approve. You should be proud of yourself.”

His genuine gratitude makes a smile bloom on your lips. “I’m just glad I could help.”

“And help you did. Thank you…?”

He looks at you questioningly as he slowly turns on his back, his long tail folded on one side, and it takes you a minute to catch his meaning. “Oh! I’m (name), (full name).”

“That’s a lovely name. I wish I could tell you mine, since you probably saved my life, but I can’t, and I’d rather not lie to you.”

You would be curious to know the reason for his reticence, not to mention what kind of names merpeople give their children, but you decide not to ask. “Do you need to eat?” you inquire instead.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well… you must feel very weak, given what happened and the blood you must have lost, so I thought… I have no food with me, or water, but I can go home and take some, if you want. It wouldn’t take long.”

He looks at you, amusement and a touch of disbelief dancing in his eyes; he has a lovely smile, you can’t help noticing. “You are a wonder, you know?” he asks, shaking his head “You didn’t know my kin existed, right?”

“I had no idea! I might have to pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.”

“As I expected. You must have… a hundred questions to ask me, and instead you’re worrying I might be hungry.”

“Well, I worked so hard to make sure you don’t die of your wound, the last thing I want is for you to starve.” you point out “Also, since you apparently can’t even tell me your name, I doubt you could tell me… I don’t know, how many of your people exist in the world, how you reproduce or if it’s true that the song of a mermaid can enchant sailors and cause storms.”

Your new friend smiles, admitting that he’d rather not talk too much about his people. “I know it’s unfair; you saved my life, you would deserve to ask as many questions as you want, but we have all sworn to keep our existence secret from humans, I guess you can understand why.”

You think about the bear you have seen exhibited at the fair last year, kept in a cage so small it could barely move, starved to keep him compliant, and in the end killed after the owner had offered a modest sum to any man brave enough to fight him barehanded, and the old wives’ tales, who some people still rely on today, that swear that just a few drops of mermaid’s blood can make a person immortal.

“Of course; no one must know you actually exist, otherwise you’d be hunted.” you admit; unfortunately your new friend has been seen by the fishermen you diverted to the promontory, but you are confident no one will believe their stories, ascribing them to the traditional tall tales told by sea-men or the sight of a normal, large fish “I… I won’t tell anyone I have met you; not even my dearest friends or my family. You have my word.”

“Thank you, (name); I think… no, I know I can trust you.”

An unexpected warmth fills you at those words; you know he has no choice in the matter, since all he can do is hope you won’t share his secret with anyone, but knowing he has faith in you actually… makes you happy; proud, even, that you have earned his respect.

For a minute you both remain silent, simply staring at each other, the merman apparently as curious about you as you are about him, since he’s the one who starts asking questions, even though he’s clearly tired. “Do you visit this beach often?”

“I do; it’s my special place, especially when I want to be alone to think.”

“Well, you’re not alone today.”

“I am not.” you agree, and for a moment you’re about to ask him to return, because the beach, quiet and isolated, could become your meeting place, once in a while, and while you had never asked anyone to accompany you there, not even your sister, you wouldn’t mind sharing it with him: a man coming from the sea and a woman born on land, meeting on a place that is a threshold between their worlds. It would be nice; it would be splendid, but of course, you realise with a sigh, you can’t ask your new friend to risk being captured again.

“What happened to your arm?” you ask back, and his eyebrow arches once more, even though the merman is still smiling.

“I thought we had just agreed that I can't answer your questions.”

“But this concerns you, not your kin; and I couldn’t use this information to hunt you down or prove the fact merpeople exist, even if I wanted to.”

“True.” your new friend admits; he grins, as if genuinely pleased he does have something to share with you. “I lost my arm a few months back; it was bitten off by… well, an animal.”

“A shark?”

“They are larger and more dangerous than any shark, and of anything you could imagine; but they live in the depth of the oceans, which means they pose no danger to humans. That day a child I know had ventured in their territory, and I went after him. You can imagine the rest.”

“Oh, God… that’s horrible.” you murmur, not knowing what else to say “That was… incredibly brave of you.”

“Well, I couldn’t let Luf… the child be eaten, could I? And I don’t need both arms to swim like you do, so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice in the end.”

He smiles, as if losing a limb actually wasn’t something to regret, since it was to save an innocent. “Do you have a family of your own?”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

“And I asked you second.” you answer; you’re having fun, and you know it’s the same for him “The answer is no. I live with my sister’s family, her husband and children.”

“And you never think about leaving?” he asks again, and you tense for a moment, because that is the sort of question your sister often asks you, even though in a slightly different sense from the one you know the merman intends.

And the answer is no; you’ll never leave, because you have been the one left behind, and you don’t care if your sister would be fine with it and even happy for you, you won’t make the same choice he made…

“Find a house of my own, you mean? I could, one day, but until my nephews are a little older I want to remain where I am and help my sister and brother in law with them, since they both work out of the house, unlike me.” you explain. Another possibility would be for you to get married and go live with your spouse, but since no one has ever asked for your hand, or even just attracted your attention enough to make you consider taking the plunge, for the moment at least you’re happy as you are “What about you?”

Your new friend tries to convince you he has seven wives and thirteen husbands before admitting he is unmarried and has no children, even though he loves the child he sacrificed his arm for like a son.

By the time he has shared this information, the merman is fighting to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion clear on his face and in his voice. “You should rest for a while.” you suggest; the ground inside the grotto is not the most comfortable of beddings and you have nothing to fashion a pillow for him, but he does need to regain his strength “I can find some wood and light a fire if you want; and I’ll stay watch outside, of course.”

This time he arches both eyebrows. “You have nothing better to do?”

“Than to make sure no one sees you, and warn you in case those fishermen return? No, I don’t think so.” you retort, and then, as he prepares to protest: “It’s alright; I have no urgent work matters to attend to, and my sister won’t need me until dinnertime. Please, be reasonable; the beach is little frequented, but we can’t exclude the possibility someone sees you.”

You said we, without really thinking about it; it came to you spontaneously, as if it were normal - as if you and the merman were used to acting as an united front, sticking together in times of danger. You don’t notice; he does, and doesn’t complain, but smiles gratefully at you and two minutes later he’s already sleeping heavily, his arm bent under his bright red hair, the green-blue scales of his tail catching the faint light of the sun.

The beach remains completely empty for the next two hours, as the warm afternoon gently declines towards the evening. You wonder whether the fishermen are still searching for their prey at the promontory, or if they plan to return to the area they saw the merman in tomorrow; in that case you should come back as well, you reason as you sit on a large rock not far from the grotto, eyes and ears ready to perceive any sign of an intrusion, and make sure your new friend is safe. You don’t even care about the many appointments you have programmed for the day, not to mention you’ll have to tell your sister you cannot take care of your nephews while she’s at work; this is more important. Protecting him… this is more important than anything you could imagine.

You still can’t believe it. A merman, a creature you considered the stuff of legends and children stories, and he’s there, living and breathing, all things considered much more human than you would have imagined him to be, with his easy smile and open gratitude. If his wound heals as it should, he should be fine; strictly speaking his well-being doesn’t concern you, and trying to defend him from anyone who could find and try and take him away could put you in danger as well, but you don’t care: you want to see him return to the sea, safe and sound, and from then on, even though you doubt you’ll ever see him again, any time you visit the beach you’ll look at the blue expanse of the sea and think back to today, and hope he hasn’t forgotten you…

Two hours after the beginning of your patrol shift, you hear him call your name softly from the grotto; the merman is awake, and smiles at you as he rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I was going to fall asleep.”

“Well, you did need to rest.” you point out as you sit on the ground “And fortunately you have chosen the least visited beach of the region, because no one came. Listen, I could… go home to take some food, and tell my sister I’ll sleep at a friend’s place, and then come back…”

“Out of the question.”

“The decision is mine, not yours. I can also take an ointment out of my brother in law’s cabinet, something to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected…”

“(name)…”

A moment later, a large, callous but gentle hand has taken yours to bring it to the merman’s face; he kisses the back, something that for your people has gone out of fashion at least a century ago and that has the power to make you blush furiously, and lose the power of speech. There is nothing lascivious, or even just romantic, in that gesture, but the gratitude it expresses is intense enough to move you.

“I hope your friends and family know how kind and generous you are.” your new friend murmurs; he’s still smiling, his messy red hair brushing against your hand “Thank you, (name); I really don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t found me. I will never forget you.”

“And I will never forget meeting you, that’s for sure. But I need to stay…”

“No, you don’t; do you really think those fishermen would return at night? I’ll be fine, and you have to go home to your family. There’s no need for you to spend a night in the open.”

You negotiate for a while, and in the end you accept to leave, promising you will be back tomorrow morning as early as you can, bringing the ointment and something to eat for him. “Err… what do you eat, exactly?” you ask, wondering which one of his two halves determine the sort of food he can ingest. On the other hand, a merman can’t very well hunt for game in the woods or farm cattle to produce milk and cheese…

“I’d really like a whale steak, thank you.”

“Sorry, market day is on tuesday.” you answer, feigning regret, and a moment later you are both giggling.

“Some bread and water will be more than fine. Now go, (name), I don’t want your family to worry.” he urges you, and you prepare to leave, retrieving your things and making sure to leave no trace of your passage in the grotto.

“Please, take care of yourself.” you tell him; there is probably no more obvious thing you could say, but you can’t help it “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He simply winks in return, looking at you until you disappear out of his shelter, and you have to force yourself to walk, every step more difficult than the last, your determination to go on rather than turning back and spend the night at the grotto, whatever your new friend may think about it, quickly dissipating.

Leaving him is hard. Painful, even, as if you were letting go of something precious; and despite the relative security of the place you have left him at, part of you fears that is exactly what you are doing.

If your sister notices there is something weird in you that night -specifically, that she and her husband need to repeat every single word they tell you because you are clearly not paying attention, and you’re so distracted you have put sugar instead of salt in the soup, ruining the dinner for the entire family- she apparently decides not to mention it. But on the next morning, when she sees you head towards the house door at the crack of dawn -you have tried to be as quiet as you could, but having two young children seems to have somehow sharpened her hearing- she takes your hand in hers and asks where you are going.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.” you answer, holding your bag protectively against you, heavy with food for your friend you have taken from the pantry: a water bottle, a whole loaf of still soft bread and two apples. You also hope your brother in law won’t check his supplies cabinet soon, because he would find his stash of bandages and ointment have drastically decreased “You don’t need to worry, I’m not in danger or anything; but there is something I need to do.”

“Can you at least tell me how long you will be gone?”

“I don’t know.” you admit; if the merman’s wound hasn’t gotten infected there is not much more you can do for him, and the sooner he returns to the sea the safer he will be, but you still hope you can… spend some time together, talk, like you did yesterday. You won’t ask about his people, if there is an even slight chance that could put him in danger, but at the same time there is so much you want to know… about him “Please, don’t ask; I’ll be safe, I promise.”

She looks at you, trusting but still worried for your sake, wrapped in a shawl she inherited from your mother; this is why, perhaps, you are suddenly reminded of her as your sister looks at you. Then, suddenly, she smiles, and “(name), are you going to meet a man?” she asks.

“... what?”

“You are! I should have known. You were clearly distracted last night, and I heard you sing to yourself as you washed the dishes, which is something you only do when you are happy. Have you met recently? Or is it someone you already knew?”

“No, I… it’s not what you think.” you try to explain, suddenly embarrassed for some unfathomable reason; the truth is you are going to meet a man, strictly speaking, but no matter how much you trust your sister, you can’t tell her about him “It’s not… that sort of situation.”

She gently reassures you she doesn’t mean to judge you or to pry, and then mentions that in the afternoon she will accompany the children to visit a family friend, and her husband will be at work. “You can… invite your friend over, if you want. I’m so sorry you don’t have more time for yourself, since you help us so much with the children, perhaps it’s our fault if there is no one important in your life…

“There is someone important in my life; you, and your family.” you quickly point out, not wanting her to feel guilty for a situation you have embraced willingly. Mostly. “You know I love taking care of the children, and I like my life as it is now. Listen… I have to go now; you really don’t need to worry, so please don’t try and stop me.”

Still unsure, your sister nonetheless respects your wishes, and a moment later you are meeting the rising sun as you run down the still empty streets of the town, your heart heavy with dread and excitement both.

When you finally reach your destination your heart is ready to burst, even though the long, hard run is only partially responsible; as you expected -and hoped- the place seems deserted as usual, but you still walk from one side of the beach to the other, making sure the men you were able to mislead yesterday did not return to ambush your new friend.

Your fears assuaged, you finally approach the grotto, from where no sound can be heard. “Hi… it’s me, (name).” you call softly as you reach the entrance; you feel… trepidation, a feeling you have had very few occasions to experiment before and that you can’t explain; it reminds you of the emotion you saw on your sister’s face on the day her husband came to the house to officially ask for her hand “I have the food, and something for your wound. How do you…?”

The words die in your throat; and a part of you dies as well, when you find yourself staring at the inside of the grotto, completely empty. For half a moment your heart is seized by terror as you imagined the fishermen, or whoever could have stumbled upon him and realised the large sum of money he could be sold for, who kidnapped your friend taking advantage of the fact he has no way to run - literally; and then you see something on the ground among the rocks, in the exact spot you sat on yesterday to sew up his wound.

A flower - a small but pretty little thing, picked from one of the bushes covering the entrance of the grotto and left there as a tiny, heartfelt gift, and next to it, the briefest of messages left in the dirt, using the writer’s finger as a pen.

Thank you

It doesn’t say good-bye, but the intention is evident. The sea’s roar fills the air, but perhaps you’re the one who is screaming, in your heart at least, the disappointment so intense, unexpected and painful that you are sure you can feel your heart break in a thousand pieces, a figure of speech that has never felt so real. A moment later you run out of the grotto towards the shore, hoping against hope he lingered, despite the danger, that he waited for you to come as he had promised, to say farewell. Despite the sunny sky above it the sea is rough today, high waves rising from the blue expanse and crashing down on the beach. But there is no bright red head peeking through the foam, no hand raised to wave good-bye.

He left. He left without waiting for you, and that is what pains you the most. In all fairness, he never actually said he would wait (and how could you not think about it? Why didn’t you make him promise he would, to be sure you could see him once more at least?) but you can’t help feeling disappointed, even betrayed, like a bride abandoned at the altar. He did ask you for food, and approved when you said you would bring an ointment for his wound; and it’s not like you arrived late, since you had promised to come at dawn and the sun has barely appeared above the horizon behind the sea - a breathtaking scene you still can’t appreciate. Did he simply wake up this morning and decided he felt strong enough to swim, the longing for home making him overlook the fact you would arrive soon expecting to find him there? Or he had decided your first meeting would be the last as well from the start, and left deliberately before you would come?

