#until then it's speculation fodder!!

[sudokuplayer]

MY LOVE IS A WEAPON THROWN ONTO THE OBLIVION OF YOUR BODY (taken from booklet of original art and essays by Sufjan Stevens, written to accompany his new album Javelin)

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1.MY LOVE My first love was an involuntary sound – the music of the spheres – a subdued, white-noise shuddering of my heart, a fluster of hummingbird vibrations that I could taste in the prenatal hemispheres of my mouth, body against body and brain against brain, two conjoined selves conjuring an off-shore thunderstorm in the horizontal distance, dazzling with flashes of metallic music and elemental chaos in the safe harbor of my mother’s womb. There was no light and no dark, no semblance of simile or semaphore. There was only the blurred and audible presence of a distant and divine voice hovering above the waters where I balanced between the prism of absence and presence on an inflatable dirigible of sea foam, wandering into the oleaginous abyss with a half-smile of hazardry and wizardry – my maiden voyage into the “unbeknownst” of oblivion. For what did I really know at this point in my primordial mindlessness? Nothing at all. I was struck dumb, created from ignorance and ether, first without function or features, then without order or form. I was sensation and consciousness postponed, a wet and placid portion of monotonous fruit cut in quarters awaiting heaven’s blessing. My only occupation at this point was to occupy, be occupied, preoccupy, and prevail nature in a womb-world of benevolence and buoyancy. The music of the heartbeat of the universe danced me to sleep. Within this realm, I was love and life supreme, undivided by thought, word and deed, a small promise kept until the act of doing would undo me for good. My birth was my undoing. And then I was born into oblivion.

2.IS I remember in college, falling in love for the first time, two spring months of rapture, residing on the tail end of a helium balloon. I was so giddy about everything: washing the dishes, tying my shoes, scrambling eggs, binding books, pulling berries off juniper trees. My infatuation had such an arrogant persuasion on the world around me. Everything as metaphor ascribed with romance. I remember, while mowing lawns on the college campus, finding an injured fledgling crow by the dining hall. I carried it to the biology lab, where we called a woman who ran an animal sanctuary from her home. She met us on a bike with a wicker basket. “You are doing the universe a great favor,” she said, holding the bird to her breast, like Mother Goose. The event provided endless fodder: for prose poems and folk songs and long conversations on the roof of the aspirin factory, where we got drunk on Boone’s Farm sangria, speculating on cosmic intentions and the order of the universe. So much meaning, so little time. I was young and dumb and in love. Guided by a perverse curiosity and a voracious sensation-of-the-imagination pivoting at the tip of my tongue, I marveled at the mysteries of life laid out before me, awaiting in the calm commotion between innocence and experience.

3.A WEAPON And then experience pummeled me. Many years later, after the long-suffering exhaustion of life had driven me into the bleak underbelly of realism, my most profound thought was sad and static: that nothing really matters, nobody loves me, and loneliness would always be my most devoted companion. In my new sobering worldview, absent of love, I began to encounter everything as an object without meaning, without modifier. The homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway was just a homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway. There was no metaphor, no rapture, no cosmic intentions. I had to ask myself: does this make the man, the newspaper, the subway, or myself any less meaningful? No. Quite the opposite. For what resided in that substantial vacancy where I was always prone to symbolize the world to death is exactly what I needed right then: Opportunity. Presence of Mind. Peace On Earth. Stable Stoicism. Absence of Metaphor. Responsibility. And Hard Facts. That was my prayer: to shake off the doting artistry of an over-eager poet with a proclivity to create dreams from doldrums; to approach the world as a concrete object, a thing to be held, not a thing to behold, or allegorized; to remain at peace and in careful jurisprudence in spite of the resentful intonation of my overarching loneliness that devastated innocent bystanders with all the magic castles of the imagination. I told myself: I must snuff out the candle of candy-corn dreams. I must soldier on like a dead-end daydream undeterred. I must be steadfast in the stolid presence and essence of common sense and survival. I must be true to life internal and reside in resignation at last.

4.THROWN My second love was less ecstatic, but more tragic: the “gift” of sight – an elemental flash of lightning, which struck me like a bag of metal shavings thrown out onto ice reflecting back at the centerpiece of my sternum. A sucker punch to the chest. My cold consciousness came into sharp focus, rattled by illuminating waves invading everything around me. The light was loud and extraordinary. And even with my eyes closed, my pupils began pontificating at the pornography of sight, and I was momentarily carved into madness. Seeing is believing is birth. I shuddered and shirked at the tangible evidence of something else – the others – the imposition of a sensation outside myself, in which everything was separated into opposable armies: the land from the waters, the air from the earth, the seasons from the doldrums, the seen from the unseen, sin from sainthood, light from dark, good from evil. Everything was put in its place by the curse of namesake. The world was now before me, beneath me, above me, and ultimately against me, a pressure foot pressed down on all sides. I felt a cold claustrophobia, empty and alone, trans-natal and tragic, baffled by the violence of this new environmental context. And to think I was just a silly beansprout of a thing shivering under the medical lights, squirming like an open earthworm, now tasked with this terrible act of naming. God gave me a pen and a pad of parchment paper. “Transcribe your feelings and your findings,” she said. “Do your thing. First thought, best thought.” I did as I was commanded, a dutiful sea urchin inching its way to the possibility of words and wisdom.

5.ONTO A world without language was once the indication of certain death. Soundless, voiceless, nameless vapor. A typography of empty vessels. The void! But now, what of the tragedy of names, spoken into existence with the demystification of words? I was culprit and complicit, identifying all the divergences, differentiations, variations, permutations, diversities, dichotomies and double entendres. Categorizing the animals, cutting them down to size, organizing the parts of the body with the parts of speech, a fanatical grammar-game of possession, domination and death. I had to ask myself: Is this manner of identification in the name of higher knowledge even if it disregards purpose, analysis, and compassion (observation absent of intention)? And how could it be undertaken without idolatry and ulterior motive? I desired the objectivity of the photography of the baby-brain, whose fuzzy visionary reception was a delightful nebula of perfumed consciousness and joy. I wanted to see the world coherently and without discretion, discernment, reduction, and deduction – unintelligible intelligence. Instead I began to perceive how intimate knowledge generates prosperity (fullness) and progeny (fruitfulness) – of ideas and offspring. To be “made known” was to be consummated: “Adam knew Eve” – intercourse as discourse (knowledge as physical/sexual engagement). To know someone was to take possession (to gain access, in confidence and with confidentiality). The exchange would potentially unveil the secret knowledge between lovers (the nominative ordinances of arousal) – wherein posterity would become the observable antecedents of this sacred wisdom, and pleasure would be its misfortune (of infatuation and love, of chaos and order). My sexual discourse began to die a slow death of observation and objectification, a nonsense category of substances seen and deemed believable, predicating a cosmic break from the universe: a psychic rebirth, from which invisible things transformed into figures of speech, wherein figures of speech were left dead in the wake of rivulets and rivers, drowning in a molten waterfall of dread, where they would meet their maker in linguistic whimsy. My death was now new life. My reincarnation, a reverse sublimation. I was made known; therefore, I knew nothing.

6.THE For a short time, my pet peeves were my shortcomings: dry skin in the morning – brushing off the bed sheets with bits of outer insulation from my body. Was I molting? I needed to drink more bitter herbs, I thought. I had chronic stomach pain, below the clavicle, a small fist of air. Sweet antacid, mint leaves, fennel seed tea. Invisible Anxiety. The pain in my leg: a hypochondriac’s dream. Soothing myself with palm oil and camphor. Small applications on the surface. At dinner with guests, supplementing aspirin with ice-water, saying very little otherwise, a friend agreed with everyone’s assessment: “Yes, sometimes you are cold and unfeeling. You could warm it up a little.” My apparent coolness – was it a matter of objective safety? That remote vacancy which I brought to every engagement, keeping the world at arm’s length, the anthropologist’s vantage point, sustaining the presumptive: was that my vocation – the judicious spectator, an odd outlier outlining all this activity while staying behind the line of sight? As the youngest sibling, I was always evaluating my older sisters with fierce judgment from the corner of the room, just out of reach: eavesdropping on phone conversations, catching glimpses of padded bras, curling irons, and maxi pads passed between casual doorways. Taking stock of the panoply of premature adulthood (teenage pregnancy), unruly rebellion (sneaking out at night), clumsy and combative excursions with our wicked step-mother (cat fights with elegantly finger-nailed fisticuffs). I watched from a dutiful distance, careful not to engage, harboring a catalog of tragicomic events and all their moral assessments in order to avoid the worst-case scenario for myself. I was in the world, but not of it. I learned from the mistakes of others: that I was nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen, potential energy. I learned from the mistletoe to keep watch overhead so as to avoid the dangling modifier of accidental affection. I learned from the stone in my shoe to keep walking through the pain with a staggering refrain in my step, a constant reminder of the brokenness of my body and the indefatigable self-loathing of my own self-consciousness.

7.OBLIVION My third love was a surprise affection – ticklish touching and tender swaddles of terry towels and cotton cloth wrapped in armfuls of goose down feathers transfixed in the careful undertaking of childcare. A sensual delight! I was an object to be objectified, a thing to squeeze and prickle, caress and carry about in a breadbasket. I grew from a pinecone to a pine tree, from a newt to a dinosaur, from a poppy-seed to a poppy flower bursting with fireworks. This love then transferred its fornications onto something wet, wild and ornithological – a flying, feathery python ascending to its countenance as a bastion of bridegrooms in a flaming aviary chariot of leathery kisses all aimed at my elbows. Hope is a thing with bird feeders. So I watched the feathered fowl crowd around the seeds and suet, grubs and grains with dinosaur intensity, beaks and claws doing their vast prehistoric business with messy execution. My lovers cawed at their community of plumy mishaps like transcendental mother hens: nuthatch and creeper, tanager and titmouse, blue jay and junco gallivanting together like an armful of woolen throw blankets clapping the dust from their ornamental features. Our fairy dance of foreplay lasted for days. Cat calls as birdsong with balloons, iambic pentameter poems, chimes that rhymed with clanging crystals hung on fishing line, and all the fanciful costumes with sequins and fringe, flowered bell bottoms, metallic body suits, reggae music, ballroom dancing, charm bracelets, diamond rings, glimmering little earrings with fly-fishing ornaments, and, on the last day, a very long and serious monologue about global warming. Our lovemaking was quick and witty, a little slutty and clumsy – nothing more than a jaunt, a quick choreography of slaps and body slams, two pigeons in a mosh pit, working things out in juvenilia. Nature had done its work. Afterward we lounged together in the afterglow with soft pillow talk and dreams of nest eggs and parenting, protecting, foraging, feeding, and changing diapers, all the domestic labors of love. But for now, in a warm bird bath, sunning ourselves with a glistening glow, I could only think of the sweet bliss of here and now, the wetness of loving kisses on my nape, my neck, my back, my rump, my foreshortened wings and a sweet nectar nightcap. Hope is a thing deferred, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

8.OF My fourth love was peripatetic: a suitcase stored in an overhead bin on an airplane. Things beget things beget responsibilities. I procrastinated my life by traveling far from it. A day before the voyage, I stayed up late in the polar forces of the night, diligently packing the baggage on the couch, opened up like can of tuna fish, a glass of lemon juice on the nightstand (master cleanse), the Siamese cat washing itself, the dollar store dishes in the sink, my dirty clothes in a paper bag. The last time I had left for this kind of trip, my things were in boxes in one room on the second floor of a gated town house in God-knows-where, New York. Now everything had been transferred as in a swap meet, boxes upon boxes, things upon things, other voices, other rooms. The living room was a labyrinth of speculative journeys, a crossword puzzle of travel prompts. Outside, gale force winds rose to the occasion, knocking on the windows like unwanted guests. I imagined the weather overtaking everything in an apocalyptic frenzy: cups and saucers trembling in tongues, plastic wrap coming undone in a transparent wedding train, pillowcases falling over our heads like hard hats, ceiling fans circumnavigating the neighborhood like helicopter rides, the colored crayons on the kitchen shelf thrown asunder to make slapdash hieroglyphs all over the window panes, the mysterious penmanship of the gods! My mind was preoccupied by disaster, a force majeure, an act of God, a ball of yarn, and the four horses of the Apocalypse. I wanted nothing of it: this origami suitcase lifestyle of travel and transition. I wanted to be here and now. I wanted silence, solace, and stillness. I wanted the simplest of things: a bowl of vanilla ice cream, a warm bath, and a quiet place to sit and stitch my hand-crafted cross-stitch of rainbows and sailboats framing a sexy cartoon portrait of Dionne Warwick diligently working the lines for the Psychic Friends Network from way back in the 1990s, when every solution to every problem was just a phone call away.