Whatever the reason behind it, the truth is you have lost him - you’ll never see the merman again, and that grieves you more than you could explain in words, even though you only spent a few hours together and you had always known he would have to return to the sea soon. You had nothing to gain from that unexpected acquaintance, berries least of all, and still you feel as if you had lost something precious, something special that would have made your life richer nonetheless, that you can’t help grieving.

Your legs hurt after the long run from home, so you let yourself fall on a large rock, from where you contemplate the vast blue expanse, under which your new -and lost- friend is now swimming happily, having left the dry world, and you, behind him.

Why did you leave? I wanted to say good-bye at least. If you were actually grateful, if you actually cared, you would have waited for me…

That is what pains you the most, even though you could never admit it, and it makes you feel more foolish than any love-stricken young girl; the fact that judging by his actions at least, and despite the message he left, he didn’t care for you. You spent a sleepless night, thrilled about the prospect of seeing and talking to him again, and he left, for all you know without a care for you and your efforts. You can’t blame him for being anxious to return home, and you’re happy he had recovered from his wound enough to crawl to the shore and swim, but still… he could at least have said good-bye.

But after all, why am I surprised? In the end, everybody leaves. In the end, no one ever stays for me.

You can feel tears filling your eyes, but you angrily order yourself not to shed them and to stop being foolish, because he owed you nothing and you have no objective reason to feel the merman has abandoned you, no matter how your heart says otherwise.

You remain on the beach until you’re sure you’re in control of yourself once more, then you return home, just in time to help your sister prepare breakfast and send the children to school. When she sees you return, disappointment and heartbreak having taken the place of the excitement she had seen on your face an hour before, she assumes the worst.

“What happened?! (name), did… did someone hurt you? Were you…?”

“No, no; I’m fine, just…” you sigh, both unable and unwilling to explain the reason for your distress; unable and unwilling to explain you feel just like when he left, and you had forgotten how terrible a sensation it is “Don’t ask, please; but I’d really like a hug, if you can.”

She can, and you let yourself feel comforted by her solid presence and quiet, tacit acceptance; reassured nothing terrible has happened to you, and having known her share of heartbreak before meeting her husband, your sister holds you in her arms and murmurs she’s sorry and everything will be alright, and obviously she’s right, but it hurts, and you know already no matter how happy and rich a life you will have, you’ll never forget this disappointment.

TAGGING @alucardsdaddyissues and @luuffyswife. Thank you so much for asking!!

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Red-Haired Shanks #Shanks #Shanks x reader #Red-Haired Shanks x reader #Peter Gadiot #Bellona's stuff

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surftrips · 10 months

Text

butterflies — part six.

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: after returning home from college for the summer, y/n runs into rafe cameron and the two form an unlikely relationship.

word count: ~ 1000

a/n: i was listening to taylor swift’s lover album while writing this which will become very obvious towards the end haha. only a few more chapters left! masterlist.

Rafe’s not even sure how Emma came back into his life. He’s convinced one of his frat brothers saw him moping around and called her up, assuming (incorrectly) that he was still hung up on her.

In reality, Rafe was still trying to get over you and how everything went down. It wasn’t ideal, and he was miserable on most days, but he still believed that leaving you alone was the best thing he could’ve done.

That is, until he found out that Emma had been lying to him.

To backtrack, she had simply showed up at the golf course one day to announce that she was in town for the week.

“Emma? What are you doing here?” he had asked.

“My father’s here on business, thought I would tag along. Maybe see a familiar face… and I was right,” she winked.

Rafe could hardly believe it. Here was this girl who had broken his heart, reentering his life as he was going through yet another heartbreak.

But heartbreak makes one lonely, and it was unfair for him to refuse Emma’s company under the premise that he was “taken” by you, because he wasn’t. Rafe knew he had to move on eventually, he just wasn’t expecting to do it with his ex-girlfriend.

She’s only staying for a week, Rafe thought to himself. It’s totally fine that she’s sleeping over. And we’re going out to eat together. And people on the island are starting to speculate.

To make things clear, Rafe and Emma are not sleeping together. They’re not even holding hands. The furthest they’ve gotten is a side hug and the occasional hand brush, courtesy of Rafe’s boundary settings. He would probably die if you saw him and Emma out in public being touchy with each other. As for everyone else in town, he didn’t care who saw or what they thought.

Even after a month, you were still the only person in town he cared about.

Unfortunately for him, and maybe purposefully by Emma, one week became two. Two became three. Soon, she had her own place at the Cameron dinner table.

“So, are you like Rafe’s girlfriend now?” Wheezie asked Emma once.

Rafe coughed, “Oh, no-”

At the same time, Emma responded, “Actually, I was his girlfriend last semester. We just took a little break, didn’t we, Rafe?”

Emma smiled sweetly at Rafe, who, refusing to start any discourse in front of his family, simply nodded.

Sarah was frowning.

—

Later that night, Rafe revisited the conversation Emma had with Wheezie at the dinner table.

“Listen, Emma, I don’t know what we are or even what we’re doing right now, but I don’t think it’s dating. Do you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think we’re just friends either. There’s too much history between us,” she said.

“But that’s just it,” Rafe sat up. “It’s too much history to get past, how are we supposed to just move on like nothing happened? How am I supposed to move on like you didn’t break my heart?”

“Rafe, I’m here now,” Emma said quietly. “I’m sorry I hurt you, you know I loved you.”

“Did you? Did you love me or did you love being with me?” Rafe’s voice was growing louder, he couldn’t help it. “Because when push came to shove, you didn’t fight for me. You let me go.”

“Look, are you talking about that guy you saw me with after the breakup? Because he meant nothing to me, he was just a rebound.”

“Great, like that makes me feel better. Emma, what are you really doing back here?” Rafe sighed.

“I missed you,” she murmured. “I didn’t actually expect to see you when I came here with my dad, but I really, really wanted to. And when I did, I was so happy, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I just want to be back in your life.”

Rafe felt as though the universe was playing a trick on him. A few months ago, he would’ve hung on every last word that came from Emma’s lips. Now, they all sounded like empty promises and half-hearted lies.

“You deserve better,” was what you had told him at the beginning of the summer. He didn’t believe you then, but it seemed so much clearer now.

“Emma, I can’t do this again. You know it’s not going to end well,” Rafe began.

“Is this because of Y/N?” Emma interrupted.

“What? How do you know Y/N?” Rafe felt his heartbeat quickening at the mention of your name.

Emma stammered, “I-I heard Wheezie and Sarah talking about her.”

Now, Rafe knew Emma was lying. Ever since your fight, his sisters had been careful not to mention your name around the house.

“Please, no more lies.”

“Fine,” Emma’s features hardened. “She may or may not have called you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Anger was now radiating from Rafe. “When?”

“Like last week, I don’t know,” her voice trailed off.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important!” she said defensively.

“It’s not up to you to decide what’s important and what’s not!” Rafe put his hands up to his face in frustration, looking around for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling her back,” he said. “You should leave. Goodbye, Emma.”

“Rafe-”

“I’m serious. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

The two were quiet for a moment. Rafe trying to stabilize his heart rate and Emma trying to gather her thoughts.

“Fine, I’ll leave. But can I ask you one last thing?” She looked on the verge of tears.

“Yeah.”

“Do you love her?”

Rafe used to think love was burning red: violently passionate, ready to explode at any given time. But he was wrong, it’s golden, like daylight.

“I think I do.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled, a real and true Rafe Cameron smile. The one that you had fallen in love with.

—

TAGLIST: @holy-macncheese-balls @everythingmarveltopgun @maybankslover @totallynotkaibiased @allsmilesreally7 @kys4-20 @golden-tangled-earphone @siesie2 @palmwinemami (let me know if you want to be added!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x you #butterflies fic

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

Note

Good morning/ evening! My name’s Sam and I’m currently a film student hoping to get into freelance writing. I’ve got a couple questions if you don’t mind (hoping you haven’t already answered them and I just missed them).

When you first starting making your own films, did you have already have thick skin for any critics/ bad reviews? Or is that something you grew over time?

Also, for your production company, do you hire interns and PAs or do you prefer filmmakers with more experience?

Thank you!

To your first question, I do not have a thick skin in that area AT ALL and never have. I don't know many people who do.

I'm often approached by fans who will talk about what a project of mine means to them, or I find a review or think piece online where the author really connected with my work. I want to let that feedback in, because it's validating. But letting it in means letting ALL of it in, even the negative. I don't really get to pick and choose. Once I decided to let myself react emotionally to other people's feedback, those gates are open I've got to accept whatever comes through.

I take my work very seriously, and tend to pour my heart and soul into it. We make these things because we love them. It can literally take years of daily work to do. When people love it, it feels great. When people don't, it hurts. There's really no way around that.

Film criticism has, like a lot of things, devolved over time. I was a massive fan of Robert Ebert, who was thoughtful and sophisticated in his critiques (most of the time), and tried to approach each movie he watched on the film's own terms - from the perspective of "how successful was this at achieving what it set out to do?" I see a lot of criticisms today that don't do this, and instead are lamenting what a movie is or isn't, saying things like "I wish this was more..." or "This isn't good because I wanted it to be something else."

"I wanted a ________ and what I got instead was ______ so it sucks."

The other issue is that loud, sensationalized vitriol gets more clicks. Negative reviews, especially brutal and callous ones, get more attention than positive ones. I've gotten to know and befriend some professional critics over the years, who have all told me that the positive reviews don't generate the audience reaction quite like the negative ones. People enjoy watching things get beat up. We reward the wrong kind of discourse, and that isn't unique to film criticism - it's everywhere. That's just a symptom of our culture.

One of my great frustrations is how we assert our opinion as objective truth. There's nothing more dangerous than tweeting "I liked ______ movie!" The comments flood in about how you're wrong, how it sucks, blah blah blah. People think their own taste is somehow factual. If someone says "I had a fantastic steak dinner last night and I loved it," we don't say "you're wrong, steak sucks". We understand the concept of taste when it comes to other things we consume, but when it comes to entertainment each one of us thinks we're the ultimate authority.

For myself, my producer and my wife have long discouraged me from reading reviews. I still can't help it. It's not healthy though. I can scroll past a dozen positive ones, and they evaporate in my mind, but I read one scathing thing and it sticks with me for days. There is one particular review of MIDNIGHT MASS that is one of the most baffling and frustrating things I've ever read, as the author appears to have misunderstood just about every aspect of the series, and drawn the angriest, most misguided, most erroneous conclusions. I read it with my jaw on the ground... "but they're objectively wrong. That isn't what happens, and that isn't what the show is even about." But what can I do? Who am I to say their experience of the show is invalid? They feel how they feel, and that's fine. That's okay. It has to be.

So your skin doesn't get thicker, it is a bizarre emotional experience to put something personal out there into the world and see the gamut of reactions. But at a certain point you have to remind yourself that it's impossible to please everyone, and that these projects don't belong to the filmmaker - they belong to the audience, and each and every one of those experiences is unique and valid. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned, and perhaps the critique can help you grow as a filmmaker.

I have similar feelings when I see someone trashing someone else's work I happen to love - for example, I remain baffled by people who didn't like EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE, but that doesn't mean anything. It didn't work for them, that's all. Nothing works for everyone.

I have found over the years that I respect and appreciate analyses and criticisms that take this more personal point of view, and talk about their own interaction with the work as opposed to just dismissing it outright. When someone says "this movie didn't work for me," or "I didn't connect with it," or "It just wasn't my cup of tea," I have a much easier time taking it seriously. It's changed how I talk about my own reactions to movies or shows that I didn't respond to. And I found that it's made it much easier for me to enjoy things even if they aren't quite for me. Instead of being reactive and saying "it sucks" or "I hate this," I've gotten better at realizing it's not a binary experience - I can look at what DOES work for me, and I can appreciate it, even while other elements might not.

It makes for a much more nuanced discussion, and helps me grow. Sometimes, though, it's just the wrong thing to watch on the wrong day, and that's fine too. Maybe that makes it a little easier. If I step out of something and just really don't enjoy it, it helps remind me that it's not personal. Clearly, other people DO enjoy these things, sometimes I'm very much in the minority. And when that happens, I can say "oh, it's not so bad if someone hates a movie I made, or a show, or whatever. Life's too short."

But I long ago decided I'd never say anything negative about someone else's work in public. I know too much about what it takes to make a movie, and I'm not a critic. I'm a filmmaker. This town is too small, and there is zero upside in dragging another filmmaker's efforts. On the rare occasions when I do see another filmmaker indulge in that behavior, it is always a terrible look. And it can have real-world consequences - there are a few filmmakers who I've seen publicly slag off other people's work, and I quietly decided never to hire them. Like I said, it's a small town... and most of us read what people say about our work.

We should get back to that work, remember how lucky we all are to do this for a living, and leave that kind of thing to the critics.

#filmmaking #criticism #boy do I miss Roger Ebert

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inkblackorchid · 1 month

Text

What the hell happened with Crow: an autopsy (Part 3)

Trying my absolute damnedest to finish this one and part four sooner now that I've finally covered the Pearson backstory. *Ehem* Hello again! I hope you're ready for more yelling about a certain spiky-haired Blackbird aficionado, because I sure am.

To get some things out of the way first, though, here come the usual disclaimers:

This is part three of a series of posts about hpw Crow's character was handled during 5Ds' whole run. You can find part one here and part two here. Reading them technically isn't required, but things sure will make a whole lot more sense if you do. (Bring snacks, they're long.)

This post isn't meant as a Crow hate post, nor is it meant to convince people who didn't vibe with his character to change their mind. This is my very long winded-attempt to analyse the writing decisions surrounding his character as best I can, without too much bias. That said, full disclosure, I do personally like Crow, so there's a good chance that will shine through whether I want it to or not. But also, I'm trying to have fun here, so please cut me some slack.

In case you haven't read my previous Crow posts (no shade there) and/or still believe the many, many production rumours that have been haunting the 5Ds fandom since the show's original run, please let me burst your bubble(s) with some insanely comprehensive research by someone over on Reddit (thanks again to @mbg159, who's also here on tumblr): No, Crow was not meant to be a dark signer, or the final boss of season 1, and his spike in screentime has nothing to do with his cards. And also, No, Aki didn't get less presence in the narrative because her VA got pregnant. What if you don't have the time to read either of those long posts? In that case, please take away this simple, very easy rebuttal of why the above theories are bullshit: Their would-be "key points" don't line up with the 5Ds production timeline. At all. Not even vaguely. So please, ditch them, let them die, seeing them still talked about makes me feel like I'm gonna break out in hives. And for the love of god, don't use this post or in fact anything else I post to pit Aki and Crow against each other. Both characters have their strengths and their reasons to love them. I am not the least bit interested in starting any character discourse. So please, spare my sanity. Ok? Thank you.

And now, we can get to the good part at last. In my previous post in this series, I stopped my analysis at episode 95, a.k.a. part two of the Pearson backstory. In this post, I will thus be picking up right after, at the very start of the WRGP—with the Team Unicorn match. The goal for this post is to analyse Crow's part in this particular arc, then provide some food for thought/ideas on how things that rubbed some people the wrong way could have been improved.

More below the readmore, and I give you not just my usual warning, but an extra warning, too: The universe will not let me write short things, so tread with caution, stay hydrated, and expect a veritable dissertation below, because this post feels long even to me, who has long since lost her sense of length when it comes to text. (But I'm well aware this is the result of me refusing to split the WRGP part into two separate posts, so I take full responsibility for that.)

Since we left off right after I chewed through all the issues with Crow's rather belated backstory and especially Black-Winged Dragon last time, we jump right into the thick of things now, with episodes 96 and 97, which serve as the preamble to Team 5Ds' first WRGP duel against Team Unicorn. Crow only gets two major things to do during this short stretch of episodes, the first being that he's Team Unicorn's gateway into roping Yusei into a duel during practice, which helps them set up a ruse that baits the 5Ds gang into sending Jack as their first wheeler because they think Jack's deck is best suited to countering Andre's—which, as it later turns out, it is not.

(Arguably the screenshot where Crow gives off the strongest Youngest Sibling Vibes during the entire show. Look at him, all chastised.)

Crow's second role is an odd one that I argue only he out of the main three guys could fulfill at this point: He's the one to get injured right before the Team Unicorn match, rendering him unable to compete, which leads to Aki offering to take his place for that particular match.

(Pictured: Bird Boy regretting all his life choices up until that point simultaneously.)

Here's the first moment I have to talk about in greater detail. See, the thing is, I don't know what the fandom consensus on Crow getting injured here is, but I argue that this moment was a (rare) strategic decision made by the writers at this point. Crow's injury accomplished several things: 1. It sets up the mystery of why his back wheel locked up out of nowhere, which is later paid off through Team Catastrophe's shenanigans. 2. It organically allows Aki to take his spot without introducing any argument about which of them is "worthier" of having that third spot. 3. Through this, it also allows him to actually bounce off Aki for once (a point I will come back to below, during the Team Catastrophe section). And 4. It allows the show to (TECHNICALLY) pay off the setup they did in letting Aki get her turbo duelling license and train with the boys. (Generally, Crow's and Aki's character writing intersects a bit during the pre-Diablo incident WRGP section, something I'll touch on below.)

Moreover, I think this is also the only match where they could have done something like this, and the reason for it is very simple: Team Unicorn are one-off opponents whose presence in the narrative is only relevant as far as it concerns the WRGP, and they are also one of the first teams the 5Ds gang faces. If we think about the opponents Team 5Ds has after this, it becomes very obvious why Crow could only be injured during this duel: If they had tried pulling this stunt later, it would have forced the writers to pull Aki centre stage during a much more plot-relevant duel than this one (which they were apparently allergic to, but let's not go there), not to speak of the fact that it would have forced them to sideline someone they were definitely trying to sell as the third portion of their protagonist trifecta, which would have probably been awkward. (If not for the fact that they literally did this to Crow later in the show, but I'll get there. Yes, I know there's a lot already that I'll still be "getting to".)

The thing is, whether or not it feels like an awkward writing choice to make so early in the big tournament of this arc (you be the judge of that), Crow's injury finally allows him to have a few interesting character moments for once. For one, there is his immediate disappointment about being forced to stay on the sidelines. Aside from the fact that this is a human and relatable reaction to his injury, it stings even more for the character than it does for us as the audience, because Crow got a moment where the Satellite orphans he previously took care of cheer him on for the tournament literally within the same two Team Unicorn preamble episodes.

(Say what you will, this is just stupid cute.)

So when Aki eventually offers to take his place during the match, he's understandably apprehensive—and again, this is human. It may seem mean in the moment, but from a character writing standpoint, it's a natural response. Plus, it's certainly more interesting to watch the group have a bit of conflict among themselves, rather than everyone immediately jumping straight to acceptance. It introduces tension, and, for however brief a moment, raises the question of whether Crow might refuse to let Aki take his spot. This is also the point where Aki and Crow's character writing officially intertwines, at least for the stretch of episodes between the Team Unicorn duel and the Team Catastrophe duel. And you know what? Say what you will, but I think it does a world of good for both of them. The 5Ds cast, as lovely as it is, doesn't get a lot of room to bounce off one another where it concerns personal matters anymore, once the WRGP starts. Arguably, they get little time to bounce off one another outside of plot-related discussions at all once this portion of the show comes around. The characters are treated as "fully developed", and thus, the writing largely doesn't take the time to show us how the group naturally interacts with one another anymore, especially not with how many side characters (chiefly Bruno and Sherry), antagonists, and duels the show now has to juggle. So Aki and Crow getting even a smidgen of personal conflict here is honestly a breath of fresh air. The interaction kicked off by Crow's injury isn't completely plot-irrelevant, like most character interactions during the pre-WRGP were, but it's not something that feels like it's only there to explain the machinations of the antagonists to the audience, either.

Let me go through this in a little more detail to illustrate my point.

So, episode 97. Crow storms off after Aki offers to take his spot, while Aki heads out to prepare her runner, intent on helping her team. The personal motivations here are already very nice and reflective of these characters as we've gotten to know them up until this point: Crow's angry and disappointed (mostly at himself, which is noteworthy!) because he can't compete. And specifically, he's angry because not being able to compete in the first match means he can't show the kids his duelling like he wanted to. Then there's Aki, whose offer to take Crow's place is every bit as much of a strategic suggestion as it is a bid for acceptance from her. Acceptance, which is the thing she's been all about ever since she was introduced, basically. So she pleads with her friends to accept her, see her as an equal, and allow her to duel for the team, which they do. And Crow initially throws a fit, but then...

(Listen. You have no idea how much Crow and Aki getting to actually be friends means to me.)

He comes around to the idea and not only gives Aki his express permission to take his spot, he even coaches her a bit right before the match. Moreover, as his text states above, he literally entrusts her with the kids' hopes, as well as his own. This quickly brings both of them full circle: Crow, who already has a theme of legacy attached to him, passes the torch to Aki for this match, and in so doing, offers her the acceptance she asked her teammates for. (Frankly, stuff like this makes me wonder why on earth people were so eager to pit these two against each other, when their shared moments are actually some of the best-written during the often rocky WRGP arc.) So, though this injury pulls Crow out of the duel, it, funnily enough, ties him better into the story and to the other characters.

From there, we then dive into the Team Unicorn match proper. And well, being injured as he is, Crow doesn't exactly get a whole lot to do there. However, since we're in the portion where his and Aki's writing overlaps a bit, I do need to go on a quick tangent about what Aki's portion of this duel means for Crow.

(Sigh. Okay, buckle up for a quick and rough detour.)

First, something I need to get out of the way and off my chest: I have made no secret out of the fact that I hate Aki's portion of this duel, save for the moment where she summons Stardust. Hell, this duel segment is pretty much universally hated by anone who has even a smidgen of sympathy for Aki. It's regarded by many as the very moment the writers axed Aki's character, and for good reason: After all the buildup surrounding her getting her turbo duelling license, the supposed "payoff" of it all is that she gets to duel against Andre for a depressing four turns before being defeated immediately, which leads into Yusei's frustrating portion of this duel, which, to my knowledge, isn't regarded any more kindly by fans than Aki's segment. It's a massive let-down, simply put. But the thing is, it's not just a let-down for Aki. After all, the brief character conflict she had with Crow about taking his spot here can and should be regarded as part of the setup for this moment, and as such, it can also be considered to be wasted the second Aki leaves the track after barely making an impact whatsoever.

However, I do need to mention that I have a theory on why this segment was handled the way it was, mostly because I feel like Crow's later interaction with Aki, shortly after she's out of the duel, underlines it (mind that this is just my personal theory, though, after having watched the show perhaps more times than can be considered sane): I think there is a cultural aspect to this duel. See, the word ganbaru, which anime subtitles often like to translate with "do your best" or something along the lines, has a greater significance than the translation implies. Though it's not inaccurate per se, there's more than just the idea of doing your best behind ganbaru, because it's something like an umbrella term not just for doing your best and succeeding, it's also the idea that you have to keep trying, even if you don't succeed. It's related to tenacity, to persistence, even in the face of terrible odds. And make no mistake, I don't mean the Japanese equivalent of "if at first you don't succeed, try again" here. I genuinely do mean "you have to keep trying, even if you fail". There is no guarantee of success here. And for that reason, the idea behind ganbaru is also that it's not simply the success that has value, but the effort made in the attempt to attain it, regardless of the result. (Side note: I tried to scrounge up a resource I could link to that nicely explains this concept, but unfortunately, all the promising articles were paywalled and the ones I learned it from require institutional access to lecture materials.) And this is where I will posit the tentative theory that this is exactly what the 5Ds writers were going for with Aki's segment of the duel—it was very much meant to be the payoff for her turbo duelling license setup and her plea to take Crow's place, but it wasn't so much her success that was meant to be valued, as the effort she (and by extension, Crow) made for and during this duel. And this is where Crow's little pep-talk with Aki after she's out of the duel comes in, because it feels like it supports exactly this interpretation:

(This is essentially the whole sequence. Note how Crow, despite so fervently entrusting Aki with his and his kids' hopes prior, doesn't admonish her for making a bad showing in the slightest.)

I don't think it gets any clearer than it is here. During this sequence, Aki is painfully aware of how poor her performance was against Andre, especially after she was so insistent on duelling at first, and despite having been entrusted with Stardust by Yusei, to boot. Yet, Crow doesn't have a single word of criticism to offer her. Instead, he even tells her she did well and that nobody's perfect. It very much reads as valuing Aki's effort over the result she achieved to me, and thus seems perfectly in line with the idea behind ganbaru.

However, if we assume I'm correct about the intentions behind this writing choice, we come back to why Aki's segment of the duel is so hotly debated and why it may have arguably been a disservice not just to her, but to Crow, too, character-wise. Because the majority of non-Japanese watchers of the show culturally don't have a 1:1 applicable concept like ganbaru, this writing choice was more likely to fall flat for them, because to someone who wasn't raised to understand the idea behind it, Aki's portion of the duel doesn't register as a payoff; it registers as a massive disappointment, because it feels like the writers, who had so much setup already done for her, let her fail on purpose, just to later let Yusei attain his arguably dumbest victory of the entire show. Thus, they also essentially waste the conflict she had with Crow about whether she would be allowed to take his spot in the first place, because with how little she achieved during the duel, she may as well not have gotten on the track. (Figuratively speaking. Please Do Not take this to mean I would prefer a version where Aki hadn't duelled at all. That would be worse. It would be infinitely worse.)

(Also, side note: If this post reaches anyone who's actually Japanese and still remembers this duel, I would genuinely love your input on whether my interpretation is feasible or just wishful thinking. Did you interpret Aki's part of the duel the way I did here? Or did it fall flat for you, too? If what I'm saying here feels like an absolute reach, please tell me. I'm honestly just trying my best to make things make sense here and remembered this concept from some classes I took in Japanese studies at uni.)

With all that in mind, it doesn't come as a surprise that some people were just as frustrated with the way Crow was barred from duelling here as they were with Aki's segment or Yusei's later victory. But it is what it is—the Unicorn duel concludes the way we all know it to, and with that, the show begins setting up the following duel with Team Catastrophe.

The only other, non duel-related, noteworthy thing that happens between the Unicorn and the Catastrophe match is a brief appearance at the Poppo Time by Sherry, who admonishes the signers for celebrating their victory early and warns them about Iliaster. Why do I bring this up? Because it's one of less than five times that Crow is in the same room with Sherry. Remember, Sherry. The girl he later, during the finale, talks out of working for the big bad evil guy because he suddenly seems to have such a deep understanding of her motivations and character that he can accurately deduce what argument will make her understand that working with Z-ONE won't give her what she's looking for. So, does Crow get a meaningful interaction with her during this scene, then? Nope. Not even in the slightest. Crow says exactly one sentence that is aimed at Sherry during her appearance, and that sentence is this:

(What a meaningful conversation!)

And yes, I will come back to Crow and Sherry's dynamic in particular. But we'll save that for the Ark Cradle arc post. For now, just keep it in mind as we move along to the other WRGP duels.

So. Team Catasrophe.

During the duel against this team, which was previously only hinted at ominously, the writing for Crow and Aki overlaps again, and this starts with the writers essentially doing a complete switcheroo of what came before: Instead of Crow getting injured and being unable to compete, it's Aki who crashes, ends up in the hospital, and is thus forced to give up her spot during the duel. (This also goes hand in hand with her suddenly losing her powers, which we are given absolutely zero explanation for, but let's not talk about that clusterfuck here. If you're interested in my opinions about that particular trainwreck, I have a rant for you.) Additionally, it's during this stretch of episodes (103-105, which is a whopping four episodes less than Team Unicorn got) that we find out that not only Aki's crash, but Crow's previous one, too, were both sabotage, caused by the rather unscrupulous Team Catastrophe by way of a special card that can cause real damage even when there is no psychic duellist present. (A card we also find out was given to them by Placido/Primo, but this is irrelevant for both Aki and Crow.) Crow's reaction to this piece of information, particularly once Aki gets injured due to the same thing, is where things get interesting for him again, because he gets pissed, to say the least.

(A moment I imagine firebirdshippers must have been positively delighted about.)

Here, I have to reiterate an earlier point: Think what you will of Team Catastrophe, of Aki's crash, and of the sequence where her powers suddenly don't work, but this moment here, where Crow gets angry on her behalf and swears to duel Team Catastrophe into submission—not because he wants his kids to cheer for him, or because he wants to prove himself, but as revenge for his friend—is one of sadly only a handful of moments the writers use to show the strengthened relationships between the individual members of Team 5Ds after the dark signers arc. It's one of the precious few scenes that actually shows, rather than tells us or lets us search for scraps in the subtext, that the signers, and the members of Team 5Ds as a whole, care for each other outside of revolving around Yusei like planets around the sun. Even if it's laughably small, it's at least a hint that there are individual friendships between the other signers, too, that they all stick around one another for reasons beyond gravitating towards Yusei for one reason or another. And for that alone, I'm grateful that they put this here, even if Team Catastrophe was otherwise so ridiculous and made such a bad showing at their actual match that they could barely be taken seriously as antagonists at all.

Speaking of which. The actual meat of the matter. The Team Catastrophe match. What does Crow do here? Well, he duels! Even though he wasn't supposed to, for injury-related reasons. What both his participation as well as the actual duel accomplish, though, are that they not only showcase previously established character traits of Crow's again, but they also make a (possibly unintended) callback to a previous, major duel Crow took part in: His dark signer duel against Bommer/Greiger. Where and how? Let's see.