9.YOUR History repeats itself, defeats itself, cheats itself, berates and beats itself. I am not historic. I am histrionics. I must hate my mother and my father. I must hate myself and take up the cross and be born again. In this way, my fifth love was an immutable shadow following me with sticky tricks and schemes, a cancerous contamination of the mind that could only be cured with the deadly venom of a cone snail. I couldn’t quite shake it, the cobalt-blue memory of a ghost haunting my sophistry, a prescient reminder that the knowledge of faith and the substance of hope were right behind me this entire time (and not something to pursue, or follow, like an ornamental object on the horizon, dazzling, elusive and alive in the distant future). The Divine Inside was a “previously known encounter.” I could never see it face to face, but only feel it in my shadow, the former patterns of an aura left behind, pushing forward, pursuing, persuading, steering and navigating my memory through the valley of the shadow of death. I wanted so desperately to “have and to hold” the real substance of things (evidence!), the physical, intimate engagement with the body and the blood, which I actively sought out in transcendental activity, prayer and supplication, the sacraments, the feasts of the saints, a metaphysical substance to salivate and sublimate within the natural order of things. But this was a false pretense. God is not natural, but supernatural. The real material of divinity is ineffable, unassailable, unknowable, unutterable, and unreal. The evidence of providence is not within our line of sight, nor within our grasp, but instead beyond and behind our physical kinesphere. It is unapproachable, unspeakable, unobservable, and ultimately “erstwhile”. And yet still we continue to feel it “under our skin” and “within the universe” of our own personal history: The Past/The Passed/The Repossessed. God is our delayed consciousness – the nameless, faceless dichotomy of our secret truth. And we are made in its indistinguishable appearance. Therefore our own true “image” is without a name or a face – a baseless, shapeless cloud hovering above the waters, a countenance of empty atmosphere (signifying nothing) – a gothic apparition, a vision of love, a dance of the eternal travesty of life, a burrowing beetle of impenetrating curiosity. Digging for the true grit of life in the eternal dirt of the universe. 

10.BODY  My last love was a kind of science fiction. I was out running errands at the mall when I saw a fleet of lampshades falling like flying saucers from the sky. The alien robots came to me in an escalating beam of light and said: “We come in peace! The obverse seeks to make its face shine upon you, while the inverse hides in shame.” They did their thing with my body, prodding and poking around for some good news, but at first I would have none of it. I struggled and squirmed under nylon restraints strapped onto a stainless steel operating table. I was a basket case of curmudgeonly vitriol, pointing out everything that was wrong with the world around me: Fossil fuels. Cancer. Money. Greed. Sales Tax. Frozen Yoghurt. Religion. Varicose Veins. Junk Mail. But the alien robots were unflappable. They said, “We just need a little DNA, not a diatribe,” while swabbing the insides of my mouth with a cottony Q-tip. Then, after careful intubation and a slow drip of aesthesia, I eased into the abyss. They removed my clothes and covered my body with a marshmallowy spray foam. They swaddled me into a warm cocoon of maroon goo, where I remained in stasis to the end of the ages, slowly resuming into the soft, pillowy features of my former self – pre-natal, premature, pre-conceived – a slippery and succulent primordial membrane of soupy warmth and illuminating agency awaiting, once again, the cosmic journey laid out before me like a yellow-brick road of possibilities – the secret oblivion of love, the “unbeknownst!” Within this pinprick vision, I saw a tapestry of afterbirth in afterglow as an addendum to an immaculate after-thought of rapturous joy. I was born-again in fullness and truth. I was a peanut. I was a pretzel. I was a pan-fried shrimp. I was pandemonium personified. I was once again myself waiting to happen again and again and again and again and again … until the end.

— Sufjan Stevens

#sufjan stevens #javelin

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

#tiff writes #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #marvel #marvel fic #mcu #mcu fic #fame au #marvel fame au #song inspired #night shift #night shift lucy dacus #lucy dacus #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #the winter soldier #tws

[sgiandubh]

I think it's interesting that people (you included) will not find fault with Caitriona. She's on social media but not acknowledging anything or anyone and it's stated well she did it privately. You don't know what she did privately. You stating it doesn't make it true. Stans on Twitter claiming up and down, it's because she has a husband and child, so they can see how weird it looks that she ignores everything, but think of excuses. Lots of people have a spouse and child, yet take 45 seconds to publicly acknowledge things. Sam gets made fun of for selling or promoting (you included) but Cait is precious and fault on her part is not a thing. Why?

Dear Find Fault Anon,

One more time (and I shall always repeat it, until we get somewhere): I am not interested in S and C separately and I dare to think, based on things I do know, that this is not a possibility. Therefore, I shall always consider them as an entity and I am not a Caitriona Balfe stan. Between you and me, I think this is the most ridiculous accusation you could have thought of: usually people shout at me for being an S worshipper, which is not the case.

How could I, Anon? These people are my age, FFS!

Yes, it's very poor manners of C not to thank the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films for that award. But you seem to conveniently forget the tiny detail that S did not congratulate her on social media, either. And, lest I forget, neither did Skeleton, who wouldn't have missed the coat-tailing opportunity for the world, I think and who genuinely likes both of them. S is the only one half-heartedly promoting OL on his socials. For example, I know you don't give a shite about him (I do), but did you hear anything else OL related from Vandervaart, since promo was over? Or John Bell, for that matter?

Nope. You haven't. They all seem to have vanished into thin air, only to materialize when *** will finally decide to put us out of our misery and broadcast Season 7B.

To me, this is the sign something is brewing. I have no speculation to offer, just something that makes you go hmmm. Eventually, though, dots will connect, things will make sense. They always do.

You seem unhappy with my pragmatic take on things, by which I stand: we don't know a thing about this situation and can only speculate. And guess what, my dear: neither do you.

But sure, feel free to focus on nitpicking. That makes you the ideal fodder for this silly game currently being played. Focus on Insta follows opening trails that lead you nowhere and on online times, if it makes you happy. I couldn't care less, Anon. But don't come here stirring shit because you are bored and looking forward to engage with someone. You are barking up the wrong tree.

Finally, I hope you know the difference between opinions and facts. If you don't, by now, I am very sorry and somewhat worried for you. Truly.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[jilyandbambi]

yeah, if 6 teenage girls and 1 teenage boy had emerged from the Canadian wilderness after 19 months with a 1 year old baby in tow, there would've been no escaping the media hellstorm. They would've been on 20/20 within 3 months. One group interview and a few candids of Shauna holding the baby would've been the price they'd all have had to pay in order to be left tf alone because while in 2023 society pretends to care about trauma, PTSD, and teens' mental health, this was the 90s--when Nicole Brown Simpson was blamed for her own murder, Lorena Bobbit was a late-night punchline, R. Kelly marrying 15 y/o Aalyiah was an open secret, grown men were calling into radio stations to speculate on 16 y/o Britney Spears' virginity, and Monica Lewinsky was doxxed and getting death threats for sucking off Bill Clinton.

What I'm saying is:

Seven teens (the girls + Travis) surviving against the odds for 19 months is the epilogue to a tragedy with enough unanswered questions to keep true crime nerds speculating & reporters digging.

But them being found with an infant? Had it come out that one of the girls was pregnant and gave birth during the ordeal? That's mainstream tabloid fodder. The kind that not even "papers of repute" would turn their noses up at. Barbara Walters, Lesley Stahl, and Mike Wallace would be beating each other and TMZ down to get the first interview, the first photo of the baby. NBC would've backed a U-Haul full of money onto the Shipman's, the Martinez', and the Sadecki's front yard (because speculation as to who the actual father really was would be kept going until it came directly from the source). Did she know she was pregnant when she got on the plane? Who else knew? What was it like giving birth? Did any of the other girls get pregnant? How many of the girls did Travis do it with? Weren't any of them afraid of the same thing happening to them? Did doing it help them cope?

And it wouldn't just be the media. Doctors, child development specialists, psychologists, sociologists, and academics would be calling non-stop to get Shauna and the baby to participate in clinical trials and studies.

The only way they'd have been left alone is if they'd done a televised interview and ended it by pleading to be allowed to go on with their lives in peace

#shauna shipman #wilderness baby #yellowjackets meta #yj meta #yj s2 #yellowjackets #idk what the point here is. the thought just came to me

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Permanent 99

Prompt Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 2811 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Content, 18+ Only | Tags: Sports AU, Swimming AU, Modern Setting, Eddie & Gareth are BFFs, Olympic Swimmers, Heat Wave, Outdoor Fooling Around, Blowjob, Eddie POV

This follows my Sports AU drabble from @steddieholidaydrabbles where they were Olympic Swimmers, but can be read standalone.

This one is also available right here on AO3.

we're hot and sticky as we can get, don't need to go swimming to be soakin' wet, you lean in and you bite my lip, it's hard to be cool in heat like this, sweat drop at the end of your nose, makes you lose your mind and lose your clothes Christian Kane, Permanent 99

Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes, attempting to block out the way too bright sun and wipe the sweat away from his forehead at the same time. 

The strips of cheap vinyl from the PVC lounger are sticking to his bare back and he can't seem to shift in any way to get comfortable with the feeling. Steve is worth millions, but he's dragged out some old as shit, tri-fold lounge chairs from last century. They had to have been stashed in his parents' pool house, left over from the eighties, faded from sun and years of disuse. If Eddie's going to be subjected to the summer sun, he's definitely gonna need a newer chair, because this is really not working for him. 

He's sticking to it in ways that feel really gross.

That has a lot to do with the fact that it's so humid it's almost insufferable. The glare off of the water isn't helping matters. It's blinding him, even through his sunglasses. They've spent a lifetime looking at pool water, so Eddie's not entirely sure why they're still doing it now, on their own time.

“It’s hot as shit,” Eddie finally announces, moving his arm just enough to catch a glimpse of Steve next to him.

Steve smiles, seemingly unconcerned by the unrelenting heat. 

He's tanned, and glistening in the sun, looking every bit of a Greek god. That bastard.

Eddie's actually seen Steve in Athens, at the fucking Olympiad itself, and he damn well didn't look anything like he does right now. Steve was only nineteen then, still just a kid chasing a dream. And, now he's a man. A gorgeous man.

Eddie is pretty sure he looks like an overheated, wet cat in comparison. A pitiful thing that probably just needs put down.

But Eddie grins, because retirement looks good on Steve Harrington. Damn good. Retired before thirty. That's quite the thing to wrap his head around. 

But that's not going to stop Eddie's complaining.

“From now on, summer months will be spent strictly indoors. It's too hot, and I’m too pale for this,” Eddie declares, as if that is the final decision on the subject matter.

It isn't. Not if his perpetually sun-kissed boyfriend has a say in the matter.

Steve just rolls his eyes, and doesn’t look away from his magazine, "You made the worst dressed list, again," Steve offers, flashing the glossy pages in his direction. "They put you on the fug list."

Well, Eddie doesn't give a flying fug what that rag thinks. He's gonna wear what he's gonna wear. 

"And let me guess, you're in the other column?" Eddie asks, but he already knows it. Ever since they went public with their relationship after retirement, they've been tabloid fodder. Everyone has been speculating on how long this has been going on (since Athens) and how long it will last (hopefully forever) and they've picked apart every last detail of their lives they can get their hands on. And their very different style choices have been a popular topic of conversation.

Steve retired, Eddie didn't. Until he did. And now, they're both out of the meat grinder, free at last to do whatever they want to with all this brand new free time. Eddie's had fun running swim clinics for kids, and Steve has been funneling his time and money into his charitable foundation.

The rest of the time, they spend lazing together, just like this. Finally getting to really build this relationship of theirs into something even deeper, and stronger, than ever before.

They can't leave swimming, not totally. It's in their blood. But it's nice to be away from the early practices and constant sacrifices you have to make to be an Olympian, not just once, but several Games in a row.

Their not-so-secret love went public at Eddie's last Games, when Steve showed up, but kept out of the announcer's booth, and refused to be interviewed. He wasn't there for his own promo. Everybody was pissy about it, wanting a piece of him, wanting the ratings boost his voice, his face, would bring in. But Steve was only there to see Eddie, Gareth and the rest of his friends on Team USA swim, that's it.

So, it didn't take long for rumors to reach a fever pitch, and instead of denying them. They just admitted they were together, and had been, for a very long time. And now, they were looking forward to retirement, together. 

And that was that. 

They've been holed up at Steve's house ever since, trying to keep away from prying eyes, to just be together. With no other commitments. No early practices. No strict diets.

They're just Eddie and Steve. No longer Harrington and Munson.

But, Eddie's getting a little stir crazy and a lot hot. He needs to be anywhere but beside a pool right now.

“I haven’t even set foot in the goddamn pool and I’m sweating through my trunks,” Eddie whines, just making sure his opinion on the subject has been heard by Steve, loud and clear.

“Shoulda rocked the banana hammock, bro,” Steve supplies with a shrug of his shoulders, laughing loudly, totally unbothered by Eddie’s constant bitching. 

Eddie smiles, "Don't call me bro, dude."

Steve giggles, and it's the best sound. So carefree. All that weight of expectation just…gone. It was amazing to see. Retired from professional swimming, Steve doesn’t sweat the small stuff, not anymore. And Eddie is one hundred percent down for that.

"Speedos aren’t exactly casual pool wear, regardless of what you might think, Harrington,” Eddie adds.

“Sure they are,” Steve answers, waving his hand over his lap.

Eddie looks over at Steve, and lowers his sunglasses down his nose. Steve's wearing a tiny, all-white Speedo that Eddie can't look away from. It was a purposeful choice, Eddie is well aware. 

Steve's baiting him. 

And the white makes it basically see through. It’s nearly obscene and Eddie knows damn good and well Steve wore it on purpose, knowing he’d either sweat through it, and make it see through, or end up in the pool…and make it see through. 

Eddie knows this game well and it sadly always, always works on him. He's an easy mark. Always has been when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Eddie pushes his glasses back up on his face.

“You're right, the Federation should have forgotten all about the tech suits and went back to those," Eddie says, licking his lips, wetting them. Two can play at this game.

There’s a sweat drop clinging to the end of Steve’s nose and Eddie reaches over to catch it with his thumb. Raking his eyes all over Steve.

"Is this seriously turning you on?" Steve asks, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm basically wearing an old work uniform."

Eddie just nods, looking at every inch of Steve's body. Still toned, but already going slightly softer in places. Not to mention all the body hair. Steve's hairy, when the fuck did that happen? After only knowing him as the shaved and waxed swimmer, this has been a fucking revelation of a magnitude Eddie can't even put into words. 

Steve's a man. No longer the kid he was when they met, a million years and a million miles away from here.

"You're staring," Steve says, teasing him, and Eddie just nods. He's definitely staring and he'll do it some more. 

Steve smiles and sets his magazine down and crawls over onto Eddie’s lounger, straddling Eddie’s thighs. It creaks and shifts under them, and Eddie holds his breath, and prepares for the little metal legs to collapse. It doesn't, miraculously, and Steve takes Eddie's stillness for an opportunity to lean in and bite at Eddie’s bottom lip before Eddie can, well, give him any more lip. Eddie groans a little at the feeling, hands settling on Steve’s hips. Steve deepens the kiss and runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-damp hair.

When they finally break apart, Steve is even slicker with sweat than he was before, but he just grins down at Eddie.

“Let’s go in,” Eddie urges, thumbs tracing lazy circles on Steve’s exposed hip bones. Running his thumb over Steve's Olympic rings tattoo that's just barely peeking over the top of the tiny Speedo. 

Steve took Eddie to get his own rings tattoo after his first Olympics, and Eddie took Gareth after his. It's a sacred tradition. 

Eddie presses his thumb into the slightly faded ink, then dips it lower, stroking until he feels coarse hair under his thumb. Then, he's sliding his other hand up and down Steve's hairy thigh. More hair. Hair for days.

In fact, Steve’s chest hair is damp and right in Eddie’s face. It’s driving him a little wild. Steve spent so many years shaved, that this has been a goddamn turn on. Eddie leans forward and buries his face in Steve's chest.

Steve just laughs, and pushes Eddie back down, nipping at Eddie’s neck playfully, “S’good out here.”

“Think of the air conditioning. And the big, big bed.”

“This is bed-like,” Steve insists, reaching over and hitting the lever sending the chaise flat. The unsteady metal legs wobble comically and Eddie laughs as Steve topples over on top of him ungracefully. It's a nice change of pace, since Eddie often feels like he's the ungraceful one nearly everywhere but in the water. Always one wrong move from a trip to the E.R., while Steve stands by, shaking his head. 

Eddie’s fairly certain this flimsy-ass chair can't hold their combined weight indefinitely, even without Steve trying to fuck him through it. But he still runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him. 

He'll ride this train into the ground, without question. 

Steve closes his eyes, and grinds down against him.

Eddie grips Steve’s hips, resting his fingers against Steve’s ass, cupping him through the Speedo. When he squeezes his fingers underneath the tight material, Steve opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s, and Eddie just raises an eyebrow, questioning.

“By all means,” Steve answers, lifting up enough for them to work together to get it shimmed off his ass.

It isn’t easy. Removing a wet Speedo never is, and Steve’s wallering him in the process. Eddie almost takes a knee to the nuts, but they finally get it peeled off Steve's hips and tossed onto the ground. 

Steve unties Eddie’s trunks and pulls the Velcro closure apart loudly. He snakes his hand inside and closes his fist around him, and Eddie can’t help but buck up into the tight grip. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, leaning back further, enjoying the feeling.

Steve smiles and leans forward, chasing him, licking a path of sweat off of Eddie’s chest. It makes Eddie shiver unexpectedly and he can’t stop himself from tangling his hand in Steve’s hair. Urging him lower. Steve takes the hint. He always does.

He pushes apart Eddie's trunks, getting himself better access, and Eddie lifts up, to let him tug them down a little further, but not all the way off. 

Eddie groans when Steve’s mouth makes contact with his dick.

He rests his hand on Steve's head, feeling every movement from above and below. Steve's a gold medal cocksucker, that's for goddamn sure. 

"That's good, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve hums in acknowledgement, head moving up and down, hand doing the rest of the work in tandem. 

Eddie slides his hand down to Steve's face, pressing his palm to his stubbly cheek, and Steve changes the angle, so the head of Eddie's dick now hits the inside of his cheek with every bob of his head, bumping against Eddie's palm.

Steve's teasing him, playing with him, but it's fucking hot. 

So hot, and it's all Eddie can take, honestly, and he arches his hips off the chair, coming. 

Steve pulls off, and makes eye contact as he swipes his tongue around his mouth, gathering up Eddie's come on his tongue, which he shows Eddie, before swallowing.

"You're gonna kill me," Eddie says, as he moves to wrap his hand around Steve's hard dick, but Steve holds up one finger, wagging it at him. 

And then he slides fully on top of Eddie, and ruts into his hip. Using Eddie to get himself off.

Jesus H. Christ. 

Retired Steve is his favorite version, so far. Even more than top of the podium Steve. Or secret locker room blowjob Steve.

This version? His to keep? This is the one. 

Steve's breathing heavy into Eddie's ear, hot puffs of air and soft moans that make Eddie wish he could get hard again right now. Eddie digs his fingers into Steve's slick back, just along for the ride. Getting to enjoy the sights and sounds of Steve working hard. Breath catching with exertion. 

It's so familiar, and yet, brand new.

Steve lets out a groan in Eddie's ear, and then comes inside Eddie's shorts, and that's a new feat, for sure. 

Steve clearly doesn't give a fuck if he glues himself to Eddie's pubic hair, as he lays down on Eddie fully. Naked, sated and happy. This is the kind of hot Eddie isn't going to complain about. 

He almost says so, when he feels the whoosh of air blow past his arm before there’s a splash in the pool. He freezes. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, even if he’s certain it’s only Gareth. Maybe Robin, if he's really unlucky.

Steve's house has a revolving door. You never know who's gonna show up, unannounced.

And Eddie can't help it, he flushes even further, cheeks red and hot, totally embarrassed. 

When Eddie finally cracks an eye open, he laughs when he sees Gareth standing in the pool, right at the edge. Arms folded, head resting on them. Staring right at Eddie. Gareth has no shame and doesn’t get embarrassed easily, if ever. 

Just like Steve, honestly.

How he's surrounded himself with these two, he's not exactly sure.

"Whatcha guys been doin'?" Gareth drawls out, like he can't see Steve's bare ass in his face and know exactly what they were doing. 

Gareth's caught them fucking in several countries at this point. This is nothing. It's not even in the top ten most compromising positions he's seen them in. But still. Eddie could do without it, for sure.

Gareth's dog, Bonzo, is prancing around poolside, barking and jumping, just as hyper as his owner.

Steve just shakes his head, leaning over and picking up his discarded Speedo and walks back towards the house, like it’s no big deal to be walking around the backyard, totally naked. It's nothing Gareth hasn't seen before, to be certain. They've all spent far too many years together, in far too many locker rooms. 