Firstly, Crow's participation. The reactions of the other characters to this make it very evident that Team 5Ds did not plan for this, with Yusei and Jack even going as far as to say they "had no choice" but to let Crow duel, because he insisted. This is perfectly in line with the stubbornness we already know from him at this point—a stubbornness that was also a major reason for why he took Bommer on and later continued his duel with said man, despite Yusei showing up and telling him he shouldn't be duelling a dark signer.

Secondly, there's the manoeuvring thing, and here's where I can call attention to a fun tidbit: The WRGP isn't what introduces the concept of manual mode during turbo duels to the audience. It's Crow. During his duel with Bommer. Being crafty and a bit shrewd as he is, Crow, during said duel in the DS arc, purposefully switches to manual mode when he duels Bommer, because he figures that attacks that can deal real damage can probably be evaded if you actually have control over your runner and aren't stuck in autopilot.

(Don't believe me? Here it is. And frankly, it is somewhat hilarious, yet also very fitting that Crow is the only one who thinks to do this during a duel with a dark signer.)

The reason this particular bit is relevant during the Team Catastrophe duel is because Crow essentially repeats this trick here. Of course, it's a bit less impactful now, given that manual mode is standard for WRGP duels, but still: Due to Hook, the Hidden Knight, Crow is forced to pay attention to the track and manually evade the monster's attempts to make his back wheel lock up during the duel, mirroring how he thought to manually evade Bommer's attacks during the DS arc.

Thirdly, there's the revenge angle, and this one is a particularly juicy callback. Remember, Crow's major reason for taking on Team Catastrophe, despite being injured, is that he wants to get revenge for Aki. This directly parallels how his major reason for duelling Bommer during the DS arc was that he wanted revenge for his kids, whom he believed to be dead at that point in time. (It also, interestingly, establishes a bit of a connection to his deck, which boasts a fair amount of revenge effects, but I'll not get into that here, seeing as I've talked about Crow's cards a bit before.)

Keep in mind, despite all the things listed above that this duel accomplishes, it's also by far the shortest WRGP duel. It lasts a whole six turns, total, which is ludicrous compared to the likes of 27-turn Team Unicorn, 26-turn Team Taiyou, or 25-turn Team Ragnarok. And I don't think it's controversial to say that the Catastrophe guys are probably the most forgettable WRGP Team, too. Yet, somehow, despite all its shortcomings in terms of memorable antagonists and plot relevance, this is one of the best duels of the WRGP where Crow's character writing is concerned. Now, I'll be perfectly candid: Coming into this post, I did not expect the Team Catastrophe duel, of all things, to end up being as good at actually showcasing Crow's character and his ties to other characters (who aren't Yusei) as it was, but here we are. And we had better hold on to the good the Team Unicorn - Catastrophe segment did for Crow, because the next thing that's coming up is a harsh break from the WRGP, starting with the sudden appearance of Placido's home-engineered army of killer duel robots. And what does Crow get to do during this part?

Uh. Well.

(Pictured: Bird Boy being demoted to benchwarmer while the city's being ransacked by murder duel robots.)

Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, is what.

During the duel robot invasion, we only ever flash back to Crow to ascertain that he is, in fact, useless during this part of the show, something he shares in common with Ruka, Rua, and Aki here, because all of them get pretty much nothing to do while Yusei finally gets the hang of accel synchro. Granted, Aki gets to save a little girl at the hospital, but in comparison to Yusei's lengthy, plot-heavy duel with Placido, this feels like a consolation prize. And for once, Jack is only marginally better off, too, because sure, he gets to beat up a couple of robots, but that's it, really.

Where Crow is concerned, his plot relevance doesn't actually resume once the Placido duel finishes, though. (And neither does Rua's, Ruka's, or Aki's, while we're at it.) Because wouldn't you know it, the next big thing directly after the duel robot invasion are the Red Nova episodes, where three out of five signers (Crow, Aki, and Ruka, unsurprisingly) are removed from the screen almost in their entirety again while Jack gets his much-needed dragon upgrade so he can keep up with Yusei, in order to uphold his status as a classic, almost-evenly-matched yugioh rival.

Speaking of upgrades and dragons, let's make a quick detour while our protag and rival duo take their express vacation to the Nazca plains. It is, of course, no secret that no signer outside of Yusei and Jack ever got a dragon upgrade within the anime. (No, I'm not forgetting about Life Stream Dragon. But that one, unlike Shooting Star Dragon and Red Nova Dragon, was a.) teased all the way back in the DS arc and b.) didn't have a unique summoning method or some other gimmick that made it an "elevated" synchro. So I'm discounting Life Stream as a "proper" dragon upgrade on purpose.) Is this the point where I start arguing that Crow should have gotten one, then? Well, not quite. Not with the writing the show canonically gave us, at least—after all, with how late Black-Winged Dragon was introduced, it would have been bonkers to upgrade him here already, if even at all. However, I do argue that the way the show hands only Yusei and Jack upgrades seems a bit... off. Now, I know why only those two get upgrades, or at least I think I do. After all, they're the central protag/rival duo, and within the framework of the character archetypes the larger yugioh canon has created for itself, this would have always made them the first, if not the only candidates for dragon upgrades. What feels a bit off to me, though, is that specifically the 5Ds cast feels like it... chafes a bit against those character archetypes, for lack of a better word. The problem is this: The signers, as far as the first two arcs are concerned, are sold to us as equals who all have very powerful ace monsters. Yes, Jack and Yusei are still undoubtedly the best duellists among them, but not on account of having uber-powerful extra special monsters that were acquired through supernatural means that are categorically inaccessible to the other signers. However, with the appearance of Shooting Star and Red Nova, this changes. While Yusei and Jack were previously and would have always been the two guys who had a Special dynamic with a capital "S" on account of their character archetypes, their acquisition of the dragon upgrades—and even more so, the lack of upgrades their fellow signers receive—now decidedly puts them in a different power bracket and skews the balance between previous, supposedly "equal" characters. (Which, unfortunately, is yet another thing that makes everyone else easier to sideline.)

Why do I bring all this up in a post dedicated to Crow? Because this new power imbalance arguably impacts him more than the other signers—because he's Team 5Ds' second wheeler and doesn't miss another WRGP match from here on out. Thus, that power imbalance is felt in the upcoming duels, where Yusei and Jack bust out Shooting Star and Red Nova like it's nothing, while Crow is left manoeuvring with the somewhat underpowered Black-Winged Dragon and whatever else he can come up with. This is also why I claimed that the show did sideline Crow in some aspects further above. Because while some parts of his writing go to great pains to establish him as part of a protagonist trifecta that is now supposed to take centre stage before the other characters, he also permanently lives in Jack and Yusei's shadow, ultimately barred not just from reaching equal status as a signer (due to his late and rocky introduction and dragon acquisition), but also barred from becoming the equal of his foster brothers as a duellist. Frankly, I'm surprised the show didn't make this a plot point, because the first thing my mind jumps to when I think about this is whether Crow felt left behind after his brothers acquired such immensely powerful, special cards. But more on my personal writing ideas later. For now, let's just put a pin in the power-imbalance thing.

So, when is Crow back on screen in any meaningful role, then? (Note that I mean this as literally as possible. As per my discussion about "screentime" and my gripes about it in part two, I gloss over the parts where Crow is on screen, but could be traded for any other signer or even a lamppost without affecting the scene at all.)

Well, the next thing Crow gets to do isn't exactly glorious, but it sure is funny.

(I want you all to remember that he has to wear this costume and play this part in Team 5Ds' absurd plan to capture Yaeger/Lazar because he lost at rock-paper-scissors. This will never not be funny to me.)

Ignoring the hilarious outfit and Crow playing the bait at a fabricated cup ramen promo event meant to lure Yaeger in, bird boy does actually get something that's not just for funsies to do during the two episodes where Team 5Ds is trying to get more information about Iliaster: He gets to have a duel revanche against Yaeger, who, if we remember the DS arc, ditched him the last time they squared off. Much like the Team Catastrophe duel, this one, too, calls back to previous duels Crow has had: For one, it's the obvious conclusion to his unfinished, first duel with Yaeger. And for two, Crow repeats a "trick" (for lack of a better term) here that is also unique to him: losing on purpose, which we remember from his duel with Lyndon.

(Identical-looking clown family jumpscare be upon ye.)

And again, much like getting injured for the Team Unicorn duel, I argue that this story beat here is something that could also only have been accomplished with Crow. Because he's the only one who has previously duelled Yaeger, firstly, because not wanting to make a child cry by beating their dad in a duel makes sense for him as a character due to him being a family-oriented person who loves children, secondly, and because losing on purpose in this scenario is a tactic that would seem out of character from anyone else, thirdly. (We recall, the only times Jack and Yusei, respectively, ever consider/offer to lose on purpose is when the lives of people close to them are on the line, in the shape of Carly/Rally. As for the others, aside from not being present, Aki, Rua, and Ruka are so heavily sidelined at this point that they would have never been an option for this. And if his writing is anything to go by, Bruno is mostly purposefully forbidden from accomplishing Plot Things, especially through duels, while he's Bruno.) But hey, due to the way this episode is set up, losing on purpose works out for Crow, because it convinces Yaeger to stop hiding and actually share his knowledge about Iliaster. This, by the way, is the second scene where Crow gets to be in a room with Sherry for a longer stretch of time. And look, him joking that Sherry might kill Yaeger if he doesn't spill the beans about Iliaster soon is fun and all, but in light of the Ark Cradle duel later, I have to point out that he, again, doesn't get to have so much as a shred of a meaningful conversation with Sherry here. Again. But moving on. The scene with Yaeger at the Poppo Time then leads us first to the small sequence in the arcade where the gang has to win a simulated duel to get Yaeger's encoded intel, then to episode 116—the Moment Express episode, where, due to this being a Yusei, Sherry, and Bruno-focussed episode, Crow gets nothing to do again. (And also doesn't get to interact with Sherry again.)

Congrats! We've survived the WRGP break. This leaves us with three more WRGP duels before shit hits the fan and the Ark Cradle arc commences. And full disclosure, I'll be doing a bit of a quick-fire round of those three duels. Why? Because despite them all having their merits in their own rights (they're the better liked duels of the WRGP for a reason), there honestly isn't that much focus on Crow during them. He duels, yes, and I've seen people point this out over and over again as the supposed smoking gun that shows how Crow had so much more relevance and screentime than Aki and yadda, yadda. We've been there. And it's not that I can't see where this argument is coming from—I'll be the first to tell you that it's a travesty that Aki never got to duel in the WRGP again outside of the Unicorn match. But I want to use the final three matches to dig into how the way these matches—and especially the opponents to go with them—were set up made it nearly impossible for Aki to replace Crow again during any point of the WRGP finals.

First, episode 118. This is the only preamble episode we get for the first two WRGP finals teams, and here, our group is split in two: Yusei, Bruno, and Rua introduce us to Team Taiyou, while Jack, Aki, and Crow introduce us to Team Ragnarok. There isn't much to say here, because the only thing this episode does for Crow is a shallow repeat of what the Team Catastrophe duel did: By putting him in a group with Aki and Jack, and letting them decide among themselves, independently, to check out the exhibition match, it implies that he voluntarily spends time with signers who aren't Yusei. Thumbs up. Gold star. You made an effort (I guess). Then, the real fun starts.

Round one. Team Taiyou.

(Pictured: The sweetest country bumpkins to ever grace this earth. Yes, I'm biased.)

So here's the deal with Team Taiyou, from a narrative standpoint, as best as I can grasp it: They are a callback to Team 5Ds' roots. Specifically, to the boys' Satellite roots. The Taiyou boys come from humble origins, have only one, mostly home-engineered duel runner, and play using old cards that are widely considered shitty, as 5Ds canon tells us. They are essentially the non-signer, countryside version of what Jack, Crow, and Yusei once were, which is why this is the first duel where the duellist constellation on Team 5Ds' end couldn't possibly have been altered. Team Taiyou is there to remind us where our boys started, so it has to be our boys duelling them. This also goes for Crow, even though this duel otherwise doesn't accomplish much for him, character-wise. Instead, it's more of a narrative wink at the audience, as well as providing a breather between otherwise extremely tense, plot-focussed duels. But yeah, Crow's part in this match isn't much to write home about; he doesn't get any verbal interactions that are very meaningful to his character, can't get so much as a scratch in on Zushin, even with Black-Winged Dragon, and is defeated so Yusei can take out the legendary giant.

Round two. Team Ragnarok.

(Behold the pizzazz of at least two contenders for Haircuts With The Most Spikes in the show.)

Though this duel is framed as being even more so aimed towards bolstering Jack's character writing than Crow's, given the inclusion of Dragan's personal history with Jack, Team Ragnarok gets significantly more interesting for Crow again than Team Taiyou did. This is, of course, mainly because of Brave/Broder. Where Team Taiyou were a callback to the 5Ds boys' roots, Team Ragnarok are their narrative foils. Dragan is the duellist who lost his pride to contrast Jack, who's brimming with pride at all times, and Harald/Halldor is essentially the rich, "destiny isn't bullshit, actually" version of Yusei. Meanwhile, unlike the first two, who highlight our 5Ds boys' characteristics by contrasting them, Brave acts as Crow's mirror. Through Team Ragnarok's flashbacks, we see that he gets almost exactly the same, lovable-rogue-type backstory that Crow did during the DS arc, just in a different setting. The only, major difference between them is that while Crow is more down-to-earth, Brave likes to be pretty flashy.

(Keep in mind that he's doing this on a runner. Is there such a thing as courses on how to do acrobatics on your runner? Like there are courses for vaulting on horseback irl? I'm overthinking this again.)

Unsurprisingly, the duel thus ends up addressing the similarities between Crow and Brave, mostly through two things: One, the duel essentially becomes a contest of who can out-trickster who, culminating in the famous, ridiculous-in-the-good-way sequence where Crow activates a trap from his graveyard, to the shock of pretty much everyone present. And two, despite being on opposite sides, the two bond over their concern for the children they took care of and their concern for children in general, which is expressed most clearly in the scene where Crow's kids, in an attempt to hold the poster they made for him higher, very nearly fall over the barricade in the WRGP stands. Despite the hefty length of the full duel, these are pretty much the only things actually related to Crow's character that come up, though. They're good, don't get me wrong, but in a duel that is otherwise this dense with plot, Aesir shenanigans, and Iliaster foreshadowing, it's no surprise that the duel doesn't add that much to Crow's character, outside of giving him someone he can bounce off very well and relate to. Again, though, we are faced with the same situation as with Team Taiyou: Due to the way the members of Team Ragnarok are written, meant to contrast/parallel one male duellist each from Team 5Ds, nobody other than Crow could have taken the third spot here, either. It would have felt awkward from a narrative standpoint (as much as I would have loved to see Aki duel more).

Now, finally. Round three. Team New World.

(Welp. Here come the robots.)