Still, Eddie lifts his hips, and gets his trunks back up and securely fastened. He’s not about to get caught naked if he can help it. Unlike Steve, he does have some shame, and doesn’t exactly desire his junk getting featured on TMZ.

Some days, Eddie thinks Steve's just daring them to run dick pics of him. Probably because he knows what he's packing, and nobody in their right mind is gonna give his dick bad press. 

Definitely not Eddie. No way.

Eddie is about to get up, when Bonzo seizes the opportunity for the freed up premium seating, and jumps up onto Eddie’s lap.

Eddie hears the chair give way before he feels it. Soon enough they’re both falling to the ground. It’s a short fall, but Eddie still scrapes his elbow on the concrete and Bonzo shoots him daggers as if this whole mess was Eddie's fault, as the dog darts away from the scene of the crime, and towards the house, trying to catch up with Steve.

Steve clearly saw it happen, and he’s doubled over laughing near the sliding glass doors, still naked, and Eddie really doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Fuck you, asshole, that hurt!” Eddie yells across the yard as he awkwardly untangles himself from the wreckage. Steve just laughs harder, and as much as Eddie wants to, it’s hard for him to stay mad at Steve.

Eddie gets up and surveys the collapsed heap of vinyl and aluminum. It looks like it's a total loss, and that does make Eddie smile, fully thankful that the chair from hell finally met its overdue end.

He jogs to catch up with Steve, hoping to slide in the shower with him, where Steve will kiss his wounded pride all better, and maybe go for round two. 

Notes: Song is Permanent 99 by Christian Kane. It's not on Spotify, or I'd just embed it. Gareth's dog is Bonzo, after John Bonham. Because I still like to think he's a drummer in this world, and that still plays with Eddie here, too. They just took their focus elsewhere.

This is the kind of chair I'm talking about, which they're still making apparently?! I had no idea.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

#steddiemas #steddiemasnaughtylist #“Is this seriously turning you on?” #steddie #steddie ficlet #olympic au #swimmer steve harrington #swimmer eddie munson #gareth is a little shit #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas

[born-to-lose]

Never Stopped Loving You

Pairing: current!Slash x fem!reader

Requested by @being-worthy

Summary: You and Slash get hate from the media because of the age difference in your relationship, so he has to make a hard decision...

Tags: breakup, angst with happy ending, age gap

Words: 1,417

A/N: I know I haven't posted fics in ages and this is one of my first attempts at writing since June, so I'm even prouder of myself that it turned out so long. Also, count this as one of the belated annual coping fics.

Tag list: @warriorteam1924 @slashscowboyboots @losers-yurio @lost-in-the-80s @yoshidas-girl-forever @jennyggggrrr @tuffduff @jonesyownsmyheart @rhyetaylor62 @smells-like-perfect-senses @whered0wego @rumoured-whispers @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @aggressive-slytherin @cherry-jams

Tip me if you want!

You never would have thought you would meet Slash at an opening night for an art gallery somewhere in California, but what was even more surreal was that he was the one who started talking to you.

"Are you one of the artists?"

You turned to look at him and smiled, shaking your head. "No, but one of my friend's artworks is exhibited here. She's somewhere…" you looked around, gesturing to the staircase. "Somewhere over there probably."

He chuckled lightly. "That's cool! I'm Slash, by the way."

Slash offered you his hand and you shook it. "Nice to meet you, I'm (y/n)."

You had no idea how, but your conversation didn't end there and you kept talking and talking until he called you a taxi as it got late and your friend was nowhere to be found. But not before he gave you his number with the words "Feel free to call me sometime if you like".

That's how it all started and at some point, you were dating. Neither of you ever really made it public, you just went out together and left it to people to figure it out themselves. At the beginning, there were some worries about your age difference, but you were both happy and his children liked you too, so why should you let something small like this get in your way?

Of course, your relationship was good fodder for the media. Headlines on tabloids like "Slash dates someone who could be his daughter" or "Who is the girl dating the rockstar 30 years her senior?" were not uncommon. What was worse than this, though, were the nasty comments on social media and the speculations that you were just after him for his money and fame.

What they didn't seem to realize was that neither you nor Slash posted any couple photos, which you definitely would have if you had really wanted to become famous as Slash's girlfriend. All they had was photos of the two of you shot by paparazzi in public and the name of your private Instagram account, which was on account of some dedicated fan who went through his entire following list and compared profile photos to the blurry pictures of you which could be found on any celebrity gossip website now.

Then again, you were not the only one who got hate. More than a few people called Slash a creep and a predator for dating somebody this young. However, this didn't seem to bother him much as you were in your late twenties and thus an independent, consenting adult who had already built up a life. He was more upset about the comments about you, calling you a gold digger, a whore and whatnot.

However, after a couple of months of pure bliss - aside from all the hate from outsiders - Slash made a hard decision.

"So this is the end?" you asked, a lump in your throat as you attempted to hold back the tears.

He sighed, his voice shaking as he replied, "Believe me, it wasn't easy for me to make up my mind at all, but… you know I only want the best for you and I can't keep watching you getting your reputation ruined just because you're dating me. You deserve so much better than this."

You really wanted him to stay, but at that moment you weren't able to come up with arguments why he should rethink that decision. Your mind was all over the place and you were too busy crying to comprehend everything else he said.

Slash held you in his arms, staying silent because he had no idea how to save this situation when he was the one who ruined it in the first place.

You understood where he was coming from and it was more or less inevitable that this day was going to come sooner than you would have liked, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

But as time passed and you reconsidered everything that had happened, you were beginning to question if the critics really were the only reason why he left you. After all, he had never said those three words to you. Admittedly, your relationship was less based on words than on actions, but you would have liked to hear him explicitly say he loved you too from time to time. Perhaps some of your friends were right when they had asked you if you were sure it was a good idea to date someone 30 years older than you - and a famous musician at that.

One night, shortly after you got home from work, your phone rang without you expecting a call from anyone. Still, you answered it and you stopped breathing as you heard a familiar voice you hadn't heard in five months.

"Hey, it's me, Slash. I… would like to talk if you have time. Can you come over? I don't want to have this conversation on the phone."

There was a short pause before you murmured, "Yeah, I'm on my way. See you."

It was pretty late and you wondered why he would want to talk to you right now, but what would it hurt to come see him just this once?

He didn't live too far away from you, so you arrived at his house in less than 10 minutes. Slash already opened the door when he heard your car stop and he was biting his lip as he watched you walking towards him. "Please come in," he said quietly and you followed him inside.

The two of you walked into the corridor and then the living room, sitting down on the couch. You had almost forgotten how much you had missed this place.

Before he started, he took a deep breath and told you what was on his mind without further ado.

"I never stopped loving you. That's why I only called you now. I thought I could get over you if I kept some distance so I could forget about my feelings for you, but I couldn't. There hasn't been a day that I didn't regret breaking up with you. I just thought it's for the best because I hated how everyone made you look like the villain. I've heard a lot of shit being talked about me, I don't care about what they say anymore. But you… you always said it doesn't bother you but I could tell it did-"

You blinked in confusion, processing everything he had said so far, before interrupting him. "Wait, what? No, it really didn't bother me as long as we were together. I knew what I signed up for and I knew we would get hate from people, but we agreed that we wouldn't let something like this come between us."

There was a pause during which Slash was clearly trying to think of what to say. As you briefly looked around, a framed photo of you and Slash on the wall caught your eye and you bit your lip, looking back at him. "You never stopped loving me?"

"Yeah… I feel stupid now for breaking up with you over this and I don't even expect you to give me another chance, but I would be really grateful if you could. I swear I won't let you go so easily this time."

His teary eyes told you that he really meant what he said. Thinking about how to respond, you kept still for a moment.

Sure, the breakup hurt, but why else, if he didn't genuinely want you back, would he have called you to have this talk now after five months had passed? There hadn't been any problems in your relationship besides the media, so why shouldn't you try again? Some may say it won't work out this time if it already hadn't in the past, but you'll never know if you don't try.

"To be honest… I still love you too," you confessed. "And I think we should try again, but please promise that this time we really won't let some haters get between us, okay?"

Obviously relieved, he smiled and nodded. "I promise. Thank you for giving me another chance."

Softly returning the smile, you opened your arms to wrap him into a hug and rested your chin on his shoulder. A part of you wanted to say something, but you would have enough time to talk with him later now that you were together again, so you remained quiet and hugged him tighter.

#mel writes #slash #slash x reader #slash imagine #slash fic #saul hudson #saul hudson x reader #saul hudson imagine #saul hudson fic #guns n roses #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic

[kijosakka]

and the thoughts taunt me yet again. its just becoming commonplace at this point to ramble on tumblr before i go to sleep uhhh

theres gotta be like, a liiitle bit of established characterization summed up beyond a mess of multi paragraph behemoth rambling posts in a rb chain to rehash canon properly um,,

^ general idea is of noah knowing chris and chef before TD is even conceptualized and growing up in the industry bc of it, if only ever behind the scenes and watching in < all of the posts are actually more character studies about being Wary of the Cameras than anything else but id like to look at canon if only just to try and puzzle out/outline developments and whatnot.

starting out pre-island and segueing into his little time on island (and still being majorly character study-y):

chris, with TD being a new show and all, has trouble filling out the cast, and being fussy about the specifics of his show, is willing to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find those three castmates to pad it out. hence; duncan, ezekiel, and noah

^ duncan and ezekiel both did send in audition tapes, while noah did not, (i'd imagine here something about the TD website having everyones audition tapes release once theyre eliminated as 'bonus content'. everyone, of course, except noah.) cause, you know. up until this point hes only ever been known in The Business as 'that snappy but has surprisingly good insight into the Business kid noah who accompanies mclean', but now hes being asked to join this show he wants no part in. hes perfectly willing to help out behind the scenes, wheres hes comfortable, but chris insists -- and eventually, noah gives in.

the caveat is that he goes into the show both knowing about the resort after elimination and hyperaware of the reality tv aspect. and since, in his mind, hes elimination fodder there to make sure they have a full cast roster, he delegates himself a background character and acts as such.

hes not meant to last long, so he singles out some traits and ideas and detaches his person from them. for the length of the entire show, noah knows he wont be a person. he'll be a character made up of one-liners and quips with no character motivations or involvement in any real plotlines, someone who you see how early they get eliminated and you go 'yeah, that makes sense' and then never think about again.

^ and this is very apparent from his first onscreen appearance -- it takes a good minute for the boat to go back and forth picking up contestants even if most of the spare footage is cut, and as people arrive, even if the camp is a disappointment there's a shared sense of wonder about being the people who made it onto the show they all collectively want to be on. they chat and share excited pleasantries and theres a sense of personality that is immediately apparent to their peers because of it -- except for noah. noah has his one back-and-forth with duncan and then lets himself fade into the background from there on out.

and at first, its a kind of deal where its just like 'alright. hes shy, thats alright!!", but then it continues into when theyre all sent off and distinctly off camera. you try to chat with noah, and he gives you a non-answer or a one-liner than would be great for an audience!...if anyone were watching.

the walk up the mountain for the first challenge is much of the same: no input on the speculation about the challenge, just unnerving blankness. his facial expression is unchanging, not like he was unphased by the challenge, but more like he just isnt there for it. like the plot doesnt demand his presence.

again and again the first impression they get of this guy is a weird, offputting uncanny valley sensation. he doesnt come off as a real person, he comes off as robotic and lifeless. and its weird. i'd imagine in terms of character relationships, a lot of characters would be weirded out by him and completely write him off, while some of the nicer would insist on giving him a chance to get used to everything.

the second challenge comes -- he has his whole fake-faceplant thing that hints at something more, but again. hes a collection of ideas, and one of those ideas could just be potential, overridden by his apathy and laziness; two other key ideas.

noah doesnt touch any of the food provided during that second-first-half bit, just stands blankly off to the side like hes being used for background filler. of course he doesnt, the cameras are right there. (does no one else understand that?)

^ [*]awakeathon comes and goes; noah falls asleep, and that's.... it. no scheme, no strategy, he just separates himself physically from the cast by a few feet, and gets cozy to sleep. and then he wakes up. no insight into the character like with, say, courtney or justin. no plotting like heather. just banal averageness. a play to be overlooked.

and what was he to do? there were no real opportunities for any of his 'collection of ideas' to slot in, so he fades into the background and lets everyone else take up the screentime.

[*there is, i imagine, a kind of alternate version of events where the kiss with cody does happen and can be used as further/a more clear incentive for the events of dodgebrawl to happen.

the reason ive cut it here is because just in the context of noah sticking so hard to his hyperawareness, i would imagine he would know of and preemptively try and take measures against any Sleep Shenanigans that may happen, or may even avoid sleeping for longer because of the possibility.]

and then its dodgebrawl; he sees his chance to really flaunt his non-substance. [*]noah hates physical activity, thats one of his main Ideas in his compartmentalized collection. which better challenge to utilize it in than this one? again, hes elimination fodder. as far as he's concerned, this works out perfectly.

[*this would kind of give you a reason to change his lack of athleticism if you so wished. theres an alternate-alternate version of canon keeping this same noahs background that i might post about on here at some point, but in said AU hes more physically adept bc of his past in behind-the-scenes work. whos to say he hasnt helped carry heavy set pieces or ran around during busy hours?

it could serve to be a) self indulgent to some degree, and who doesnt love that, but also b) further alienate him from his cast, where even one of the barest traits he exhibits is just flat out wrong.

or you could just keep it as-is, and alter his attitude towards anything physical while keeping his unathleticism. or it could just be one of his chosen (truthful) traits that he decides fits with his on-screen character. its pretty ambiguous]

he gloats and inserts his quips where he can, the book hes carrying really just there to really sell it -- in terms of the cast and their thoughts, its again strange.

hes saying Words, but theyre Detached from the character and demeanor. hes putting on a performance and hes selling it pretty well, but its still hard to shake how off something seems about it. but noah does sell it and he gets voted off, off to his long vacation stay which he is absolutely looking forward to.

he arrives at the island, he gives his character interview full of non-answers, and then -- well, thats it. or it would've been it had he not noticed the obscene explosion of popularity the show had from its debut. the general public loved it, and you know what happens to shows that people absolutely adore? they get approved for second seasons.

this is the fact that tips noah straight into barring himself from all interpersonal relationships, as he was already wary simply by virtue of them being his castmates --theyre on screen, on set with him. that changes a lot about your dynamic with someone. -- and that he never really knows if theyre being watched on the playa; it is network-owned at the end of the day. so both the uncertainty and 'confirmation' of a second season lead him to avoid the cast entirely. literally.

nobody sees anything of noah beyond flashes in peripherals, disappearing books from the living area, and dirty dishes -- until theyre called for filming of haute camp-ture. and while its obvious to everyone else that theyre treading lightly around him since they, you know, havent seen him at all, noah acts completely unchanged. no acknowledgement of his absence, just the same dynamic with his castmates hes always had on-screen.

afterwards, someone tries to get his attention, to be like 'hey?????', and noah dismisses them extremely flatly. like npc dialogue. and then he disappears again, until i triple dog dare you, which im going to say they just gather everyone outside and let them do their own things until someone spins them and they have to give a dare. noah sits himself on a pool chair in his swim shirt and trunks with a book and Does Not interact with the cast at all.

^ you could spin it where they get a bunch of dares from the contestants individually and just read off from where theyre listed or whatever but this would be a chance to have alternate povs noting exactly what the characters think of noahs separation from everyone

anyway theyre called on the island for the [*]finale between owen and gwen, and he lets himself fade into the background. his work is done, it has been done, and now he just has to wait for what the segue into the inevitable second season is so he can wipe his hands clean of it (or so he thinks)

[*i think it could be written both ways, one where when the cast cheers he cheers and when they scream he screams, or another where despite the frenzied emotions around him, noah remains unaffected.

perhaps it could be used as a kind of 'well even people like zeke and eva are rowdy about this' contrast where either way it comes off as incredibly uncanny; one way, hes showing distinct emotion where he never has before, while never having shown any emotional investment in the winner. and the other way, hes completely detached from the emotions around him, to the point where he acts like its not even happening; his lack of investment in the winner is offputting, esp when compared to very early eliminated contestants who still do care.]

#is this incoherent?? probably #im sure i forgot about sometbing i meant to write about #im realizing how difficult it is to write about canon since this is a very introspective idea #and therefore doesnt require changes to canon until WT #< which i havent fully puzzled out yet #im sure ill rb this with the tddddi special and more about action as an Entity #and maybe ill touch on chef/chris & noah dynamic then?? idk #ik i want to ramble a Whole Lot about noahs dynamics with the wt cast but #since i haven’t figured the plot of it i cant get into it :( #dramaturgyAU #total drama #td noah #character analysis #< ??? whatever #long posts

[skeilig]

i am on my knees begging for more info about the kieran-jeremy beef...

oh boy, i used to dream of asks like these.

so a lot of it just me reading into things (bc i think a basically harmless beef btwn 2 costars who did good work together is fun and spicy lol) but most of it stems from the original, infamous new yorker profile of jeremy. of the cast's remarks, most people read kieran and brian's as being the harshest. brian ofc had doubled-down on his issues with jeremy's method since then (see the "method acting masterclass" bit from fallon), in a way that is kinda extra and cringe imo. the kieran-jeremy beef is more subtle and unspoken and therefore classier (and kieran is sexy and funny so he can do whatever he wants).

some of kieran's remarks in the new yorker profile i think have been a bit misinterpreted. for instance, he was quoted saying that jeremy's method "doesn't work" for him, which is kinda ambiguous. is he saying that jeremy's approach to acting inhibits his own ability to work OR is he saying that jeremy's method wouldn't work for him personally if he were to try it. i lean toward the latter. the worse parts of the article imo were just cringe-fodder, such as kieran and jeremy's disagreement about whether the show is a comedy, and kieran speculating that jeremy prepares improvisations for set, and he repeated one such "improvisation" ("rooting-tooting good time for all the family!" which made it into the climactic scene in austerlitz) in so many takes in a row that it began to grate on other cast members, until sarah snook snapped at him in character and said "SHUT. UP. KENDALL." kieran sharing this anecdote definitely is NOT flattering to jeremy. i can see how from another actor's pov, when you're encouraged to improv on set, and how vulnerable and intimidating that can be (kieran struggled with improv at first but grew to excel at it!), it could break the trust on set to have one actor not playing by the same rules.

in a later profile of kieran (i wanna say GQ but i'm not gonna cite sources sowwee), he was asked to reflect on the jeremy profile and his remarks that caused a lot of buzz. his response was cordial but he basically just quickly shut it down and the journalist editorialized that "maybe he's learned to keep things to himself." which i think may be the case!

ever since then, i've just noticed the many times when kieran has conspicuously failed to mention jeremy. in a pre-s4 profile, there was an account of their last day of filming, which was the scene between the 3 siblings in the kitchen in barbados. after they wrapped, kieran made a speech and apparently profusely thanked and poured love onto sarah snook (as he should!). it was not stated whether or not he addressed jeremy, his other scene partner for this last scene. he might have, but it was not confirmed one way or another. and then there's just his many acceptance speeches (the emmys being the most recent) where he names other lead cast members but does not mention jeremy at all, even when they have been nominated in the same category (a bit strange, i'll admit!).

so in conclusion this is just me speculating for fun. it's not a big deal, i don't think either is in the wrong or a bad person or anything. it's a personality mismatch but they were still able to do amazing work together (kendall/roman scene in the finale is sooo cwazy). it's just kinda funny when a lot of popular tv shows are very invested in the "we're all a family and love each other" image for their cast/crew, to see a show that's very well made but has some obvious interpersonal tension. reminds you that interpersonal conflict is not bad and evil which is something i think a lot of people forget, lol.

EDIT BC I FORGOT: sometime during s4 there was an interview where it came out that roman's rant at the end of s3's episode "too much birthday" was at one point cut from an early draft of the script and kieran fought to have it added back in, and he stated that it was his favorite roman scene. he also stated that jeremy disagreed with the scene being in the episode. which is just a funny thing for him to add. like, yeah jeremy didn't want the scene in the show.. but daddy jesse agreed with me 😁

#asks #anon #ty for letting me go off about this lmao #it's been a minute and i was surprised how much i could remember

[subzeroparade]

your bloodborne fics are absolutely amazing ;_; would be very interesting to hear your opinions/headcanons on the popular pairings, if you have energy for that

I always have energy for headcanons ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)

Here’s the thing - a good enough writer (or artist, for that matter) can make any pairing convincing if they’re skilled at their craft. I don’t have to like the pairing to entertain the idea of its existence if the fic/art is good enough to make me believe it. 

Obviously I am partial to Laurence/Ludwig because there’s so much potential there for my favourite ingredient, dramatic irony. I imagine Ludwig to be virtuous, selfless, and dutiful. Stoic and devout in a way that must help him wrestle with whatever cognitive dissonance emerges when things start to go downhill for the Healing Church. Laurence is ambitious, charismatic, single-minded in his pursuits and canny enough to separate himself from his actions. They make great fodder for each other. Also Ludwig is a big handsome lad and Laurence is a scheming little fox-faced bitch.

But I can also see the same kind of dramatic irony play out between Gehrman and Laurence, which is why I spend a lot of time personally speculating about how the moon deal went down. How Gehrman was always giving and Laurence was always taking until one day Gehrman just wasn’t there anymore, and Laurence died before he could even do the one thing he promised Gehrman he would. 

Despite the fact that everything ends in fucking tragedy I do love Maria and Adeline as a comfort pairing ❤ I like to think Adeline never knew what happened to Maria (I don’t subscribe to the idea that Simon killed her; I think all her deep-seated guilt points to a much more obvious end). I like the idea that Adeline and Maria acted almost as caretakers for each other in the Research Hall - Maria tending to Adeline’s health while Adeline was a balm to soothe Maria’s remorse. 

I don’t know that I have strong opinions on any other major pairings - I’ve seen some Ludwig/Simon and Brador/Laurence which I can definitely entertain because the material is there for it (also….Brador/Simon? They both seem like pathetic little meow meows but I'm intrigued I guess???) 

Valtr/Yamamura because I have no stake in the matter but I’ve been convinced by some hilarious art. 

My Caryll OTP is in Litanies but it’s a spoiler :)

Also Edgar, stuck in the Nightmare, and trolled unto eternity by Micolash. Absolute bonkers dynamic and it’s great. 

Caveat: these are only my headcanons, and I still love hearing other people’s takes on these characters because it forces me to think of them in different and nuanced ways, which is always useful. 