I had to check to make sure I wasn't misremembering this, but due to the way this duel was set up so José/Jakob could bust out Meklord Emperor Granel with a ridiculous amount of attack points, Crow gets a resounding four turns total in this duel. (Gee, I wonder which other character got this treatment during a WRGP duel.) During those four turns, there are only two things he accomplishes: One, leaving behind two combo pieces Yusei later uses, and two, showcasing the shrewd tactics that earned him the label of "trickster" during the Ragnarok duel by bringing out a non-synchro monster that can take advantage of a synchro monster's attack points and effects—Aurora the Northern Lights. And arguably, this is a very smart play, moreover, it's the only time anyone in the show has the bright idea to not use synchro monsters against the known and feared synchro-killer Meklords. Unfortunately, as smart as it is, the narrative doesn't reward Crow for this play—José all but shrugs what could have been a turning point in the duel off, then proceeds to steamroll Crow the next turn, leaving Yusei to score the win, as usual. To get back to the "Crow got so much more screentime than Aki during the WRGP" thing for a second, of all the duels in the WRGP finals, this is arguably the one where Aki could still most easily have taken Crow's spot again, because here, it doesn't matter whether it's him or someone else, as this duel isn't tied to his character in any way. Unfortunately, due to the Granel-steamroller-strategy, this is also the duel where letting Aki take his spot again would have been the biggest shot in the foot, because unless they had changed Team New World's strategy, Aki would have gotten brutally guillotined here, same as Crow—something I can't imagine anyone, not even people who hate Crow, being happy about.

With that, though, we've finally made it through the WRGP. So, what's the bottom line here? Frankly, speaking from my own interpretation, Crow occupies an... odd spot during this tournament, to say the least. Though he does get to duel the majority of the time, few of the duels actually cater to his character in any way. Moreover, he only gets to be the star of the show in a WRGP duel once, during the by far most forgettable match against Team Catastrophe. And mind that I use the term "star of the show" very loosely here, because the problem the WRGP arc as a whole has, in my opinion, is that the rather lame Team Catastrophe duel is the only one in the whole tournament that isn't won by Yusei, which categorically means that any of the other character's big moments are usually undermined by the fact that they ultimately still need him to save the day. Thus, moments like Aki summoning Stardust Dragon and Crow using an anti-synchro-killer strategy that for once actually forgoes synchros are somewhat cheapened by the fact that they're not actually the turning-point moments they're initially painted as, because ultimately, Yusei always has to be the one to save the day. What's worse is that this almost feels like a bit of a non-issue that could have easily been fixed—given that the show tells us that teams can shuffle around their line-up for a match any time. But unfortunately, the writing never interacts with this as a possible strategic element, nor does it ever seem to consider letting Yusei lose, or forcing him to give up his spot for a match. I feel the need to say that I don't put the blame at Yusei's feet here, though: This strongly feels like an oversight by the writers, and perhaps a disproportionate need to have a nigh-infallible protagonist (on the duelling side of things) that their audience would never run the risk of calling "lame". For Crow, though, this chiefly means one thing: In any duel other than the Catastrophe one, it was always clear that even if he partook, he would never finish the match. And yes, this is technically an issue Jack has, too. But this is where the character writing outside of the duels comes into play, too.

Unlike Jack, who actually gets to do something during the Diablo invasion (albeit very little), who gets his very own dragon upgrade and who gets a very personal, pre-duel plot with Dragan, the show's writing doesn't bother giving Crow a lot of plot- or character-relevant things to do, once the WRGP starts. This is also why I was so surprised at how much the Unicorn and Catastrophe duels embrace his interactions with Aki—compared to the later duels in the finals, this portion still makes Crow feel genuinely relevant and interwoven with the other characters. Meanwhile, out of the three final duels, only the Ragnarok one actually tries to establish a connection to his characterisation, through Brave. The Taiyou duel only sets itself up in such a way that Aki partaking instead of him would have been awkward. Meanwhile, the New World duel just has him being treated like a floormat in a sad parallel to Aki during the Unicorn duel, seeing as they both get a nice moment where it looks like they might turn the duel around (Aki summoning Stardust Dragon and Black Rose Dragon onto the field at the same time; Crow summoning Aurora the Northern Lights, which couldn't be absorbed by the Meklords), only to have their hopes dashed as they're mercilessly cleared off the track. Outside of the duels, many scenes sadly give the impression that they may as well not have included Crow, though—he often gets so little to contribute to a moment or even to say at all that substituting him with a cardboard box seems like it would not have impacted the scene in any way. And that's without addressing his non-existent connection to Sherry, which feels extra glaring, given his later interactions with her on the Ark Cradle.

All in all, the WRGP feels like a very mixed bag, where Crow's character writing is concerned. His belated backstory, which I talked about in part two, is front-loaded and asks as many questions as it answers. Then the tournament commences, gives him some actually decent character interplay with Aki for once (at the cost of letting her succeed in the tournament, it seems), only for him to be basically irrelevant during the WRGP pause again. And once the whole thing resumes, it becomes this hot-and-cold thing where some duel aspects seem tailored to him, while others treat him as completely expendable. The end result is an arc where I'm left wondering why exactly the writers felt the need to make it seem like Crow made up one portion of a protagonist trifecta, if they never actually bothered treating him as equal to the other two. (The answer, I believe, lies somewhere between the fumbled setup they did for him during the Fortune Cup and DS arc, and the way yugioh in general treats its character archetypes. But that's just speculation on my part.) The one, saving grace the WRGP (outside of the Pearson backstory) has for Crow is that it at least doesn't introduce any new character- and/or timeline inconsistencies. In fact, his character stays remarkably true to form once the tournament begins.

Okay, onto the final bit, then. As I've done in both previous posts, let me delve into completely subjective territory and offer some ideas on how this arc could have been handled to make it seem a little less all over the place with Crow. And since his writing here canonically intersects with Aki's several times, let me try to do it while offering the best of both worlds to both characters, if I can.

As far as Crow's backstory is concerned, I've already offered my solutions to that in part two. Now, to stay consistent with my own suggestions, I'll try to branch off what I wrote in the last post. This means that, as per my previous two analyses, we're dealing with two scenarios again: One, Crow stays a signer and we try to touch canon as little as possible. Two, Crow isn't a signer and we adjust canon in whatever way we need to to make him feel interesting and necessary despite/because of that.

First, though, let's get two adjustments I personally would have made in both versions out of the way:

The way the WRGP is structured puts every character that isn't Yusei at a massive disadvantage, where character moments in duels are concerned. Thus, I propose an overhaul. Among the changes I think could have benefitted the characters (yes, all of them) are: One - Aki actually getting to accomplish something during the Unicorn duel (she can and should still have her moments with Crow, but maybe let her portion of the duel end in her thanking him for coaching her, creating a more upbeat scene that strengthens their friendship, which could double as good setup for their later double-duel against Sherry). Two - letting the Team Catastrophe duel actually play out properly (as in, they become more meaningful as opponents by having a better strategy, for example, and Crow could stick it out longer against them, in order to make this more so his win than Jack's. Also, why not let Aki actually see him get back at Team Catastrophe for her?). Three - giving Crow an actual character moment during the Taiyou duel (what if one of the country boys had played a card or two of the ones he learned to read from? It could have helped drive the parallel between the two teams home.) Four - letting Crow's anti-Meklord strategy get at least a little payoff, if only for two turns (show us at least proof of concept, damn it!). Yes, the Ragnarok duel is the only one I wouldn't rewrite (unless special circumstances are introduced, see below). Additionally, let Team 5Ds alter their line-up more than once, damn it. Let them actually strategise about the duels, let them take into consideration who should go first when and whose deck might be better suited to which scenario. Also, remove Yusei from at least one duel. Doesn't matter how, just let him not partake once. Perfect setup to let Aki duel again, and would also allow for spicy character interactions. (Arguably the best duels where this could have been done would have been any of the final duels, though it would have also required rewriting the antagonists somewhat in any case.)

For the love of god, give Sherry and Crow some setup. Let them actually interact, let them introduce their philosophies to one another, just do something, anything to make Crow understanding and talking sense into her during the finale seem earned. A few chance meetings, or maybe even a tiny side-plot could have done so much here. And if you can't let them interact outright, at least let Aki and Crow talk about Sherry! Double whammy! The two characters who end up duelling against her are made to seem even more like a team, and Crow actually gets to find out what Sherry's deal is on-screen. Just. Set. it. up. I beg you.

There we go. Now, onto the two branches.

Option A: Crow stays a signer and obtained Black-Winged Dragon.

Seeing as Crow's signer status, funnily enough, isn't all that relevant during the tournament itself (save for two notable exceptions), there aren't that many fixes to be made here. Crow can still get injured, miss out on the Unicorn duel and be the star of the Catastrophe duel. But giving him something to do during the duel robot invasion that isn't standing around and hoping Yusei will fix everything would also be nice. It's fine if he can't drive out there and duel, but why not let him do something else? He's a crafty guy, why not let him find, say, a way to fry the Diablos' runners, taking a few of them out even from a semi-stationary position without duelling them? He could at least get as much of a consolation prize scene as Aki got with her saving that child. Then there's Team Taiyou, which, save for what I proposed above, is a duel that doesn't feel like it needs changes. Crow does his thing here. That's it. The same goes for Team Ragnarok, especially given that they're specifically written to oppose an all-signers Team 5Ds. Finally, there's Team New World, which, if I'm being completely candid, I would personally overhaul to change the cyborgs' strategy entirely in order to actually let all three members of Team 5Ds shine. But this is the version where I touch canon as little as possible, so... Aside from what I wrote above, no changes needed. Just make Crow seem a little more relevant, make his strategy have at least a little payoff, even if Granel's back out and menacing literally two turns later.

Option B: Crow, as per my previous posts, isn't a signer and doesn't have Black-Winged Dragon.

This is the version that would categorically require heavier changes, though they honestly don't arrive until the break in the tournament. Unicorn and Catastrophe stay the same, I would still propose that Crow gets to be a little more useful during the Diablo invasion. But! In this version, seeing as he never acquired BWD, the break in the WRGP would be an excellent spot to let Crow acquire an upgrade for his beefy Blackwing ace monster of choice. Give him a little side-plot, too, something to do, something where he proves himself. Maybe let him run into Iliaster here, or maybe call back to Pearson again and introduce the new Blackwing upgrade as a treasure Pearson stashed away before he died (maybe this could have even been the card Bolger was actually after; the world is our oyster here). Then he's beefed up, too, and actually feels a little more on the same level as Jack and Yusei. The tournament recommences and again, the Taiyou duel could stay mostly the same, I think. Ragnarok and New World are where it gets really interesting, though. The way I see it, Ragnarok could go two ways with Crow not being a signer: Either he partakes as he did in canon and his non-signer status is called out as a peculiarity by our Swedish boys who happen to be obsessed with fate (which would make his performance against Brave seem all the more impressive), or, due to this being a duel all about destiny and celestial pissing contests, Crow's spot is given to Aki again for this duel due to her signer status (this would, obviously, require rewriting Brave, perhaps even switching him out for a Ragnarok lady instead). As for Team New World, this duel would honestly be a lot more juicy with a non-signer Crow, because much like he was for the dark signers, a non-signer Crow would essentially be an unknown in their plan for the cyborgs. He would be the guy who's Not Supposed To Be Here. Granted, he would still be beaten, but he could still get an excellent moment where his out-of-left-field anti-Meklord strategy genuinely seems to turn the tables for a bit, angering José and providing even stronger setup for Yusei to win later.

Aaaaand that's that. Somehow, I get the feeling the WRGP had the least things that needed fixing because it also had the least actual character writing. But that might just be me. It's late and I have been writing for A While. But hey, I got out part three faster than part two! I consider that an achievement.

Now, while I get my talking points in order for part four, I hope you'll have fun chewing on this one. See you in the grand finale to my Bird Boy dissertation.

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jaskierx · 4 months

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can i be honest and you can ignore me if you like absolutely it's nothing to do with you in specific you just seem very nice is all. as much as i love ofmd and the people with good opinions are awesome it feels sort of... cliquey sometimes 😭 or maybe a word less harsh it's not a harsh thing it's just like everyone's already settled in. like i know this is a thing in most fandom spaces but it's really hard to try and get an in anywhere i spose and like that post i don't even know if you reblogged said people don't even go into the main tags anymore (bc of racists and stuff which is understandable) they just reblog from each other but it makes everything feel really circular sort of. i know this isn't anyone's fault it's just a little sad complex thing i have lol i have no friends or even mutuals who are into the show and it's my special interest so i kind of just watch everyone from the outside and don't know how to get in without like annoying people.

hey anon ❤️

i know exactly what you mean and i think the cliquiness happens pretty unavoidably in any fandom that reaches a certain size and has a certain amount of Discourse™ (and christ knows we have. so much of it over here)

and i completely get the feeling of coming into a fandom and seeing people who seem to have a really close knit circle of mutuals and feeling really intimidated. but fandom isn't meant to be some exclusive club and even if people are interacting with posts from the same few users all the time that doesn't mean they'd find you annoying or they don't want to interact with anybody new

from my pov folks are always welcome to reply to my posts or send me asks or tag me in stuff or whatever. i rocked up late to the ofmd fandom (almost a year after s1 aired) and i found nearly everyone (bar. a key few. who strongly disagree with me about basically everything lmao) to be really friendly

i don't really have any good advice bc the way i approach new fandoms is to basically rock up in the tag and just start yelling about every semi-coherent thought that forms in my brain but that's what tumblr is for and why this website is a good place lmao. but i know how you feel and it's hard but i promise it'll get easier if you take the first leap and start posting in the tag or replying to posts that you like

💛

#asks #anon

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nerdishpursuits · 2 months

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Can you elaborate on your tags about reading jk Rowlings original post?

Just that I admit that at first, when the JKR discourse started back in the day, I didn’t actually go and read the essay she published on her blog, which is the one that started the entire thing. I did go and read it, eventually, because I tend to like forming my own opinions on things. Personally, I didn’t see any evidence of transphobia. Same with her tweets. Sure, she’s a sarcastic troll some days because she’s, probably, tired of this topic. She was arguing there is such a thing as biological sex and people transition from one to the other in order to embrace living authentically. And that kids should be kids as they have no way to consent. They need to be left alone, or helped to make informed decisions they’ll not regret later in life. Perfectly fine and I’m very much supportive of that.

Everyone should love and live as they please, and no one has the right to ostracize them for it. What she called problematic was the complete denial that biological sex exists, hormone blockers in kids who can’t really consent, self IDing as a woman without actually transitioning and some trans activists saying a biological woman’s experience doesn’t matter. I don’t see that as being transphobic. Just logic and concern.

Over the past few days my partner and I went on a deep dive on this topic and found there’s plenty trans people agreeing with JKR. We’ve seen videos of trans women competing in women’s sports and winning, then commenting they don’t care at all about the medals and winning, but simply enjoy having a good time with their friends at the gym. Why compete in the women’s weight lifting category if you don’t care about winning then? Aussie surfer Bethany Hamilton was dropped by her lifelong sponsor in favor of a trans woman who previously competed, and won, in the men’s division. Swimming, wrestling, roller skating even etc. There’s trans women out there claiming they’re the ones who know what a woman is because they’re forced to think about it, whereas a biological woman is simply born and therefore, inferior. Others who claim they experience period cramps or that their genitalia is superior to a biological woman’s etc. As far as I’ve seen. JKR and other trans people have spoken out against these kind of situations, comments and claims. That’s why I think that cancel culture is so toxic. We need to look at the whole picture and stop claiming things are black or white or the damaging adage of if you’re not with me you’re against me.

I think a very loud minority, who doesn’t represent the entirety of the trans community, might actually be doing more harm than good. Not just to the trans community, who deserves nothing but acceptance and support and love, but the rest of the LGBTQ+ community as well. Pushing a narrative too fast, and forcefully, isn’t helping. It’s actually turning people against us and it’s frustrating and depressing. Denying actual biology and elbowing your way into biological women’s spaces won’t win you their love. Calling them birthing people won’t win them over. Calling them lesser won’t open doors either.

There’s a ton of material to be found on YouTube, there’s podcasts, articles etc. Personally, I think people need to sit down and talk and debate and be diplomatic. I’m not saying JKR isn’t without her faults but I do think she’s been demonized for speaking her mind and voicing her concerns about women’s spaces and kids. It’s as if people can’t have a healthy debate anymore. We need to cancel those who don’t agree with us. It’s the all or nothing mob mentality and, personally, I’m sick of it. This is a nuanced topic and should be treated as such. But now you can’t even be a centrist anymore. You have to be for or against and nothing in between. How about we look at what’s right or wrong, for both sides, and decide accordingly. Why this inane ideological war that radicalizes people who should be having a productive conversation instead.

#don’t come at me with your pitchforks or call me names #I won’t reply to that kind of message #be civilized and willing to engage in a healthy debate?#by all means

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the-moon-lullaby · 1 year

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Headcanons : The HSL Boys + Priya Drunk

N/A: So this random but the other day I was talking about MCL with a friend and as summer approaches and plans are being planned (chaotic ones mainly) we started to wonder how the LIs would be like when drunk. So I thought I'd share my opinion on the matter.

* little disclaimer : always drink alcohol with moderation and if you don't drink, don't let others influence you (f*ck them if they make fun of you about that, they're the problem) and if you do drink though, always drink glasses of water between glasses of alcohol (you'll thank yourself the next day)

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

Emotional drunk

Not every time though, it doesn’t happen that often but when it does ,just give him a compliment or tell him something sad and you just launched the machine

This will be likely followed by this « I love you guys » speech (he’s probably really drunk at this point so his discourse doesn’t make sense but it the least of his concerns right now)

Will never admit it or accept to talk about it the next day (might even pretend that he doesn’t remember it as if it was enough to make everyone forget about it lol)

But when he’s not emotional, he’s actually extrovert ???

Like he talks with everyone and have good laugh with them (my boy has become a social butterfly for the night)

Would accept a cigarette if someone offers him one so PLS STOP HIM (he has to protect his voice come on)

Totally up for karaoke but don’t you dare try to make him sing these commercial songs he always complains about because he certainly won’t and he’ll rant about how they suck

Bonus point : I can picture him ✨slaying✨ a Lady Gaga karaoke. Like he knows the lyrics and even some bit of the choreo (probably won’t do it though, I guess that’s where he draws the line). That would depend on who is around tho (for example if Nathaniel is around, haha no. He’ll never let this guy catch him singing Bad Romance, no matter how drunk)

If he keeps drinking, he might throw up and he’ll try to be slick about it (but everyone knows that when he left in such a hurry, it was because the end was near for him)

He has the worst hangovers. It takes him 3 whole business days to get back on his feet (he has to get over the physical consequences but also the embarrassment. Because, ew, talking about feelings and all when he’s drunk cringes him so bad lol)

𝙻𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 :

Philosophically confused drunk ?

Literally, anything could become matter to philosophical debates at this point and out of nowhere he’ll just start pondering existence and the meaning of life.

And he has a lot to say (which is surprising according to the fact that Lysander isn’t really talkative in general)

Can get anyone captivated because he speaks from the heart and he kinda make a point (he make people rethink their whole life so that can be a bit of a buzzkill as much as it can be fascinating. It’s 50/50)

Honestly, I struggle to imagine Lysander drunk because I don’t think there’s a lot of circumstances where he would be likely to drink a lot. Especially that I don’t think he’s really fond of strong alcohol (like vodka, rum or else) but more of a wine kinda guy.

(Which is why that if he does get drunk, he’ll get a dreadful hangover the next day because there’s nothing like a wine hangover y’all)

I feel like if he’s not pondering existence, he’ll be just listening at people (you know the people that overshare when drunk, spilling the tea without judgment or just telling their life story, I kinda love these people)

He would be a really good listener and would conclude the conversation by a inspiring quote he just made up (you can’t silence the poet in him)

If you leave him on his own for too long tho, he might get an existential crisis (like « Where is my life leading me ??? What should life be like ?? What’s after life ??? How do you know you’re living and not surviving ???) Yeah, he asks himself a lot of questions and that can be overwhelming (relatable)

If people pressuring to sing, he’ll just be annoyed so don’t. He don’t really like to sing when drunk because he knows that this won’t be his best performance

Bonus point : I believe he’s the kind of person that can get sleepy from alcohol (add to that the fact that he spends his days working hard) so he’s likely to be one of the first that want to leave the party lol

𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗 :

If you’re going to an event or a party where Armin might get drunk, please bring a leash with you

Not but for real, he’s the runner type of drunk

Totally that friend that’ll randomly disappear in the middle of the party to do some side quests without warning ANYONE

So everyone’s start wondering : WHERE DID HE GO AGAIN ?

And he’ll come back as if nothing happened with some random items he found on the way (bonus : or some random guy he talked with and now they’re buddies ???)

I said he was a runner but it’s because he likes to be chased. He just finds it fun and it becomes sort of a escaping mission in his mind

(That’s funny because usually you can’t get him to do anything that requires physical investment lol)

If you guys finally catch him and make him stay in sight he’ll just be super friendly

He’s kind of get "happy drunk" and everything’s seems so funny

Alcohol really does cloud his judgment so he’ll get some stupid ideas that sounds to him like genius-like behaviours (it’s not, pls stay on your chair dear)

I feel like if he finds a partner in crime, it’s over, he’s out of control (and that might very well be Nathaniel but I’ll go back to it later)

Would dance (pretty badly)

He really can’t sit still for more than two minutes so it’s better if you keep an eye on him at all time (he’s basically the result of if a 9 year-old was drunk which can be as entertaining as it can get exhausting)

Would ‘strategically throw up’ (you know when some people will make themselves throw up when they feel like they’re going to be sick so that they can keep going)

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

He doesn’t get drunk often (it is actually pretty rare as he said in UL) and he says that it’s because he doesn’t really like the taste of alcohol

However, that’s only one part of the truth, the other part is that he’s out of control when drunk

Literally, his brain seem to stop cooperating when he reaches a certain point

Will have no filter about what he says (says anything that comes to his mind and that can be problematic)

Could easily get into fights because of that but also because his patience is very thin when drunk. Not that he’ll be looking for a fight but he won’t take any shit (literally the "fuck around and find out" meme)

Would talk to people then looses patience and leave in the middle of the conversation (then the person in front of him is just like « ??? »)

He’s a flirt x10. He’s a flirt sober but when he’s drunk it’s even worst because as I said, he has no filter anymore

He just seem horny and he's not even subtle about it (if he's here with his partner, he'll want to go have a “talk” at some point and no, drink some water that's for the best)

(Which I believe that back in UL, may have caused some « problematic black-out get with », another reason why he doesn’t like to drink - self awareness king)

Now, I said that Nathaniel could very much end up being Armin’s partner in crime

I meant it. It’s just that Nathaniel when drunk just wants to have fun and has no patience, Armin on the other end, can’t stay still more than 2 minutes and just wants to mess around so that kinda of a match

Chaotic duo (the chaos is real, if you thought drunk Armin was hard to manage, you don’t want to imagine drunk Nathaniel by his side)

I can picture them doing shots together even though they hate the taste of it (but just for fun you know)

However, you have to admit that despite the chaos they cause (in the limits of the law ofc. Well, most likely hum hum), they are very entertaining

𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗 :

Clingy drunk. Whether he’s clingy with his girlfriend or his friends, he just can’t help it

It’s not like he’s going to do the emotional speeches and all

It’s more like he’ll randomly hug them. If he’s here with his girl, he always has an arm around her or he’s holding her hand (cute)

If there’s pets where you guys are, you lost him

He’s going to spend the night playing with them (and that way he can avoid talking with the people he doesn’t know, clever)

He would also be the one that want to go on a walk in the middle of the night because why not ? It’s mostly because he wants to get some fresh air (I have the feeling that Kentin wouldn’t feel at his most comfortable in the middle of a party)

He rely on his more extroverted friends to introduce him to other people (because he’d rather don’t to do it on his own)

I think that just like Lysander, Kentin wouldn't really be the type of person to get drunk because he can hardly handle alcohol. Maybe a beer here and there but that’s it. So it got to be a very special occasion for him to get in that state

Would get sleepy from alcohol too

𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊 :

She’s the life of the party

The kind of person that won’t let anyone stay sat for to long and then proceed to drag them to the dance floor

Also a master at making cocktails and she’ll invent a new recipe by the end of the night with the alcoholic beverages’ leftovers

(The drink could seem nasty but it’s really good ??? Like how ???)

Would get political if someone brings up the topic

Because you know my girl don’t joke about that

Really, that could lead to an endless debate about societal issues

But no matter how drunk she is, she still got that charisma and that eloquence (which I wonder how but I just can’t imagine Priya drunk slurring her words ???) so give it a few moments and she has an audience

I mean, she could also get an audience while doing karaoke or dancing ‘cause she really has this energy that captivates people

Great at comforting people who are ‘sad drunk’ or at handling those who are getting out of hand (we can think of the chaotic duo mentioned above)

She knows how to hold her liquor quite well so it’s very rare that she ends up being a mess (queen)

She sounds like so much fun to hang out with honestly

Priya <3 (we won’t talk about her arc in LL, I am still in denial and I intend to keep gaslighting myself into believing that it never happened)

Hope you guys enjoyed it !

#mcl #mclul #mcl priya #mcl nathaniel #mcl alternate life #mcl lysander #mcl castiel #mcl armin #mcl kentin #amour sucre #my candy love lysander #my candy love castiel #my candy love nathaniel #my candy love armin #my candy love kentin #my candy love priya #my candy love #my candy love university life #amor doce

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antimony-medusa · 1 year

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While we're talking about discourse, I want to make sure everybody's on the same page here that like, sometimes you disagree with people on the internet. Sometimes violently. I have seen political opinions I find repugnant show up on my twitter, people have said things about my favourite characters that I want to scream ARE YOU EVEN PAYING ATTENTION at, people have been downright cruel in my presence and I want to vengefully go throw my water at them. A voice in your head at that point is like "you should go send a nasty anon to them".

That is the devil talking.

Like take that literally if you want, or metaphorically, but like, I have been on this internet for over a decade, and I have never seen anything good come out of rage-engaging with stuff that hurts/annoys you. Absolute best scenario is that the person you send the angry message to finds it funny and laughs at it with friends. Worse case scenarios include SWATing, suicide, people shoved back into the closet, mental health breathdowns, people losing their employment, people losing their housing— like the failure cases for engaging in anger on the internet are very very bad.

If you see something that makes you see red— happens! we all see bad takes sometimes!— the thing to do here is Block and then go like watch a favourite video or something. Do not send hate anons, do not send hate anons+ (what on EARTH people think they're contributing to the world by sending gore and porn I don't know), do not for the love of god start doxxing people (that is literally the tool of the enemy, that is what the transphobic hate mobs do, do not do that), do not engage further. Like every website lets you block people, block them and vent to the group chat if neccessary and go watch something to get your heart rate back down.

This includes people doing things you think is inappropriate to/about your streamer, this includes people stanning a guy you think is harmful, this includes harry potter stans pushing TERFdom. Report them if they're breaking TOS, and then Block, and then go watch a kitten video or something. Boosting them to your followers to dunk on them just gives their bad takes more views, and it makes everybody angry, and nothing good comes of it. Starve them of attention and go do something else. Bad takes specifically about poverty? Go donate to the food bank. Horribly racist about immigrants? Go write your MP about increasing the refugees we take in. Dismissive of a real life bad thing your streamer is going though? Go buy streamer stickers/look at good fan art. I cannot overemphasise how Nothing Good comes of feeding the anger monster on the internet. If I can impart anything from having lived through muliple mobbing-on-the-internet cycles it is this.

Just Block And Move On.

#discourse #cw suicide mention #fandom meta

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controversial-blorbo-bracket · 6 months

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Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Light Yagami from Death Note vs Edelgard von Hresvelg from Fire Emblem: Three Houses

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. please be normal in the notes, i will not hesitate to block if you harass people)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Light Yagami:

LOVE: - "He does some messed up things but have you considered: fucked up protagonists rock :)" HATE: - "this man makes me sick. ive genuinely had manic episodes over hating him. i have trauma from his existence in general. not even because of the murder. because hes a sexist cheater :(" - "My cousin and I frequently debate this. I think despite his 'intentions' he's ultimately a despicable character who cares for nobody but himself. She disagrees and says that he is just trying to do the right thing and making a difference in the world (she still thinks his actions are wrong, but she doesn't think he himself is despicable)" BOTH: - "I mean cmon man"

Edelgard Von Hresvelg:

LOVE: "People either claim she's the hero or the irredeemable villain with no in between. She's also my lovely wife who has never done anything wrong in her life." "I never even finished her route and remember nothing of what happens in that game but I DO remember the absolute warzone the fandom turned into because of her. She staged a coup and overthrew the head of the government/church and I think that's pretty cool of her. "But she committed war crimes!" God forbid women do anything." "I lied in the previous question. I don't hate her or love her in fact I have never even played this game. But I keep finding people making up Discourse™ featuring wild accusations of bigotry towards both Edelgard fans and Edelgard haters so I feel that she belongs here. (Also my friend hates her. but HER friend loves Edelgard. So even in my small social circle there is a clear polarization.)" "ok I don't have any solid propaganda because my opinion of her is more positive-neutral, but. she fits the spirit of this poll. trust me." "[three houses spoilers] Yes she started a war but it was the only apparent way to break the chokehold the church had over everyone in Fodlan. Also she’s the only lord you can gay marry so I’m hopelessly biased" "every time i go into the tag its either "edelgard is perfect no notes!!" or "edelgard is literally a fascist!!!". ive never seen someone with a neutral opinion of her. i yearn for battle." "I know very little about her to be quite honest! But good god. As a fire emblem fan for the GBA and engage. I have NEVER seen such a decisive character like Edelgard. Jesus Christ. I still find stuff in those tags. What the hell!!!" "I don’t even go to Fire Emblem but even I know that Edelgard has never done anything wrong, ever, in her entire life, and that if she did any war crimes they were a SUPER effective use of girl power. source: I am a lesbian. (realtalk I genuinely love a noble-minded extremist revolutionary and think Edelgard is a great character, so it’s kind of a shame that opinion on her seems to simply split down the line of “whether the person wants to kiss Edelgard or Dimitri more.”)"

HATE: "So on the one hand, she's fully willing to kill and burn and murder her way to a "better future" at the expense of the present, but on the other hand she's pretty cool and #girlboss. She's also a canon gay romance option, but idk if that makes her more or less problematic." "I just. I understand why people like her. I really do. And I don't have anything new to say for why I dislike her. Edelgard fans and stans have heard everything. She has great points and motivation, but her methods are wrong. She hitches her ideals to the first good opportunity and never reconsiders her allegiance when things go off the rails. She hates the church for "lying to people" and proceeds to lie to her own populace herself in her own route. She gives Claude an opportunity to live because she knows he believes in her goals. But Dimitri and his Kingdom are too beholden to the church to ever be offered such mercy. She herself acknowledges that the change she wants to see is more quickly enacted through war than subtle and slow societal change. She recognizes the human toll of her actions, but she justifies it through flowery language and an insistence that the change needs to happen now or it never will. I honestly find her so interesting, and I agree with a lot of her thoughts about the need for societal change in the world of FE:3H. But people latched onto her and propped her up as someone who can do no wrong. And that just never sat right with me. I just think she’s a hypocrite who got put in front of a shiny means to her end and was immediately blind to every other opportunity around her." BOTH: - "I dont even play fire emblem but I cant escape people not shutting up about how much they love or hate her" - "You said there were no hate answers for her...and I don't really hate her so it wouldn't be right but I wanted to balance things out some. She's the perfect storm of a character who sounds right and progressive and has a route all to herself that doesn't contradict that...but once you play other routes, it becomes clear she's kind of. full of misinformation. And attacking people who don't deserve it. Also a LOT of the divisiveness I'm willing to blame on the writers rather than her, for having her both be Evil Tyrant we NEED to take down and Sad Uwu Baby who just wants to eat cake and laze around and loves You the Player SO MUCH."

#poll #4 submissions #12 submissions #round 2 #yagami light #light death note #light yagami #death note #edelgard von hresvelg #fe3h edelgard #edelgard fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3 houses

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lookedlikethebins · 12 days

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i'll say it twice

Finally! The long awaited Valentine's Day producer george x TA matty oneshot! I'm so sorry for taking as long as I did. Thank you for being patient AND a big thank you to the anon that inspired this fic with the prompt about matty coming to a club/one of george's dj gigs! [set ~6 months since meeting each other] ~5.8k words xo side note: i know nothing about being a DJ but a lot about cyclical anxiety and epic poems so i compensated xo

George had been semi-confident—and a bit overprepared—in his upcoming set, until Matty showed George the readings he’d suggested for the next week of class: Lover’s Discourse. The date of his set hadn’t registered until that moment, sitting with his arm around Matty and feeling embarrassed by his own obliviousness.

Valentine’s Day. Of course, the club wasn’t just holding an event to sell more drinks on a cold, mid-February Friday night; they were hoping to max their margins for the first quarter. For every one patron, there would undoubtedly be another—their date. George included.

The set had to be a bit beyond perfect.

For the next two weeks, each time Matty stopped by after his classes and office hours, George had been closed up in his studio. He would've been there most of the day, starting early in the morning (right after Matty left, if he’d stayed the night) and blowing past every mental stopping point in favor of fixing just this one last thing.

After Matty was left waiting outside for the third time, knocking and trying to ring George—phone on silent and face down on his desk—George gave him the spare key. Each time, Matty let himself in with a loud shout, letting the door slam shut; they’d learned George startled easily when he was working. When he was worried.

While Matty shouldered off his bag—as well as coat, scarf, sweater, and unbuttoned and rolled his cuffs—George would unplug his headphones and continue his work out loud. Matty often settled onto the loveseat beside George’s desk and leaned forward to best see George’s screens without hovering over his shoulder. Despite sometimes getting up to dance, Matty would never grow (outwardly) irritated when George would have to stop and adjust, redo, or take note of an idea for later. The only time Matty spoke during George’s work was to exclaim that a certain part of a song was his fucking favorite.

Most times, Matty’s excitable commentary was the reason George had to stop and make slight changes.

It would be Matty’s first time coming to see George work. Matty had asked if he could before—about other gigs and recent shows George was playing with the boys too—but George struggled to say yes. And thankfully Matty never pushed back or took offense when George stumbled over his answer. Granted, George had taken Matty to his label’s holiday party—and he’d been a hit—but his club set wasn’t for a closed group. There would be a room packed with people looking for the smallest pinhole in George’s quiet (misunderstood to be “stoic”) exterior, hoping to peep in on his private life.

But, even with all that fear and discomfort with the unfamiliar, it truly was sort of time for it, wasn’t it?

---

“Oh, fuck,” Matty said with a burst of laughter that seemed to surprise even him. “it’s loud.”

They had entered the club through the back entrance meant for employees. George made sure to pull around to the parking lot purposefully obscured by bins and out-of-place planted shrubs. They used the side streets and alleys of nearby buildings to get in without being seen by the group of patrons lined up outside, waiting to get in.

While George had been getting his bag out of the car, Matty stood by the hood, tapping his foot to the muffled beat sneaking through the club’s opening doors and sparse windows. But now, inside and standing on the farthest edge of the dance floor, Matty didn’t need to move his feet to the music; the floor was nearly moving for him.

It was what George loved the most: how the room, the physical space, came alive when music was loud—almost too loud. The air felt like it was breathing on its own from the shear pulse of the speakers.

It terrified George to think Matty might not like that feeling. The encasement of music. The ever-shrinking proximity to other people, while verbal communication became impossible and almost moot. All George ever had in those moments was the same unavoidable and inarguable beat moving him to keep time with the other bodies around him. That feeling of sharing the same heartbeat. He could live in the same suspended moment with someone, just a few minutes at a time.

“Is that… okay?” George said. He had steered Matty toward the back lounge for the invited guests and hired talent. Once George closed the door behind Matty, the wall of sound became a void, ringing white noise. “Do you want earplugs or something? I, uh, I probably have a pair somewhere. I’m sure I do.”

“No, no—I don’t mind that it’s loud. Just sort of forgot. Can’t tell you last time I’ve been to a proper club.” Matty placed his hand on George’s arm, gently squeezing it, before leading him further into the room and away from the door.

“Not a fan?” George asked. He immediately grabbed a bottle of water from the oblong coffee table. He twisted off the cap and handed it to Matty. It was Friday; he’d had his early and late classes.

“Just prefer a place I can sit down,” Matty shrugged. “And if I’m feeling wild: hear my friends talk.”

“You’re really not supposed to chitchat at a club.”

“Name another time I’ve been quiet that long, George.”

George paused. “Okay, so you might actually hate it here.” He was trying to tell a joke, but his chest tightened and twisted into a knot. Like he forgot how to create a laugh. He couldn’t.

“George, love, stop fretting—please? I’m starting to think I’m making you worse.” Matty swung his hand out to playfully hit George on the arm. The open water bottle made a small damp spot on his sleeve; luckily, he was only wearing a short sleeve, cotton shirt. “Pretty sure you’ve been doing all this before I ever showed up. You know what you’re up to—you’re very talented. I’m just here to listen, take a vow of silence, have a drink or two.”

“Oh, I should go get you one, shouldn’t I?” George muttered, looking at his watch and then the clock on the wall—they were a minute apart: George’s watch a minute behind. He was already floundering. The first time he brought Matty—any boyfriend at all for that matter—to one of his shows and everything felt like it was developing into a disappointment. A stumble. Two left feet. George could hear the music muffled in the other room; he just wanted to stand submerged in it.

“That—No, George. That’s not why I said that. I’m not angling for you to go and—Look, I just want to drink after I had to listen to someone wedge Ecstasy of Influence into our discussion for the third class in a row.”

“But I should go get them—they won’t charge me.”

“Oh, so it’s about showing off, not chivalry…” Matty said, offsetting his jaw as he crossed his arms and smirked at George.

“No! I—Matty, it’s Valentine’s Day," George said, taking out his phone. His phone matched his watch but not the wall clock.

“And you’re already going to get laid. I’m not sure why you think you have to butter me up—"

George sputtered in surprise and embarrassment as he heard someone talking just outside the door. “I meant, it’s Valentine’s Day so they’re going to be up-charging, I’m sure. Let me get you a drink. They don’t charge the people they hire.”

“You must not know what happens when a cute guy like me goes up to most bars,” Matty said, lifting one eyebrow. “I won’t pay for anything; Fuck, I’ll barely even need to be paying attention.”

George had never considered how Matty was as a single guy. He’d never really told him. Or maybe George had never asked. There wasn’t much for George to tell Matty, so maybe he’d forgotten people had dating histories that weren’t accidentally shallow or convenient. Had first loves before their late twenties.

The club owner opened the door while still finishing the tail end of his hallway conversation. “—on in twenty, okay? Yeah—George! Good to see you, early as always. What I like to see. JJ walked in five minutes before she was supposed to go on. Again.”

“She likes the spontaneity,” George said with a shrug, placing his bag down in one of the mismatched armchairs. “I can’t argue her style. She’s always great.”

“I just wish she could be spontaneous and not raise my blood pressure,” he said. “You ready to go on in half an hour?” George nodded, checking all three times again. “Great. Anything you need—you can go out and float around JJ when you’re ready. Get either of you a drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Matty said. He placed a hand between George’s shoulders as he hunched down to look in his bag. George’s nervous energy was never something Matty could ignore. “George, did you want something? Or do you want me to get it for you.” Matty was teasing, probably feeling the tension in the muscles of George’s back. Maybe hoping for a laugh.

Instead, Matty’s kind and gentle smile—eyes following George’s hands as they continued to jostle everything in every pocket—was distracted by the owner’s follow up question: “I’m sorry—and I mean no disrespect—but who are you again? George, if this is a new label rep, I’m sorry I’ve forgotten again—”

“Label rep?” George turned toward Matty, who was still touching his back with one hand and had begun to hold his bicep lightly with the other. It was certainly no way to represent a professional relationship.

Matty looked down at himself. “I just came from teaching—Dammit, George, why didn’t you tell me I look like a corporate drone? Is it the tie? It is, isn't it?”

Finally, George smiled. The plane of his back under Matty’s hand relaxing as he laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t look like a drone, okay? And Matty isn’t my PR guy. He’s—” George had never actually called him his boyfriend in front of anyone before; at the holiday party, the moment everyone saw Matty walk in with George, they knew this was The Date George had after studio sessions so often. “He’s just here with me. No business.”

George couldn’t hear the music as clearly anymore, blood rushing in his ears. Matty moved his hand along George’s shoulder blades, slowly and soothingly. Finally, George’s fingers found the loose pair of foam earplugs in the front pocket of his bag. The last place left. He righted himself and held them out to Matty. He ignored the conversation he’d left paused with the owner for as long as it took Matty to tire from arguing he didn’t need them. He dropped his hand from George’s bicep to take them, his other hand not leaving George’s back.

The clock on the wall kept ticking, faster than the one on his wrist.

“Matty’s going to uh… he’s going to be up there with me.” George pointed loosely toward the door; he didn’t know what was out there, technically. Without being sure where the music was coming from, without being able to feel it faintly pulsing in his chest, he didn’t even know where the dancefloor was.

“Up where?” Matty asked.

“The stage. When I’m doing my set.”

“I didn’t think I would be allowed.” Matty shot the owner a quick look before adjusting his tie.

“Of course you are! But only if you want to. I won’t be offended if you’d much rather... not.” George wanted to give Matty the option to pick how he wanted to spend his evening. How to make it better without George intervening, even by accident, and making things worse—

“George,” Matty said softly. George blinked and realized the owner had already left the room; no commotion, no remark, no insistence Matty become part of the monolithic, pulsing, impersonal crowd. No pushback. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot, you know that, right?” Matty said. He stood in front of George and placed both hands on his shoulders, as if keeping him planted on the ground. George didn’t know he’d been feeling an urge to pace until then. Until he couldn’t. “What’s got you this upset?”

“I always get nervous before I perform anything. You know that. You know me.”

Matty had been sitting on that studio couch every day for those two weeks. He’d been over when George accepted calls for other gigs and immediately interrupted his own train of thought to jot down his immediate thoughts and plans—afraid he’d forget the “genius” of the impulse. Afraid his instincts weren’t really instincts at all, just moments when inspiration would take pity on him.

While talking about his students’ coursework, Matty had told George about the idea of ancient Greek poets praying at the beginning of their works. Of asking the gods of inspiration—the muses, actually; George remembered feeling embarrassed by his own surprise and sense of clarity by this fact and connection—before embarking on their epics. The invocation, Matty had called it with a flourish of his hand.

Matty described it as if the idea was antiquated; no one thought creativity or inspiration was so out of their hands that it had to be requested at the beginning of every project. But sometimes, when George could feel expectations compounding and very separate things interconnecting into one daunting and terrifying moment, he wished there was someone he could hand things off to. Trust he had solid instincts when he was mid-set and suddenly becoming aware of his own hands and expression and body and position with the person next to him—the new DJ that just arrived and hovering too close and asking too many questions, but being so polite and was someone George should be very eager to show the ropes because he never had that... To trust he would have no need to second guess, critiquing himself for too long and missing the window to execute his plan. The swing of his set broken while George was left standing in horrifying, reverberating silence and—

“This isn’t nerves, George. You look like you might pass the fuck out. Or throw up. Maybe both.” Matty ran his hands across George’s shoulders and laced them together behind his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s not me making you this anxious, is it?”

“No, of course not,” George said quickly. “I just want everything to be perfect—”

“Well, it can’t be.”

“I-I know. I know. Nothing can be perfect,” George mumbled, trying to echo Matty’s frequent and always kind encouragement. What George tried to remember when he was feeling his anxiety bind tighter with the feeling things were slipping out of his control. George had invoked Matty’s words a lot in the past week in particular. “Best-case scenario, then. I want the very best-case scenario. For you. I want you to have a good time and—”

“Do you not think I’m having a good time?”

“My set isn’t for another,” George looked at the clock on the wall only. “fifteen minutes. We’ve just gotten here and… literally stood in a room while I’m…” trying not to freak out or throw up or just blurt out that I— “That’s nothing very exciting.”

“Hey, that’s not all we did today; you picked me up from class, we had dinner, you let me read to you that botched essay intro, you told me about that tour invite and the boys, you invited me to see you do your job. George,” Matty stopped to reset his worried expression with another warm smile. “George, you do know you’re the reason I came, right? Not to experience the best DJ set of my life or have one too many and convince your band to dance with me, or even know any of the songs you’re going to play. I just came here because it meant spending time with you. And that’s why I’m having a good time. That’s it. This isn’t a performance review. I am not qualified for that in the slightest.”

“But—”

“George,”

“I’m not trying to argue,” George said. Matty nodded, moving both of their heads. Matty carefully ran one hand up and down the back of George’s neck, encouraging him to continue. “But… this is sort of your first… event with me. Next to me. Associated with me.”

“… And? We talked about this, right? It’s not industry people who know you, so I’ll have to be more… aware of what I’m doing. But just at first, like you said—I get it, George. I really do.”

“No, no. It has nothing to do with that… Or maybe it does. Fuck,” George stopped to take a breath, forcing it out through his pursed lips. “I want to do something you can be proud of. Be someone you don’t mind admitting is your date. I don’t want to embarrass you—"

“Embarrass?” Matty repeated with a soft but tense laugh. He cleared his throat and George could hear a sudden wetness sink his words. “What a preposterous fucking idea. And, actually, even more so: the idea I didn’t come here already proud of you. That I’m not already more than willing to walk out there and tell everyone who’s even remotely paying attention to me—free fucking drinks or not—” Matty gave them both the chance to laugh, the thickness falling away from Matty’s voice and some of the weight shaking off from George’s shoulders. “That I came here with you. I’ll go anywhere with you—anywhere you’re willing to have me.”

George dipped his head down to kiss Matty, quickly and without invitation for any lengthier response, considering the moment and environment. He wanted to say it. He wanted to tell Matty right then—without the expectation of anything in return. Just simply say. But that was sort of the point of the set. George hoped he could say it without the words; without the direct chance of rejection.

Matty kissed George on the cheek, hands sliding from his neck to smooth his collar and flip his silver earring so the engraving of the dagger’s hilt faced outward. His knuckle grazed George’s jaw as he stilled the jewelry from swinging.

“You’re going to be incredible—as you always are.” Matty said, holding the sides of George’s face. “Like, that’s not me setting a ridiculous bar. That’s actually sort of the baseline for you. Anything beyond that will just be genius—which, also very possible, I’m finding.”

George leaned against one of Matty’s hands—warm and firm and unflinching from the request for support—and sighed, a sense of relief hitting him.

George remembered what he was doing there. He could feel the music in the other room. He smiled. And Matty, the central reason for the tailoring of the next hour of George’s night, smiled back.

They waited in silence, George not trusting himself to say anything else. Not wanting to spoil it.

---

The music was too loud. But that was sort of the point. George was up on stage, feeling the rolling pulse of the room and the music, and didn’t have the space or sense in his head to hear himself think about anything other than just that.

The lights, flickering and flashing and swirling. The faces in the crowd—at least those he could make out—lighting up and excitedly reacting to the change in song, speaking to the person beside them—the only person who could hope to hear them.

The person beside him, waiting until George lowered his headphones to lean in to talk to him. Both of Matty's hands gently holding George's forearm. Matty's chest pressed against George's bicep and shoulder as he leaned in, trying to shout in his ear over the music coming from the speakers on all sides of them.

“I’m going to go get a drink, okay?” Matty said. George only understood when Matty pointed at the blue backlit bar directly across the dance floor. He’d been standing next to George for the entire first half of his set, enthusiastic and smiling. Bouncing and dancing. Trying to get George to do more than his usual simple sway to the music—Oh, come on! I know you know how to move your hips a bit better than that, love.

George gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Matty held up two fingers and lifted his eyebrows. He pointed to George’s empty glass resting on the low railing surrounding the raised stage platform. It had been a vodka soda that, thankfully, had barely had much of the first ingredient. George shook his head and nodded toward the bar with his continued smile.

Matty stepped down from the platform and began weaving his way around the dance floor. He avoided all the clueless drunk dancers, almost bodies possessed by the music, and nosey patrons that bothered to look up at the DJ and see the new face now walking among them, but managed to bump directly into Adam. Which meant within seconds, and a silent cheer of surprise, Matty had also found the rest of the band that had come: Ross, John, and Polly.

As if discussed beforehand, the moment they all saw Matty they collectively looked up at George and waved. As if they knew George would be watching Matty from the slightly higher vantage point. Because of course George was. He answered them all with a quick grin so they would turn away again. After a moment of gesturing and over-enunciated (but mostly unheard) sentences, Ross walked with Matty to the bar. The other three migrated to the side of the dance floor with a cementing nod and lift of a hand: We’ll wait right here.

Watching Matty struggle to get through the crowd to the bar, George quickly rearranged his mental lineup of songs. What use was Matty knowing—dating—the DJ if George played all his favorite songs while he stood in line, cramped in his reach for the bartender between Ross and the back of a guy with shoulders practically as wide as Matty was tall.

For a moment, being able to see Matty from a distance was sort of romantic. It was a thrill to be able to take all of Matty in at once—when most of their romance typically happened up close, barely enough distance for George to see the lips he was about to kiss. From his vantage point, George could watch Matty lean forward on the bar, his weight shifting onto his left foot with his right hovering just above the ground. Could watch as Matty began bouncing his foot with an unknown pulse of anxiety, impatience, or anticipation; George couldn’t see Matty’s expression to know.

George looked back at the decks, needing to focus to ensure his secondary ordering of songs transitioned smoothly. He looked back up at Matty—to see if he’d have to sub in another song before he was back on the dance floor—and saw him angled back toward the rest of the room, smiling and chatting, his face more in view. The only face George couldn’t see was that of the man talking to Matty, one hand braced against the bar railing and the other quickly—and so smoothly George barely noticed—fiddling with the end of Matty’s tie.

George checked his watch, trying to give himself somewhere else to look. He lowered his head and gave himself the chance to hide his flushing and crimson embarrassment. He didn’t mind someone else flirting with Matty—George couldn’t be upset with other men that fell under the very same spell he did after their first introduction. No, George felt embarrassed he’d seen them, that he had been watching at all. That he was observing when maybe Matty had no such idea. Exposing a moment perhaps Matty would rather not have George see; invading Matty’s privacy and knowing something Matty would always think George didn’t know. What a terrible basis for lo—

Finally, George looked back up. Resisting to do so almost like telling himself not to think of something—and only prompting further rumination. George saw Matty shaking his head, hand resting on his own chest, as if holding his heart. When the man nudged Matty’s foot with his own—yet something else George felt he should never have seen—Matty lifted his hand to point at George.

Four sets of eyes were now on him: Ross, Matty, the stranger, and now the bartender returning with Matty’s drink. George froze. He didn’t know what Matty had said about him in their conversation; he didn’t want to betray his point by doing the wrong thing. George had told Matty to keep things lowkey for the night while George acclimated to (very subtly) exposing his personal life, but with someone flirting with him why else would he be pointing at George? Surely, it was romantic sort of point—literal romantic gesture—right?

But how could George ensure Matty knew it was okay he brought it up, that he was happy and so proud to be up there but if only because it meant Matty could turn and point and mouth something that looked a hell of a lot like: that’s my boyfriend.

Before George could short-circuit much further, Matty put his fingers to his lips and blew George a kiss. He then folded his hand at the knuckles in a flapping wave. Almost like a joke. A tease. A giddy gesture that had George feeling like he was growing sunburnt under the minimal, flashing lights. A youthful, almost teenage, motion done with complete honesty and infatuation. For a moment, George felt relief, felt certain for a moment that his very ridiculous and overthought plan would work...

With his drink in hand—and small black straw between his lips—Matty started going back toward the rest of the group. His eyes were busy searching each face he passed for Adam or Polly he didn’t look back up at George at first. It was just as well; George was already so anxious, he was sure if Matty looked directly at him as the next song started, his entire heart would’ve dropped into his shoes. Maybe bruised, maybe shattered, maybe resilient enough to bounce back up.

Although, as the song started, George felt like his heart had stopped. Its internal pulse absent from his ears as the beat around them took over, pounding against his chest, ribs, temples. George dissolved into the music; hoping that the joy and repeatedly expressed excitement Matty had shown listening to it in George’s studio would appear on the dance floor in front of him.

Just one more time, George. Play that part just one more time… For me?

After a deep breath, George forewent any subtlety and made no effort to hide he was watching for Matty’s reaction. He pulled his headphones down around his neck. The sound diluted into the vastness of the room, in comparison to being fed directly into George’s ears, but he preferred it. He wanted the space and breathing room. At least for the moment.

Matty stopped his gesticulating and conversation with John, pausing as he registered the song. His pivot from speaking to emphatically starting to sing along was split-second. Adam stood sort of confused, amused, and dumbfounded as Matty’s apparently dire point faded away and he started dancing: swaying mostly his hips with the beat and holding his one arm up, while the other steadily held his drink in front of him.

Matty lowered his arm and went to take another sip just as the chorus was about to hit again, his usual stopping point when listening with George, but the song swung back around to the start of the verse. Just that part, one more time. For him.

Matty’s declared favorite, all over again. Right on time—jumping to that exact thump of the brutally danceable kick drum. George wasn’t sure Matty would even notice; he probably hadn’t heard the song that many times to know its structure the way George had to. Oh, maybe it was all a bit ridiculous to think—

But Matty had stopped dancing. His lips still moved along to the lyrics, but now like trying to whisper across the cacophony to George. The lyrics almost being stripped and returned to its poetic form. Spoken with slight disbelief.

While everyone else seemed slightly confused—feeling more betrayed by their memory than upset about any music decision or direction—Matty continued to melt right back into the song. Dancing just as he had, holding the back of George’s chair with gleeful distraction.

As George began to fade between the songs—no threat of the verse cycling a third time—Matty pushed his empty glass into Ross’s hands and began hurriedly snaking back through the crowd to the platform. Despite his evident excitement—shifting and shuffling his feet while he pulled at his sleeves—Matty still stood and waited for George to give a cue he was finished with his task at hand.

Admittedly, George wanted to stay in the momentary reprieve between his gesture, the reaction, and his direct confession—the purpose of it all. In that moment, he could only be relieved that he’d done it in the first place. He hadn’t yet had enough time to worry or feel embarrassed by his own ornately constructed vulnerability.

But if George stayed in that moment forever, he’d never hear Matty’s reaction. Good or bad, it would still be Matty. And that sure as hell beat a solitary moment of acquiescing to fear.

George lowered his headphones again and turned to Matty with the very best look of neutrality and obliviousness he could. Matty was looking back with that minute, timid smile: the one meant for George and almost undetectable by onlookers. A glimpse at the joy thrumming inside of him; almost too full to even attempt to express; settling for an undersell rather than falling short.

“Need something, Matty?”

“I love that song!” Matty leaned in toward George’s ear. His hand gently curled around George’s hanging safely under the table and out of view. He tugged and pulled George toward him, able to slightly lower—soften—his voice. “You know I love that song—thank you.”

“I-I wanted you to have a good time! A chance to know some songs—your favorites!”

“You didn’t have to do that—what about everyone else here?”

George pulled back to better see Matty’s entire face. “Yeah? What about them?”

Matty’s smile faltered as he lowered his eyes to George’s earring, now swinging in the air after being pressed down by his headphones. His lips parted as if he was going to speak but then pressed them back together.

“Matty,” George said, although not loud enough. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Hm?” Matty moved his fingers behind his ear—as if his hair was even remotely long enough—to politely hint he couldn’t hear George.

“I…” George cleared his throat, hoping it would still be there even if he couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything but the music flooding his body just like the flush creeping up his chest and over his cheeks. “I love you.”

“What?” Matty cupped his ear and leaned forward toward George.

George found himself repeating the sentence, but far softer. “I—I love you.”

Matty lowered his hand and looked at George with a furrowed brow. “I-I’m sorry, George. I can’t hear you!” He gestured toward his ears with splayed out hands, mimicking the pulsing, pounding soundwaves thudding against him from the surrounding speakers. “Don’t forget though, okay? Tell me later?"

George nodded, smiling. Like he could ever forget.

"Sure, yeah. Later!"

Like he was ever thinking about anything else.

---

After his set, despite the band congratulating him and offering a few rounds on them, George wanted to go home. Wanted to get out of the noise. He was beginning to feel spoken over, crowded, and pushed out by the thumping music—then even more so when it was no longer him behind the decks.

Thankfully—and once again forgetting the holiday—no one teased George for turning in earlier than them. He and Matty were able to be back in his car, sitting in the parking lot, thirty minutes after his set finished.

“George, you’re incredible, you know that right?” Matty was speaking too loudly, but George didn’t mind; his ears were ringing too. And it also meant Matty laughed a bit louder than he usually did, too. “I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a very long time.”

“I’m glad you came,” George smiled, his own laugh sounding muffled to his ears but feeling stronger in his chest. Matty lifted himself from his seat to lean over the console and kiss George, quickly but firmly.

“Thank you for inviting me, George. I was happy to be there with you not on business,” he said. “Happy to be your date tonight. Proud to be—even if we’re still the only people here that really know I was.”

George thought about saying it again—a third time—but he didn't think he could stomach the trade of an oblivious, neutral response to his intended confession for open, undeniable, almost amplified (possible) rejection.

Instead, he kissed Matty again. He braced his hand on the console and caught Matty's lips again before he moved all the way back into the passenger seat. Matty broke the kiss—without pulling away—with a near-muffled, definitely mumbled confession of his own:

“I heard you, you know,” Matty said when George inquisitively pulled away at the sound spoken against his lips. “After you played my song—what I told you not to forget; I heard you. I-I just wanted to see if you’d say it again. If you wanted to—If you meant it.”

“Do—would you like me to... say it again?” George asked. It was a nicer response than quietly pleading, please don’t break my heart. I’m sorry if I—

“No, no, you don’t owe me another one," Matty held the sides of George's face, anticipating his emotional and physical retreat and apology. "Especially since I still haven’t answered.”

“You don’t have to right now. Let's just go home and—"

“George, I think I should tell the man I’m in love with that I do love him, don’t you? Seems like a reasonable thing to do.”

George reached for Matty's face, holding him and trying to get a good look at the man in love with him. Trying to spot the moment Matty would break, would maybe lie and soften what he'd admitted to. Matty held his joyful—and increasingly teary—look at George.

"You do?"

"Yes! Yes, George. I love you! Of course I do." Matty laughed and pulled George in again. His hands dropped from holding George's face to rest flat on his chest. Feel the beat of his heart.

"Wait," George muttered, turning his face to break the kiss but not pull away. "Say it one more time... For me?"

#gatty #gatty fic #matty x george #george daniel x matty healy #producer george and TA matty fic #andfacedown fics #(not yet i know but shh)#producer george oneshot #THANK YOU for waiting & enjoy MWAH!!

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