*climbs down from soapbox*

#ask #bloodborne

[alarrytale]

If I may add my thoughts about TZP to the conversation - I agree that it's so encouraging for the queer community to see actors who are out and proud and successful. But maybe we can have multiple definitions of what that looks like?

In multiple interviews, TZP has repeated the following things -

He loved RWRB and ACD as a character because it would have meant a lot to him personally to read/see such characters when he was much younger.

He uses gender neutral language when he discusses dating, relationships and potential partners.

For the sake of his mental health, he has a public persona that is separate from his private life because he wants to have some things about which he can say "this is just mine". He says he doesn't want every aspect of his life to be fodder for the whole world, and he doesn't every part of his life to be dictated by the entertainment industry.

He's definitely doing the opposite of presenting as straight. Personally, I think he's a role model for other queer artists who might be hesitant about the industry, who might doubt their ability to handle fame and scrutiny. Like you've said, he clearly is out and proud amongst his colleagues. The only people he's putting his persona on for are all the faceless strangers on the internet (who still end up speculating and making accurate guesses anyway because he's still living his life openly and fully and not in hiding). To me, the way he's handling this is so inspiring. He's showing that us that there are ways to navigate the industry without sacrificing all parts of yourself. And in my opinion, that is hugely encouraging for all people, but especially queer people.

Hi, anon!

This is a different way to look at things. I see where you're coming from. Not everyone wants to be trailblazers or a poster child for the queer community. I get it. And they don't have to be. But at the same time, that's what the community craves. Out queer people taking on queer roles is what is needed and encouraged. By not being forthcoming with his sexuality and marriage, he's not representing the community in a way that will normalise seeing queer people on film. It doesn’t matter that he's out bts, he's not out to the gp. Most people assume he's straight. The gp are the ones who need the exposure for it to become normalised. He's already being pegged as a heatthrob, and heartthrobs can't get away with speculation around their private life. I don't think keeping his sexuality and his husband a secret to the gp is going to work very long. He's not exactly lying to us (yet), but he's withholding information. He is taking advantage of heteronormativity, because most people will think he's straight until he says otherwise.

If he continues to be this open about everything bts and keep posting his husband and not really scrubbing his socials, i don't think he'll be able to keep it secret for much longer. I think he either got to batten down the hatches and contain the spread of information or come out.

#anon about removing the post: i'm sorry but i think it's fine? #no need to be anxious it's my blog and my responsibilty #if i didn't think it was okay to post i wouldn't #blame is on me not you #tzp #not 1d

[thomasce]

Project: Windchill - WIP Intro

This is the adventure of one young man - Jeremy Elden, a young, previously-normal college student - to bring down the systems that oppress the community he didn’t know he belonged to. In fact, he didn’t even realize it existed.

In the face of adversity and oppression from the powers that be, Jeremy must learn to harness the new power inside him as he grows to accept that the people he was meant to trust hid pertinent information about the world. Now, he has to relearn everything he thought he knew with his mentors and friends - both new and old. 

Can he live up to being their chosen one? Or will he fall short in the sea of powers that are so much stronger than him?

Everybody knows there’s 12 months in a year. But what if there were more? What if humans, just like other mammals in the world, hibernated during the coldest, cruelest months of the year? What if that wasn’t a biological response? What if humans were forced into this slumber, losing three months of their lives to an uncontested war?

Details:

Genre: Adult speculative fiction novel

Setting:  Midland, Michigan

Themes:  fighting against oppression, freedom of expression, self-discovery

Content Warnings: character death, explicit and graphic depictions of violence

Features: LGBTQ+  protagonist and supporting characters, multiracial cast

Status: Draft 1 (Act 1/3)

Projected Release Date: TBD

The Rebellion

~ The Protagonist ~

Jeremy Elden (21) - a spirited college student. His new kid status hasn’t gotten him many friends in the rebellion, but his place in the prophecy definitely does. But is he really “the chosen one” like these people say? Or is he just cannon fodder for their fight against their oppressors?

~ The Supporting Cast ~

(art by @jasperygrace​ on Tumblr) Quincy Jackson (25) -  a human lie detector. He first met Jeremy in the creative writing club on their college campus two years prior. They didn’t really speak until the next year, when they started hanging out regularly to write outside of school. But when Quincy appears on Jeremy’s doorstep, Jeremy has to rethink everything he knew about his friend.

Terrence Jackson (25) - the brute force powerhouse of the Rebellion. Terry is Quincy’s twin brother, the “body” to Quincy’s “soul.” The two are inseparable, but how will their tight bond hold up in the war they find themselves thrown into every year?

David Marino (22) - a young man with a strange fascination - Jeremy. What started as hero worship slowly fades once he realizes that Jeremy is an absolute disaster with no idea how to save the world. David is determined to help Jeremy on his journey to save the mutants of the world before they are eradicated by the powers that be. How is he supposed to do that when he has no plan?

Frost (???) - a young woman with a mysterious past. Her jovial, friendly nature disarms the adults of the Rebellion, but she quickly turns as cold as her powers when pushed too far about her past. She gets along with everyone, but will she get along with Jeremy when he becomes the new symbol of the Rebellion?

Elliot Lachman (48) - Jeremy’s very tired mentor. He is the right hand of the Rebellion’s leader, Julia, and takes charge in Jeremy’s training to become the savior of the world’s mutant population. His knowledge of the world has gotten him to where he needs to be, but how long will it be until that knowledge runs out?

The Extermination Task Force

Beelzebub (20) - the leader of the mutant extermination task force, a covert operations team under the federal government’s control. Bael was taken in by the government’s covert ops team at a young age and given his new name, hiding his old self deep in the recesses of his mind. Is he meant to stay under the government’s hold for the rest of his life? Or will he find freedom in unlikely places?

Samael (19) - the right hand to Bael in the task force. He was born with only two eyes, but his handlers determined that “biblically accurate angel” fit him better. He is always hesitant to cause destruction in the world despite the angel he was named after being the Angel of Death. How long can he last in the government’s control? Will he cave under the pressure?

Navigation

WIP Page: TBA

Main Tag: #project: windchill

Project Updates: #pro:wind updates

About the Author

C. E. Thomas is a writer and artist with an interest in mythology and conspiracy theories. While they do not believe in these stories, they like to incorporate them into their works. They are currently pursuing a degree in Biological Sciences and hope to work in the pathology field.

#pro:wind #pro:wind updates #wip intro #writeblr intro #writeblr

[mineae]

penacony pt. 1 - firefly

spoilers for honkai star rail's trailblazer story below:

I'm not a big fan of Firefly so far story-wise which is disappointing, because I love her design. Her personality is very innocent and cute, written to be sympathized with and to maximize moe value, dashed with an obligatory tragic backstory to make you go "awww". because I had seen speculations/headcanons before Penacony was released that firefly may be controlling Sam’s robo-suit, I was expecting firefly to reveal her true colors/motivation that was less “Omg I’m sorry I lied I can’t tell you everything rn but I am not totally innocent :(” and more “I like you and wish we didn’t have to be enemies but I’m going to use you before anyone else can. Sorry, but also not sorry.” (it’s still early, there are definitely more acts to the story, so I haven’t marked this possibility out yet).

but at least for the first part of the main story, the purpose for firefly is just cannon emotional fodder. Later, if she comes back, any further role she plays will probably be cheapened from this lackluster introduction. Unless she has some master plan under wraps and her cute and innocent persona was all/mostly a guise…

I do like some of the moments and cut scenes we had with firefly around Golden Hour and firefly’s dialogue about the struggles with her illness and how Penacony is an escape for her. I just wished the writers leaned more on two strangers who get caught in an adventure filled with hijinks across one of the liveliest places in the cosmos rather than playing too hard into the Lies and Truths and Who Can I Trust Here? game since I felt that that was already established with the representatives of the other factions. MC and firefly going back and forth shouldn’t have been included, maybe, or firefly could’ve been upfront and more flippant—up the ante on firefly’s admiration for the Nameless, since they also represent the freedom firefly lacks due to her condition. That would give her the trust and motivation to show MC around and take her to her secret hideout, and tbh for me MC is spacey and casual enough to go along with it. Firefly MAY be dangerous, but MC is gonna take a chance and trust her bc s/he is having fun and we’re in Penacony and on vacation and everything is so cool! And we don’t have any reason to doubt her, and it’s not like we’re divulging any secrets to her, so what’s the harm in getting to know her? I don’t think this is the first time MC blindly trusted someone either, and it’s believable for me, considering MC has “child-like innocence” (that or is sensitive to memoria or both).

Firefly could totally be honest later that she’s also looking for the Watchmaker’s Legacy, but keep the line that she doesn’t wish us to be enemies. lessen her gratitude that we “saved” her from being caught as a stowaway. Ngl I blanked out a bit during that scene, but to me it was less us and more the fact that Gallagher showed up at the right time to tell the NPCs off, so any following gushing from Firefly about how kind and helpful MC was rubbed me the wrong way (which is why I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop because I was like, this girl can’t be for real). I think we should’ve avoided that whole interaction and met Firefly in a more neutral way, and then overhear that security team is looking for a silver-haired girl (I know it was silver-haired boy in the original dialogue, which is interesting, I expected some sort of reveal with that but it hasn’t come up yet) as a stowaway, or drop other hints in our interactions w/ firefly that don’t add up rather than having Sampo/Sparkle tell us she’s suspicious to our face. but maybe we don’t connect the dots until we’re on the rooftop where firefly is like, yeah I am. (Thus skipping all the lying and apologies and whatever.)

One other nitpick: stop having other strangers in-game ship MC with people they’ve just met. there can be chemistry from first meetings, but it sure as heck isn’t going to come from Bystander 1 and 2 going “oh my god you two aren’t a couple?” or “so sorry to interrupt your date?” and “she’s such a lovely and pretty young girl, you’re so lucky!” it’s just the writers telling the player that “aww aren’t you two cute? Now kiss.” *smushes two barbies together* let it develop more naturally… or at least just have the one-off line, instead of dropping the hints 3 (I don’t remember the exact number) times. like, I’m not against this mistaken-as-a-couple trope at all (I love when it’s used right), but in this instance it just feels like another emotional shortcut for the player to feel invested in firefly. It probably works for some, but it just doesn’t for me, because I know it’s not going to go anywhere. and for good reason, because it doesn’t fit in the story. I hesitate to call it fan service. It might be? Or was it supposed to be funny? Or just to show firefly’s shy/bashful side. The last one is probably it.

anyway this is just my opinion as I casually went thru the main story. I’m not a dedicated plot/lore enthusiast so I may have missed some important points but these are just my thoughts. Mostly disappointed they pulled another Teppei with firefly, although firefly is way more preferable to the shoehorn that was Teppei 💀 I just think a couple of minor tweaks could've made Firefly a more likeable character.

Update: finished the last part of the main story where Firefly is killed. I liked the cut scene, but I think we should've had the build-up tension where we uncover Firefly's tracks earlier?? Like I get that we're supposed to have the shock of a sudden death but since we had no real connection to Firefly it was very eh for me. I think that since we were going to backtrack anyway, we could switch POVs for a second to walk around as Firefly in a series of disjointed scenes and then re-converge as MC right before they meet. Dunno though tbh.

Now, when Aventurine leads us to Robyn's corpse, that was epic.

#min plays hsr #honkai star rail #ramblings #thoughts #spoilers

[shannonsketches]

I hope this doesn't come off as rude and I know it's not your headcanon but doesn't suggesting Twinrova/Koume and Kotake were actually Sheikah feel like Gerudo erasure in some ways? It just seems like a pointless change to make when the Gerudo have already been dealt a pretty questionable hand up until recently.

Not necessarily! It’s not like a Scooby Doo reveal of her taking off her Gerudo cloak and revealing herself to have been Secretly Sheikah the Whole Time, it’s just saying that she could potentially have been born Sheikah.

Every Gerudo is born from a non-Gerudo father from a different country (unless you hc Gan/other Gerudo kings have kids), and some are born in those different countries, and will only make the journey back to Gerudo Valley when they come of age (unless you're like me and hc Malon has a Gerudo mother and got to stay on the ranch in exchange for an alliance). So even if her mother was Gerudo, she could still easily and very understandably have a Sheikah father, which would make her Sheikah by birth as well.

Now, if you combined her being fully Sheikah with the theory that she made up the entire Gerudo religion to reflect herself, it's totally erasure, but just suggesting she might have blood from another people doesn't qualify, to me, especially because she would, canonically, anyway, unless she was inhuman, which is also not Gerudo.

In terms of storytelling, I don't think that it's a pointless change at all, and examining potential history of her age, and of where she came from, and why she is among the very few in Hyrule who can do the magic that she does, it's worth spitballing about. After all, the Sheikah were used as fodder under Hyrule (in OoT, at least), and the idea that she is the only Gerudo (in OoT) who could use magic (both elemental and shadowcraft) could be a very interesting thread to follow, both in the sense of how she might have come to be in Gerudo Valley, and in discussing if the Gerudo and the Sheikah share a common ancestral culture that split somewhere long ago in their past, as real human cultures do.

I also think that, regardless of her blood, Twinrova has been in the Valley and serving her people for centuries, so even if she was Sheikah by birth, this is her home, and she is Gerudo now.

The most important thing, of course, is that's it's one theory, of many theories, and nobody is forcing it anyone else. We're all just out here speculating and playing in the sandbox. :3

#lozhc

[incarnateirony]

I know I shouldn't, but I'm really curious about the bullshit this guy Pat says and I would like to have a look at his twitter, what is his twitter account? You talk about him often but many times I don't get it because it's all out of context to me (like your last post with the picture from TW trailer, what happens there?)

shooting an answer before work. Pat uses some variant Of TeamFreeWillTwoPointO on every platform like tfwtwopointo etc. Don't let the name fool you, it fooled many for years, he's a jared stan that does everything he can to minimize and stomp down jensen and other successes and greatly inflate and dramatize Jared's successes. It's a mix of propaganda account and wanna-be leaker

Things Pat has argued with me on saying "his sources" told him:

My statement about the ending: order of death, roadhouse reunion, etc. Pat mocked this not coming true. Radio silence when Dabb clarified the original ending, which Pat never had access to, only the late omitted one. I'd say that was more than his version where he was talking about "a battle for Dean's soul" I sent someone to correct him on that he never picked up on.

THAT anything was omitted. He rabidly denied it and acted like it was in tact, not WANTING to admit a considerably modified finale. Then, the script came. This is why he worked so hard WITH. KELIOS. AND. CO. to try to get the script to have control of it. They spent 5K, we spent 25, and ultimately, well. You know. [Omitted.]

I wrote a post about Jensen having a hard time letting go and moving on. Many posts, actually. The first came the December after the finale, when I "speculated", attached to that phrase, that he was working on something to help his character resolution--the Mary and John details didn't come for several more months as the decided/accepted/inked pitch/deal. Roughly 2 months before the Deadline leak and mantrum day. And, for many months, I reminded people that Jensen had a hard time Letting Go and Moving On in associated contexts I was trying to inform people on. Pat went out of his way to argue with this and call me wrong and projecting, and then Jensen used the phrases verbatim, almost like I might have been quoting him BTS or something IDK!!! Either way, he brushed that under the rug.

I released the pilot script. Pat screamed up and down that his sources said it was fake, totes real CM sources. I know who, that person tried to argue with me too. I knew they were wrong, cuz they couldn't even begin to wrap their heads around why I knew they were wrong. Radio silence since filming and the trailer. Hell my *pinned post* was an effort of explaining like they were five what kind of script it was and what, if any, changes happened. And I mean, give it a skim. Look at filming and the trailer. Tada.

His own friend rings were among the people screaming for SEASONS, until the bitter, awakening end, that Berens had no Destiel intention, or even claimed he supported Wincest, because they had no idea of all the BTS intel about the man or his open secrets of conversations abroad on favorites and intent. He has no concept who anyone is, who they know and are close with, or what these social crossengagements come from. They didn't LIKE the idea that Berens was gunning for Destiel all along, and they denied it, and Pat amplified it. And [gestures at everything] now they're real pressed realizing either he's back, or in the very least, he's boning the showrunner, and might have a teensy little bit of consulting influence.

Now he's out here pitching arguments nobody did. People are out here pointing out the Mise en Scene similarity to purgatory, from gamma lighting to afterlife elements to dean's wardrobe but the goddamn SECOND Pat realized that mise en scene and wardrobe directly anchored Dean to 15.04 and 15.09 specifically, the latter as afterlife fodder, he's losing his mind. "IT'S NOT HAPPENING IN PURGATORY STUPIDS" no shit sherlock we're talking about concepts, story vibes and mise en scene do you fucking understand what this is in your lil peanut brain, pat.

He loves to wave MY SOURCES MY SOURCES MY SOURCES then finally one day when he got pressed he cracked and admitted his source was legit "I have a friend in LA" and "my brother's cousin's boyfriend's best friend worked on a show adjacent to misha once" no I'm not fucking kidding, these are this dude's idea of sources. His only better one is one I use as a tertiary intel source because she's just crawled up from fandom, limited contact, limited perspective, limited development insight, and a LOT of other reasons making her intel complicated to parse.

He tries DESPERATELY to echo me, in some futile attempt to pretend "anyone can do what Min does!!" like he tries to spec unannounced actors and stuff and misses the mark EVERY TIME because he does NOT know this industry, he does NOT know how to qualify leads, and he does NOT know how to keep his media muggle thoughts and biases out of coloring in the information he gets.

So yeah. That's Pat.

He's pressed af and looking to swing against the very obvious patterns going on here. IDK why he thinks that'll change the result.

This man is goddamn OBSESSED with arguing with everything I release, and ALWAYS buries it resultingly making an ass out of himself. He wants real, real bad how to figure out how to do what I do or how to have what I have and my god will he throw his daily temper tantrums to display it.

More often than not, Pat's "intel" is a small whisper of accurate information that means very little without context, that he then appends violently wrong opinions all over to the point the original whisper is unintelligible from itself, leading to him putting out giant editorialization and opinion pieces and trying to call them Inside Information. When not a soul that's worth a damn has ever sat down and talked with him. Promise.

I don't know if he's aware he's doing it, but that's his weakness every time. He can't sort out his wants, dreams, dislikes and fan ambitions from when he does get a nublet of information and decides to figure out how that nublet of information fits into his world view, rather than finding accessory information to understand the world that information exists in and how it interacts with, yknow, reality.

Because in a way, it does feel like Him and His have some sort of derealization going on. Like if they argue and do enough backflips and brush enough failures under the rug, that if they argue REAL HARD and wish on their ring of INFINITE WISHES, reality will change the result for them, and I'm sorry, no matter how many dumb posts Pat, Pathyrn or loljackles (don't get me started on the "pre successful actor" that argued against global industry decline and then whipped it out when walker was failing in 18-35, incorrectly) publish, that's not how it works.

None of these folks actually have a building understanding of what IS, just a million things they want to scream it isn't, whether or not it's coherent, related to the information at hand or resonant with common sense resulting. They have NO fuckin spec, much less ACTUAL INFORMATION, on where this shit IS heading, they're just actively pissing themselves day-in-day-out screaming "NO!!!!"

If Pat put in like. Five minutes. Five minutes of not wanting to argue with something he doesn't like. Five minutes of applying, to me even, the same sort of pattern solving he SHOULD be, but never does, with his "info". That if he put together all the posts in all the world that he wiped out embarrassed on, and me being more accurate than his supposed CM source I told was wrong to their face, and all the other information I'm putting out around it ahead of the curve like actors and writers he can't keep up with that like. He could kinda. Figure out what's happening here. And stop embarrassing himself.

But he won't.

Read between the FUCKING lines, pat.

I'm out here leaking shit as far as episode 3 and these ding dongs still can't wrap their heads around the pilot.

So how about you pack this in your pipe and smoke it: the team not only fully intends to address the confession in this property, but are holding open discourse on the when, where, how, considering the potential accordion nature of the show for a few years.

K?

He's gonna call me a liar. I'm gonna not care. Because it's happening.

It's one of the primary arcs that need to be adjusted to the show arcs if there's an accordion. I need everyone that doesn't like this to start wrapping their fucking grey matter around it right now. It doesn't matter if you like it. The people creating it, Jensen included, do, and have it on the priority plot list

I rarely state my info this directly as much as weaved through supposed theories with some public facing receipts. But fuck it. I'm gonna say it outright and it needs to be said.

jensen isn't who you think he is, Pat2 and lolj. Like. I can not emphasize that enough. Jensen. Is not who you little lot think he is. I'm not saying this... blindly or parasocially as some kind of fan. I'm just sitting here saucer eyed that you haven't figured out what's happening here yet. Even just from your outside views looking in pretending you understand it Inside. Like. There's a certain point I gotta raise my brow and ask what psychic block there is to pretend not to see it even public facing. Much LESS things said behind closed doors. Many of which you have argued with my posts on. Such as Let Go and Move on. Which is honestly, something YALL need to do. He's not what you want him to be any more than Berens was what you wanted him to be all those many years you screamed in denial only to get a gay pie to the face

dumb fuck arguing with my posts basically arguing with jensen or thompson the last year as pre-release of later statements from them because they can't cope that they're real people and not narrative toys for Pat to play with on tumblr.

ok?

ok.

cool.

bye.

#mildew #supernatural #the winchesters

[desmondkane-of-ao3-fame]

So how would Skara and willow become an actual couple? I’m only asking because you have a few different answers.

Unfortunately, I'm not certain what to say, because if you're asking me 'How canonically would Skara and Willow get together,' it's kind of difficult one to answer.

The reason I've given so many answer's as to how Skara and Willow become a couple is because A) People asked often for different variations of it, and B) The show itself doesn't give a lot insight into their relationship, so a lot of speculation's can be made. We know Skara bullied Willow in the past, and we know now the two are friends, but a lot of specifics and nitty gritty details are less clear. The show never even gives a hand-wavey explanation for why Skara and Willow became friends, for Titan's sake. It can make for pretty fun speculation fodder and fan theorizing, but it also means creating a perfectly 100% show accurate answer to how Willow and Skara start dating involves a great deal of headcannoning, and also would involve explaining how Huntlow would break up since it's fairly obvious the intention at the end is that the two are in some form of romantic relationship.

I dooooooooo have something of an idea, a potential outline for a long-term Skarlow focused post-timeskip fanfic I'd be happy to see someone tackle, but with life, GS, and another project, there's too much for me to ever do it myself. So if you would like to take up the challenge of writing it yourself, feel free to take the idea and do it yourself. Hell, I might even beta-read it for you.

It starts from Skara's perspective as it follows her developing feelings over Willow while the pair are at Hexside. Over the years, Skara can't help but grow fond of her team captain and friend, eventually realizing she likes Willow a lot more then she should. She refuses to act on her feelings though, both because of her past as a bully and the fact that she's dating Hunter, so Skara mostly just vents to her bestie Viney about it all. After Hexside, Skara becomes a teachers aide and thinks she's fully gotten over her feelings for Willow until Hunter's 21st birthday, where he proposes to her in front of all their family and friends. Willow runs off, panicked, Luz and Amity follow after, and the party attendee's, unsure what to do, try either to help cheer Hunter up, or slip away before things get bad, which is Skara's method. Later, she hears that Willow broke up with Hunter, and a tiny, selfish pang of hope in Skara's chest reminds her that she hasn't given up her feelings for Willow. Even if she wishes she really had.

Later through Willow's perspective, we see how her relationship with Hunter was like. How she always liked him, cared about him, but never felt the same way for him as she did for her. How she always saw Amity and Luz and her dad's and wondered if she would eventually feel as happy with Hunter as they seemed with their partners. And how she never wanted to hurt Hunter, but after he proposed to her, she just didn't know how to react other then to panic. Essentially, she'd always love Hunter, but never felt in love with him, which leads to a lot of her personal conflict in the story. How she never wanted to hurt her friends, but now seems to have created this painful awkwardness in the Hexsquad because she could never be honest with Hunter or herself...

The main focus would be on both girls and their complicated emotions, both regarding their respective situations and, after a while, their feelings for each other. It would also feature a number of subplots, such as Skara being a teachers aid, Boscha and her relationship with Maya, and Hunter's own journey of self discovery after the breakup.

Not all the details are worked out perfectly, but I think there's at least something here, ya know?

#the owl house #skarlow #willow park #skara #toh #cute #the owl house fanfiction

[itsclydebitches]

have you seen the 'official volume 9 teaser' yet? it came with a plot summary which leaves me... less than enthused for the coming volume

After the harrowing events of Volume 8, our heroines are thrust into an unknown world--the Ever After! However, once Team RWBY explores this strange and mysterious realm, they quickly discover it might not be quite as unknown as they first assumed. As they journey to find a way back home, they'll have to overcome some of their toughest challenges yet--the struggle of their own identities, and whether or not they're equipped to stop Salem.

quite apart from the fact that this seems to confirm that we won't get an answer to 'what happened to everyone in Vacuo' until v10 (unless they give us something at the end of the v9 finale, and at this point I'm bracing for some kind of ridiculous timeskip on the remnant side, i just had the most vivid mental image of oscar with a full beard ;~;), I'm worried that 'the Ever After' is indeed going to be some kind of remnant afterlife (please leave my dead blorbos out of your shenanigans, RT!!!! let them sleep!!!!), or else it's some sort of Wonderland clone which I still don't trust them with, so idek

but also! what identity struggles? when have any of them really grappled with who they are or even their place in the world? blake, MAYBE, but everything to do with the white fang was so badly bungled i can't imagine them circling back around to that intentionally, especially since she was fixed by killing a man and some soft Hand Holding, meanwhile ruby never showed any indication of struggling with who she is, neither did yang--and it's odd, because loss of a parent (in yang's case, two, considering she lost both her mothers) is usually prime fodder for an identity crisis. the closest i can imagine coming is weiss, but wouldn't it had made more sense to tackle her struggle for an identity before having her drop a quippy one-liner about arresting her father?

not to mention the last part of that sentence--one would think they'd have stopped to consider whether or not they were equipped to stop salem when she boldly told them she was coming for them at the end of v7, rather than spending all of v8 fighting against their former allies and ignoring salem's presence entirely (with the exception of like five minutes of the b-team needlessly infiltrating the whale to save someone who'd already gotten himself free).

anyway, yeah, i'm so not excited for this coming volume. i'm just tired.

I’ve now watched the teaser!

There’s a lot to mention here, so I’m going to fall back on my handy-dandy bullet points:

Yeah, based on this teaser and the summary it looks as if Volume 9 might take place entirely in the Ever After. (I’m reserving judgement on the name for now. See if it grows on me...) Given how detailed some of the shots seem and the theory that this is partly why the Volume has taken so long (+ movie), I can’t believe the group would suddenly make it back to Vacuo in episode five or something as a “twist.” I’ve said since the end of Volume 8 that they might do a time skip/only show Vacuo in the finale. That’s looking even more likely now.

Pushing back against that though, a teaser obviously doesn’t show us everything, but I still find it strange that both this trailer and our summary don’t mention/show Jaune. It could be that Vacuo events haven’t been included yet the same way that Jaune hasn't. Or…

I’ve already seen some speculation that this might be Jaune, given that he otherwise doesn’t seem to be with the group, the Knight’s identity is currently hidden, and he’s wearing a warrior/tank's armor like Jaune favors. The idea is that this world might have pockets that move differently through time, especially for those who don’t fall close together, and this is an older Jaune who has spent months or years lost here. Honestly, I’d hate that? I don’t like the idea of a time skip for RWBY at all, but especially not for Jaune as a way of milking his Penny grief and separating him even more from the group as some special case. I mean, there’s no actual evidence for this theory—pure speculation that will likely be debunked by the next trailer—but I’m just going on the record that I don’t want it lol.

Okay, let’s actually start going through this trailer in order. First, who’s the narrator? It doesn’t sound like Jinn to me. I want to say it’s someone new, but also it’s quite possible I’m just not recognizing a character’s voice after the long hiatus.

“This is the story of a girl…” Is it? I mean, kudos to the teaser for trying to bring us back to that, but Ruby hasn’t felt like the protagonist to me in a very long time. If this Volume succeeds in anything, I hope it’s in giving Ruby the compelling, consistent development she’s been lacking since she left Beacon.

“Before she went back home…” This is absolutely a nitpick, but it bugs me that seven seconds into a teaser we’re told the conclusion of this arc. It’s a nitpick because duh the group is going to make it back to Remnant. I doubt there’s a single person in the whole RWBY fandom who seriously thought, for even a moment, that they were permanently dead (or permanently stuck in whatever alternate reality this might be). But it’s the principal of the thing? The ability to suspend my knowledge of narrative conventions and pretend like this is a major hurdle for them? Hearing that line just took me right out of the story

MOUSE FAMILIAR?

Hmm. Admittedly, I am not immune to an adorable companion. 10/10 I’ll put up with a lot if the mouse is cute enough in the show proper.

More importantly, I do like this shot for the expression Ruby’s got. It’s harder to tell in a screenshot, but she looks like she’s horrified, but too numb to actually react to whatever she’s seeing (or thinking about). Combined with this shot:

It looks like we might actually get a Ruby grappling with her trauma. I mean, we thought Volume 6 was doing that too, only for that to get swept away under a booo adults mentality, but maybe the death of Penny (again…) will do what the last five volumes have failed to? That's if that glimpse of Penny doesn't lead to all their dead friends showing up 😬

Beyond the emotion discussed above, I’m not really digging the animation yet. It’s clearly a mix of Alice in Wonderland and… Candyland? And while I normally like nonsense elements in a fantasy, I’m not sure I like it specifically for RWBY, a show that has been trying for the last 6+ years to be taken very, very seriously. Which isn’t to say that you can’t or shouldn’t take absurdist aspects seriously—they function as metaphors and the like—only that there’s this jarring disconnect between trying to grapple with half the group being eaten in a hostile desert while the other half frolics among cherry-topped snow piles and candy mushrooms, or whatever. Obviously not everything in this place is welcoming, or even presenting the veneer of child-like safety, but I’m still encountering the same problem I’ll discuss in my “A Nightmare Comes” recap: it’s really hard to buy into the supposed horror of this grimm when our vehicle for encountering it is bunny!Jaune huddled in his footie PJs while silly-looking statues threaten him. RWBY has struggled with tone for several seasons now and though clearly this place is meant to pit that fantasy wonder against the real horrors underneath… this teaser isn’t helping to convince me that RWBY will pull it off.

Also, who did it better?

(My answer is Witcher XD)  

We get a line about “the tree,” not just “a” tree, confirming what we already suspected about this foliage being important. It might even be the same tree seen in the God of Light’s temple. Not literally the same in terms of design, but some mystical-esque tree that’s connecting this realm to Remnant’s.

We see some potential new antagonists alongside a shot of Neo:

And someone else who fell? Or accessed the realm another way? It certainly looked like the group washed up on shore and she seems to be coming from the ocean.

A Cheshire Cat reference, a crown, and quick shots of the rest of Team RWBY wandering about:

I like some of these shots a LOT more than I like the look of the realm as a whole, so I’m hoping that opinion continues. We’ve waited for this season for so long and there’s such an emphasis on Ever After itself, I feel like we should all at least be able to enjoy the beauty of the volume, even if the writing remains a mess. I really am flip-flopping though because one second it’s, “Oooo gorgeous leaves housing mysterious eyes” and then, “How did Jaune grow his hair long enough to cover a whole tree?”

I’ll be honest and say that I’m not sure what to make of the whole “What are you?” question yet. It may be literal—who are these humans/faunus to the animal denizens of a magical world? (Oh god, how is that going to intersect with Blake?) But it’s clearly meant to mean so much more than that, echoing the earlier question of “Who had [Ruby] become?” Immediately, the introduction of “what” made me think about titles. What are they? Heroes or villains? Huntsmen or children? Remnant’s saviors or just another, short term weapon pointed at the enemy? Given how well RWBY has tackled such questions in the past, I truly doubt I’ll be satisfied with whatever Ever After supposedly teaches them. R now my only hope is that, as said, we get some good Ruby development in a direction I can support, even if the general takeaway is still them being told by the magical realm that they’re the bestest heroes ever who of course will defeat Salem… never mind that they haven’t spent a moment since her immortality reveal even trying to think about how to stop her.

I sure hope that subdued, minuscule smile isn’t Yang seeing Blake for the first time post-death…

Finally, as a few others have already pointed out, the end of the teaser does say “early 2023,” so it looks like we should expect more of a six-ish month wait, as opposed to the nearly year and a half I was envisioning last night. The reveal of this crossover film (I'm still ??? about that) is likewise another explanation for why Volume 9 has taken so long… but really, my overall sense of things remains the same. RT doesn’t feel very stable right now and the fact that there are so many RWBY projects atm isn’t, to me, necessarily a sign of them flourishing, but rather that they’re spreading themselves thin. It would be a totally different story if post-lockdown they had been able to prioritize Volume 9 in a way that quickly got us back on schedule, maintaining good communication with fans throughout, and also advertised some side projects that they had additional resources and time for without throwing anything else (projects, people) under the bus… but that doesn't seem to be the case. RT’s continuing problems don’t, for me, shine a positive light on the myriad of RWBY things that keep popping up. As @feen-feet mentioned on another post of mine—thanks for the info!—I’m not sure more installments are automatically a sign of RT doing well, at least not in the way many fans want to use these projects as definitive evidence for how everything is not only perfect, but reaching new and shiny heights.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas