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#I have an existential crisis every 5 years or so anyway
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Nothing To See Here, Just Some Thorston Twins HCs
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1. Even though Ruffnut calls Tuffnut her “baby brother” when he faked his own death, I like to believe they take turns being the first-born. Imagine they were born into chaos, where their mother passes out before she can see the birthing order and the only mid-wife dies of a heart attack while she’s still out cold. Literally no one in the world knows which of them was born first.
2. Their family loves to gamble, to the point that the Thorstons were known as the richest clan of Berk for two weeks and then lost everything the following day. This is how the twins adopted the mindset of “if you feel lucky, go for it” in everything they do. If they fail, they might win later anyway.
3. Technically, they have a secret language between themselves. But Ruffnut likes to make a bunch of random-ass noises to confuse everyone around her, and Tuffnut is still working on deciphering what his sister tries to communicate to him. 
4. They’re the best at distractions on missions, whether as live bait or utilizing their expertise on explosions. They’re the worst at interrogation, however, as they often forget what questions they were supposed to ask. On several occasions, it devolved into Tuffnut breaking down into an existential crisis while Ruffnut used the torture devices on herself out of boredom. 
5. They tie for being the second youngest out of the Dragon Riders. I don’t know why, exactly, but I like the idea that everyone’s birth order is Snotlout, Astrid, Hiccup, Ruff/Tuff, and Fishlegs. It just feels right, you know?
6. The first time they were ever separated for a day was when they were six years old. Ruffnut was sick and Tuffnut was forced to attend school alone. By lunch, he’d convinced himself that Ruffnut was just an imaginary friend who disappeared forever because he grew out of it, and screamed bloody murder when he returned home to find her sleeping in their shared bed. If he gets delirious enough, he’ll go back to thinking his sister is an apparition.
7. Ruffnut has a bucket list solely dedicated to pranks, which includes selling her cousin, Gruffnut, to pirates. She once bonded with Fishlegs over an interest in the expansive flora around Berk, only for him to learn that she used his own knowledge of toxic berries to poison him at dinner that very night. She’s never been trusted to forage for food by herself ever since. 
8. Tuffnut has secretly threatened, either directly or indirectly, every boy his sister has so much as implied to have a crush on. At one point, Snotlout found him about to cave in a fisherman’s skull with a mace because a twelve-year-old Ruffnut said he was “kind of cute.” 
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allthoseotherworlds · 4 months
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Just for the record, not all people who dislike the bigeneration thing also dislike the timeless children or the idea of pre-Hartnel Doctors.
And also I'm getting kind of tired of people saying that complaining about the implications of the bigeneration for the fifteenth Doctor means you didn't properly appreciate Ncuti Gatwa's performance.
Ncuti's performance was great! I am not saying that he didn't do a good job, he was very striking and had great energy and as far as I can tell everybody I've seen has been able to recognize that and be excited about it!
I also am in what I think maybe the minority in that I really liked the Timeless children stuff. I thought it was interesting and enjoyed it.
My complaint about the bigeneration stuff is specifically that they need to make it clearer that the 15th Doctor is *the Doctor*, the original Doctor, the same one who has been through every regeneration so far.
I am aware there are a few lines in the special that can be interpreted in that way - doing rehab out of order, and so on.
But it isn't clear enough for me to trust that this is specifically their intention, and it does matter to me whether or not they're the same person. Maybe it shouldn't, maybe I'm pedantic and nitpicky and care too much about the details, but nevertheless it is important to me.
I think maybe a relevant thing here is that a lot of people discuss regeneration and the different Doctors as though they're all different people who are loosely connected by shared memories?
Whereas I tend to see them as the same person, consistent through each regeneration even though appearance changes and surface level personality traits get reshuffled a little. Every personality trait that any Doctor displays is one they all have, just in different quantities and displayed in different ways. To me they're all still the same person, just like I'm the same person now as I was 5 years ago, even though I look different and interact with people differently - my core identity, personality, and values haven't really changed that much.
So it matters to me whether or not be bigeneration is just a time travel thing, where 14 and 15 are fundamentally the same person and 15 is just brought back in time sort of,
Or whether the original Doctor was essentially killed and replaced with two copies,
Or whether one or the other of the two is the original and the other is a copy.
I *know* this doesn't need to matter, but it still feels important to me. It's the kind of existential crisis that shows up in these sorts of stories a lot for a reason- even though there may not be a practical difference, it's still something that feels important at least to some people.
And I just hope that the writers understand that this is something that's important to people, even if they don't explicitly address it.
Anyway, I just wanted to say all of this because I feel like I've seen an increasing number of people complain about other people disliking the bigeneration stuff with the assumption that they dislike it for a reasons that are not the reasons that I have.
To summarize: I like Ncuti Gatwa, I think he's doing a great job and would like to see more, I intend to watch his stuff and support him in the role. I'm not against weird backstory changing plot things in Doctor Who and I liked the timeless children. My issue with the bigeneration is pedantic lore related existential crisis stuff and the implications thereof. I'm aware this is a very nitpicky autistic thing to care about, but I am a nitpicky autistic, so (shrug emoji)
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ecoamerica · 20 days
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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared
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persnickety-peahen · 2 years
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i saw a post talking about how wild the human brain is, and in the comments, someone mentioned aphantasia, which made me feel things and i just have to talk about it so here ya go all seven of my followers and people interested in whatever tags i end up using:
if you don't know what aphantasia is, no shame at all. although it's becoming more widely known and researched, it's still a fairly obscure neurological condition. heck, i only know about it because i read an article on it once about six years ago and realized, hey, i have that!
essentially, aphantasia is the lack of a mind's eye, an inability to voluntarily produce mental images. sometimes it's acquired after a brain injury, but it's predominantly just something folks are born with. estimates about the number of people it affects vary pretty significantly—i've seen everything from 1% or less to as much as 5% of the global population! that's wild! statistically, that means you might probably know someone with aphantasia . . . or maybe you have it yourself but, like me, didn't even know it was a thing until someone told you it was and now you've got a little mini existential crisis on your hands where you realize that the brains of at least 95% of the people you know work in a fundamentally different way from your brain and you're missing out on an experience they all have in common and aaaaah
i don't know anyone else irl who has aphantasia, so when i find someone online who does it's like that moment when a dog sees another dog and recognizes that they're a dog and just goes absolutely crazy. i am consumed by the desire to overshare infodump about all the ways aphantasia has affected my life and then compare notes like, do you also have such a bad autobiographical memory that more than half of your childhood memories are actually reconstructions based on stories other people have told you about your own life? do you also sometimes get unreasonably anxious about being a victim of a crime someday and getting a good look at the perpetrator but not being able to describe them to police later because you can't picture what they look like and even a sketch artist wouldn't help and would probably only make things worse as whatever they draw would slowly replace what little memory you do have? are you one of those aphantasiacs who never got into reading because you couldn't picture things? or are you like me and loved reading anyway, but a) got really bored and pulled out of it when authors spent time describing what something or someone looked like because it didn't do anything for you and b) got really confused when your friends would talk about how they didn't like the movie adaptation of something because it "wasn't how they pictured it when reading" and you didn't know what the hell they meant by that? and then you went on to become a creative writer obsessively concerned with imagery and if you have enough of it to satisfy those people who actually like when things are visually described? do you want to get into drawing but give up in frustration every time you try because of the lack of direction you experience from not having an image in your mind's eye to that you're trying to draw in the first place? do you need visual aids to really understand certain scientific and mathematical concepts? were you frustratingly bad at making and interpreting graphs for school projects and presentations? and now you hope you picked a career path where you won't ever have to do that ever again?
are you also terrible at estimating distance and length and height because words like "foot" or "meter" mean nothing to you, much less bigger measurements like miles and kilometers? do you also need google maps to get anywhere despite living in the same city your whole life because lacking a mind's eye also means you lack the ability to make mental maps? were your inability to navigate and difficulty with measurements something people made fun of you for the same way they made fun of me for it? and now that you know you have aphantasia you can snap back at them and be all, actually the reason i can't navigate or understand measurements is because of a neurological condition so you're basically making fun of me for being disabled, how about that? do you also sometimes get sad and think about how you don't really remember anymore what your loved ones who've passed away look like? or even what your loved ones who aren't currently in the same room as you look like? how you rarely notice if someone got a haircut or new piercing or tattoo or otherwise changed their appearance because you can't visually compare it to how they looked the last time you saw them?
when you try to picture a loved one's face, what happens? me, i run through a list of traits in my head, oftentimes more focused on personal attributes than physical ones because that's what i'm actually capable of remembering consistently. i don't just know what someone's hair or eye color is—i have to memorize it, like a fact for school. mom and dad have blue eyes. my husband has hazel-ish green eyes. my best friend is blonde, but her hair is darker now than it was when we were kids, and she got glasses while we were going to college in different cities, i should know that by now and stop being surprised when i see her wearing glasses. her mom, my second mother, has straight brown hair and a long face, but i can't remember what color her eyes are even though i've known her for twenty years. i think they're blue, but i can't picture it. i don't know for sure, and if i think about it too long it kills me. when i have kids, will i remember their eye colors? or will i have to ask my husband if he knows?
i take a lot of pictures. all the time, of everything—of people, of scenery, of my food, or myself, of pets and cools animals i see strolling around the city. boomers criticize me for not living in the moment, and it makes me feel awful, like i have to choose between experiencing something and remembering it. cause yeah, without the pictures, i would forget. i keep movie stubs and playbills and fair tickets and museum handouts and even fucking hospital bracelets, and i cherish them the same way other people cherish religious items.
it's lonely sometimes, having aphantasia.
the people close to me know about it, so they know how to accommodate me in relation to it, and they're supportive and interested in learning more. but they don't live with it themselves, so even though they know what it is, they don't know what it is, ya know? their knowledge is all second hand. as wonderful as my people are, when i'm really feeling my aphantasia and getting into those sad thought spirals, talking with them about it just isn't the same as it would be to talk with someone else who has aphantasia and has dealt with the same issues and feelings about it
i guess in the end i just want what we all do: community. when i find someone else with aphantasia, i don't wanna be like a dog seeing another dog because i'm so starved for contact with other folks like me; i wanna be like someone recognizing another member of a long distance club i regularly participate in, like hey! same hat! and then go about the rest of my day because i'm satisfied with the community i have. ya know?
anyways yes this is a free invite to message me if you have aphantasia or think you might have it and you wanna compare notes and chat about shared experiences, or alternately if you know someone who has aphantasia or are just curious about it and want to learn more about it :D
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lukefonfabre · 10 months
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kamen rider REVIEW!!!
i was gonna do this on twitter but twitter is dead now. anyway i decided when i finished ryuki i would review every kr i’ve watched so far so here it is. no spoilers (i think) but it is fucking long. 
build - i can’t believe it’s been 5 years since i watched build… i miss her so bad every day… but also build had a lot things that i couldn’t stand. however the yaoi was really fucking good. also build is pretty strong overall despite it all. we need that energy back for kamen rider so bad but all they do now is try to sell toys. i really like sento as a protagonist because he’s so funny and quirky but also not like the usual kr protagonist who is stupid. i mean he is still stupid but in a different way. banjou is more like the protagonist type but he is actually just sento’s boyfriend. love wins. my thing about build is that i didnt care about kazumi or gentoku or katsuragi or any of the other men (evolt can stay #sexy). so sometimes i was sitting there like oh my god. enough. also the way they nerfed sawa and misora pissed me off. but that final episode hit hard enough that i forgave all the shit the last 10 or so episodes put me through. which is true of a lot of kamen riders like if they hit that ending it’s like all is forgiven baby!!! but anyway i love build. i miss her. i love her. 
ooo - i got so obsessed with ooo that 5 years ago i was in a college english class and they asked me what my favorite tv show was and i said kamen rider ooo. right there in front of everyone. ms. kobayashi really got me with that one! everyone has already said this but the relationship between ankh and eiji is so interesting both on a yaoi level and a psychological level… the human won’t let himself want anything and the monster whose existence is all about wanting things. and they’re in love. wow! the whole ooo cast is great though and i think it’s so cute that the actors still interact 10+ years later. i love hina so much… i love gotou and date and satonaka. i miss them. i’m sorry that ooo 10th was like that but i will forgive them. i guess. i think ooo’s one weakness is that the monster of the week episodes were kinda boring. like bro i don’t care about this guy getting back into wrestling what about ankh’s existential crisis!!!! but it’s ok we all have our flaws. i love you ooo. 
ex-aid - i THINK i watched ex-aid after ooo but honestly i don’t remember? wild that i went from ooo to ex-aid actually. ex-aid is a deeply controversial work because it sucks so bad but it’s also really fucking funny. but also sometimes it really is unwatchable like i tried to watch a couple of the first few episodes with eri and i was like this is horrible i’m being tortured but then when i think about parad i get hysterical. the duality of ex-aid. I think a lot of ex-aid is not very good. and yet it has something… some kind of power that makes me tell people to watch it and then they’re like this sucks and i’m like yeah! (this has happened 2 times.) but i do like ex-aid despite the fact that it’s really loud and annoying and the camera angles are weird and the belt noises are insufferable. it’s funny. i think the idea of gamer doctors fighting to the death(?) is hilarious. it definitely impacted me that’s for sure. there’ll never be another one like it… despite takahashi doing multiple krs since then (mistake). ex-aid is the demon that haunts me.
w - i think i’ve actually forgotten a good chunk of what actually happened in w but it was good. it was solid. philip and shotaro and akiko found family baby!!! and w made me tolerate a cop so that’s something. i really have nothing else to say here. ok actually w totally fell apart when it killed off the sonozakis and brought in that weird-ass doctor and that random villain who showed up at the end but philip and shotaro carried it… for me. and akiko of course she was everything to me. also again the final episode made me forgive everything because it was like they’re reunited!!! (sobbing and screaming and crying) 
fourze - for a while i didn’t hype up fourze that much because of the american high school aesthetic, which is actually really funny but not exactly my taste. but gentaro truly is a wonderful good boy. he loves his friends PERIOD. also ryusei was really funny because everyone else was like some kind of american teen drama trope (the goth girl, the jock, the cheerleader, etc.) and then there was ryusei who was like two-faced bitch alert! i love that. also kengo and gentaro were in love so there was #yaoi. that one episode where kengo was mad bc ryusei and gentaro were getting along and he was so jealous i cried. i would give anything for another kr as good as fourze tbh. 
den-o - when i first started kamen rider i was like i’m not watching that old shit (pre-neo heisei) but then i was like ok i will give den-o a chance because it was written by ms. kobayashi… and it was good. it was really fucking good. like there’s not a lot of crazy shit it’s mostly just funny shenanigans with the imagins and ryoutarou’s hard knock life but you still feel emotional about it all… ms. kobayashi’s genius. her range. even though the plot makes absolutely no fucking sense i think it’s fine. it’s about the feelings. the bonds. and also trains. 
ryuki - so after not watching kamen rider for 4-5 years i started watching ryuki with lain because they put it on tokushoutsu. and wow was i not prepared for whatever that was! i don’t think there is a way to prepare yourself for ryuki actually. but i will say that ms. kobayashi once again impacted me with her talent. her ability to create so many weird and mentally ill men… i’m obsessed. also i love shinji so much he is just an silly little dogboy who is being forced to confront the trolley problem and also fight to the death. why did she do all that to him? also why did she give kitaoka a beautiful and perfect malewife? why did she make asakura so sexy? why did she make tojo like that? why can’t ren be nice to shinji just a little? i have a lot of questions and no answers. there was never a dull moment with ryuki bc there was always some shit going on. every single guy was fascinating except the ones that were meant to be annoying as hell. and the ensemble cast of yui and ore journal and aunt sanako… love them. they are all so funny and iconic. i wish i could say more but i would spoil it. ms. kobayashi’s wild ride. as you can see ryuki has left me incoherent. i will not recover from what ryuki did to me. gen urobuchi you will never be her. 
blade - i started watching blade while also watching ryuki to prevent myself from looking up spoilers but it didn’t work. anyway the point is i watched all of blade while also watching ryuki with lain. it was interesting to watch them at the same time bc toward the end blade started copying ryuki so hard with the battle royale shit it was like ok girl i guess! blade is interesting bc a lot of krs have a strong start and then go off the fucking rails but blade is the opposite. it starts off like what the fuck is all this now then at the very end it’s like ohhh it’s about how the love was there all along. bring out the yaoi. i think at least 30 episodes of blade are complete nonsense like you will be sitting there like um okay i guess? but it’s worth it for the shakespearean gay tragedy of kenzaki/hajime. i can’t say i really liked mutsuki or tachibana but toward the end i started finding them really funny like i couldn’t really be mad because tachibana is so pathetic you just have to chuckle and mutuski has teenager disease. although it was tiring watching them both be assholes to their beautiful girlfriends for so long like ok can we get back to how in love kenzaki is with hajime PLEASE. but oh well. we can’t have everything!
if you actually read all of this thank you. i have so much to say and yet my brain is very small… i will continue making my poor quality videos to show my respect however. kamen rider the world. 
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rothjuje · 1 year
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I’m finally feeling back to my normal self and it’s so. nice. Around Thanksgiving my mental health took a nosedive. It started with a small existential crisis and then a bunch of small things snowballed (kids being sick since mid October, Justin traveling a lot, no Thanksgiving plans, my friend keeping me sane went back to work, Alyssa struggling behaviorally and academically, George struggling with public outings, anxiety flare up, and a bad period). Whew.
Anyway. Existential crisis is still alive and well, but it’s mostly situational. Our goal, for our entire 10 years together, has been to move to a desirable location. We have been working on relocating somewhere where we both can be happy and put down roots. And now we’re here, and I am deeply grateful for that, but also I am left without A Goal and it’s made me panicky.
I have so many small goals, but my story arc is gone. I think it’s the ADHD in me that is attracted to bright and shiny goals. It is challenging to emotionally invest myself into just regular life stuff. Adderall has helped me get regular life stuff done, but when they wear off the consuming panic of why does consciousness exist/why am I here/what should I be doing? sets in.
I’m hoping eating more vegetables and daily exercise and my sun therapy lamp will quiet it.
Anyway. Our 6 month (!!!) anniversary of moving to MA was Dec 19. I cannot believe we’ve been here for 6 months. Well, I can, it feels like a lifetime. Jan 15 will be 6 months at home in Georgetown.
We walked the property for the first time recently (yeah I don’t know why it took 5 months, but also couldn’t take twins to the top of the mountain with no trail so needed a babysitter) and discovered property that we thought was ours is not and property we thought wasn’t ours is. Which is very surprising after living here for almost half a year haha.
Apparently from the edge of our front lawn and all the way back to the top of the hill is two thirds of our 1.84 acres. We thought the hill went further up and that most of our land was unusable. But to the right there is a whole other part that we couldn’t even see before the leaves fell, and then we just assumed it was the neighbor’s. But it’s ours and it’s one third of our total land, which is a lot. And there are several flat spots! Lots of trees though. But definitely room for a fire pit and kids’ play area.
I’ve worked a lot with Alyssa recently, academically and behaviorally (she’s waitlisted for behavioral therapy) and she’s in a much better place and is able to complete assignments with minimal direction. She has a bit of a wild side, but I think it’s more ADHD related than from behavioral issues. We have a lot of similarities (very creative and perpetually bored) but my anxiety always kept my behavior in check. Alyssa is the opposite of a people pleaser, and I love her free spirit, but it makes cooperating in the classroom more of a challenge for her.
George is also in a better place with public outings. He got dragged on so many holiday errands and was a champ. I think if we don’t do errands for a while he’ll panic in public but if it’s regularly he knows what to expect and will actually scream less than Gen. But that’s no surprise, she’s still the feistiest three year old I know.
I need to go back to work. Or at least have the goal of going back to work to keep me sane. I’m going to pursue real estate for a year and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Classes here are only 40 hours and courses are currently on sale. I just need to jump.
What else? We’re getting an inexpensive treadmill as soon as we decide on if we’re doing the basement floors or not. I am going to run to the loudest music possible at 8 pm every night. I am going to DIY stairs to make the newfound property more easily accessible. Goats and bees are a go, but I’m not sure when. Chickens I’m still undecided for this year just because the amount of work (making and managing an incubator) and money (nice coops are pricey and wood is crazy expensive right now). So I do have some goals to keep me from going completely insane.
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bluestripedspeedo · 2 years
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Indiscreet – 01. Before... Pairing: Writer/Producer!Javi Gutierrez x you (Hollywood AU) SERIES MASTERLIST
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Chapter summary: How it all starts – you are offered a role of a lifetime. Chapter warning: Still on the flirting phase, so nothing spicy yet. The age gap is around 20 years. You're in your mid to late 20s. Some OCs are introduced here, but only a few of them will stick around. Words: 6,3k
Playlist: Songbird - Fleetwood Mac Cornelia Street - Taylor Swift False God All I Want - Joni Mitchell River A Case of You
Author's note: Thank you all for the feedback on the introduction chapter! I'm so excited to finally get this story fully going. Javi loves movies, and you love movies, and I'll be happy if you can find references in this and future chapters. 😉 And in case it's not clear yet, regardless of whatever aesthetic posts I reblog, the actress is you. So she looks like what you look like.
✧✧✧
NOVEMBER
The New York winter feels brutal as you wobble your way into a brownstone building in Brooklyn. Thankfully you had decided against taking the subway. And thankfully cabs exist. You can’t imagine braving the sidewalks in your 5-inch boots that’ll crack your head open like an egg if you even attempt to walk in them. Not to mention balancing your handbag, a Tiffany shopping bag full of baby gifts, and a huge bouquet of flowers. You’re glad to be out of your apartment and meeting someone who’s not from your previous job or random parties.
Óscar invited you to his place practically the minute you touched down at JFK five months ago. Your parents wanted you to stay in touch with him just to have an emergency contact in the city. They have been longtime friends from when he was an up-and-coming actor who hung out in the same circles your mother did in her modeling days. Your presence in the previous Morales house used to be a fortnight occurrence until he had to fly out to shoot and you were swamped with work that the routine had ceased a few months ago.
Not only that, but you’ve been needing alone time more often than usual. Even now, in your head you’re already setting up a schedule for another solo night. Pick up a few bottles of wine and gin. Get some macarons from Ladurée on the way home. Order Chipotle. Stop by the cart for a falafel wrap. Pick up a box of microwaveable mac and cheese. Don’t forget Coke again. You have been slowly going insane from the same cycle of waking up, eating, watching movies, and going back to sleep every single day without anything else to look forward to.
Upon graduation your parents had encouraged you to take any opportunities from their friends, acquaintances, business partners; but you didn’t. You’d thought you were too good for an actual job. That’s not where you belong. You’d kill yourself first before committing to a 9 to 5.
And that was an arrogant mistake. It now leaves you with nothing to do and no friends to regularly hang out with because they’re all busy with their grownup jobs. So you spend your time writing anything that comes to mind and reading books and watching movies while traveling the world to give yourself a bit of spark. Not that any of that actually did anything for you. 
You had been looking forward to another year of existential crisis when you had the bright idea of moving to the city that never sleeps. Okay, it wasn’t entirely your idea. Your parents finally got tired of seeing you lounge around in their house all day and told you please, find somewhere to go and something else to do that’s not another vacation. We’ll pay for it. So you decided to come here, to the Big Apple, even though you used to think it was the most overrated city on earth. You thought the intimidating chaos and endless options of things to do could finally inspire and push you to actually make yourself useful.
So you finally accepted an internship under a fashion designer whom your mother was a muse to just to be around pretty clothes that you already loved fawning over anyway. And with that, you picked the most gorgeous place with views people would kill for: a sprawling four-bedroom condo with its own lap pool, gym, home theater, and sunroom overlooking Central Park on one side and skyscrapers on the other. All paid for by your folks under the condition that you’ll do something and support yourself from that point on.
I bet their view is nice too from here, you think as the elevator rides up to the topmost floor. Yesterday Óscar asked you to come by their new place after a month-long whirlwind of moving, childbirth, and welcoming well-wishers. He said you were due for a catch up and that he has something for you in mind. Your internship had only lasted a couple of months before it took a toll on you mentally. You love keeping up with runway shows and buying nice things as a hobby, but you couldn’t care about the behind the scenes process as much as you wanted to. Whatever Óscar has in store for you, it’s bound to be much more interesting.
The elevator opens with a ding to a circular foyer with a round table in the middle. You’re not sure where to go from where you stand, so you set your gifts on the table. You’re about to pull up your phone and call Óscar when you hear Ava’s footsteps approaching.
“Hey! I didn’t think you’d be here for another hour.”
“Am I interrupting anything? I’m sorry, I didn’t end up taking the subway and–” you start.
“It’s fine, I was just putting the baby to sleep. But, good decision. Those look painful,” she says, leading you by the elbow to a small closet space and handing you a pair of house slippers. You thank her for it. You wanted to dress really well to impress Óscar as a form of courtesy, and gratitude too, but damn if it’s not entirely comfortable. 
You take off your boots and your long green coat, leaving you in your jeans and white long sleeved turtleneck. “I got you some flowers and a couple of things for the baby. I wasn’t sure where you were, so…” you gesture to the table.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to. It’s nice to finally see you again! How have you been?”
“Well, fine. I walk around the city most days, hang out, travel when I have time…”
“As you should,” she gives you a sincere smile. “I have one more thing to do, and Óscar should finish his call any time now. Why don’t you wait in that room at the end there? Make yourself comfortable.”
“Sure.”
When you reach the end of the apartment, you find yourself in a big bright room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s breathtaking. Pictures in frames are on the walls next to shelves of trinkets from their travels abroad, tattered vinyl records, and worn out books. Colorful throws and rugs adorn the surrounding seats in front of the TV that’s blaring an animated show about a platypus detective. You see the couple’s eldest son sleeping on the couch next to a vaguely familiar looking man who’s typing on his phone. He looks up when he realizes your presence. You awkwardly hover around and he stares at you with an unreadable expression.
“Hi,” says the man after a brief pause. Oh god. “Are you waiting for Óscar?” His voice…
“Yeah. Ava told me to wait here.” You walk to the lounge chair closest to him and sit down. Glancing down at the boy who is still unfazed, you feel the man’s eyes on you. You look up at him, his eyes catching yours. They’re a warm shade of brown, soft and intense at the same time. “Uh, hi. I’m Óscar’s… friend.” He’s more like an extended family to you, with him occasionally popping in and out throughout your life. And he’s more like your parents’ friend, not yours, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I know,” he says. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Óscar said you’re coming over.” 
“But we haven’t met, have we?” You cock your head towards him, trying to figure out if you’ve seen him somewhere. He really does look familiar. Maybe a small-time actor?
“No, no. I’m Javi.” He offers his hand to you. You shake it briefly and tell him your name; your handshake weak and noncommittal to his firm and encapsulating one. 
“You look familiar… are you an actor too?”
Surprise briefly crosses Javi’s face before he points to an action figure on the floor. “No, but… That’s mine.” You just look at it in confusion, so he continues. “The Man in Beskar?”
“…what?”
“The Man in Beskar. From The Forces Saga. I wrote that.”
“Oh.” You still haven’t shown any sign of recognition.
“The movie with the green alien baby?”
“OH. Yeah. I’ve seen the memes!” Your face lights up. “I haven’t seen it yet. My friends are obsessed though. So, scriptwriter?”
“And producer.”
“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve always wanted to do that. Well, both of your jobs, actually.”
“Yeah? What do you do?”
“Nothing at the moment. I used to be an assistant for a fashion designer.”
“But movies are more interesting?”
“But movies are more interesting.” You nod in agreement. “What else?”
“The Iron Throne?”
“Uh, sorry. Never seen it,” you say, matter-of-factly.
“No way.” He says incredulously. It swept the technical categories at the Oscars and earned over $2 billion at the box office, but fine. “The Last Sicario?”
“I know that one, I… I think I’ve seen clips of it. I’m so sorry.” You laugh nervously. 
“You can’t be serious…” He shakes his head, faking disbelief on his face. Javi is not an arrogant man, but the series made headlines because of who made it. It spawned endless heated debates about morality because he wrote it from his own firsthand past experience. He didn’t directly participate in his family’s shady business, but he was an attentive observer, and somewhat of an accomplice. People love it though, and it’s still going strong in its third season.
“We’re off to a bad start, are we?” You laugh. “Okay, what else?”
“Massive Talent?” Javi offers. 
Wait. It dawns on you and you feel embarrassed. After a few moments of recovery, you speak up. “You’re, um, the guy from that fa– Spain, aren’t you? Billionaire turned movie… mogul?”
“I guess you could say that.” He smiles shyly, not used to the moniker. “At least that’s one you know.”
“Okay, why don’t we start over. Hi,” you reintroduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. I’ll watch your movies.”
He chuckles. “Mucho gusto. I’m Javier Gutierrez, you can call me Javi. Óscar has told me about you.”
The movie isn’t the only thing you know about him now that you’ve realized who he is. You’re peripherally aware that this man in front of you frequents the Eligible Bachelors lists in recent years. Guest of a Guest, Tatler, Town & Country, everything else your friends regularly appear in have fawned over him… but you were too busy with your own life to pay attention to celebrity gossip. Except for the story that he’s a billionaire from Spain who invited the Nicolas Cage to his birthday party and they ended up making a movie about their time together. And the viral Fallon interview (that you haven’t properly watched except for Twitter clips-slash-memes) where he correctly guessed every single movie with only 3 seconds of clues. He looks slightly different now than you remember from glancing at his pictures in passing a few years ago. Aged, in a good way.
“I can see now that it’s fantastic casting in that movie. He looked just like you.”
“Younger, fitter…”
“No, totally perfect.” You flash him a grin, albeit nervously. “So, what’s next?”
“I’m still working on it.” He studies your face. “You? Any plans to write?”
“It’s not even a work in progress. I was doing it while I was traveling before moving here, and it’s hard.”
He nods. “Eventually divine inspiration will come. Just wait for it. Where did you go?”
“I went all over for a year. Europe, Asia, Australia, here… too many to count. More than 50 cities, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah. I never stayed in one place for more than a week. It was amazing.”
“I’m jealous. I haven’t been able to do that since… since I have a steady job, so to say. Where’s your favorite?”
“That… is tough.” You give it a thought for a few seconds before giving up. “I can’t, I’ll get back to you on that. Oh, I went to Madrid this year. Do you still live in Spain?”
“I still go back now and then, that’s about it. Have you been to Mallorca?”
“No, it looks gorgeous in pictures, though. I’d love to visit.”
“Let me know when you decide to go there. I’ll show you around.”
“O-okay.” You’re sure you are blushing hard now, you just hope it doesn’t obviously show on your face. This very gorgeous man, who probably lives on his own island in Mallorca, being your personal tour guide? Sign me the fuck up.
“How do you like New York?”
“I’m enjoying it so far. I can watch plays and musicals and whatever, whenever I want to. And I still haven’t been to all the museums here.”
“I do the same whenever I come here, soak up everything.”
“Are you here often?”
“Not as much as I used to. I usually stayed for months back when Óscar did theater.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m only here for the week before I have to go back to London. I live there now most of the time.”
“Oh, that’s really nice. I used to go there a lot.”
“Yeah? You’ll–”
“Great, we can skip the introductions.” Óscar enters the room with a mug on each hand, Ava following right behind him.
You rise to your feet and give him a hug. “Hey, Óscar.” 
Óscar tries to hug you back while balancing the drinks before he hands you one. Green tea, as usual. He takes a seat across from you while Ava sits next to Javi on the couch.
“How have you been? How are your parents?”
“Great! They’re off to some adventure somewhere, as always. Actually, I was just telling Javi about mine.”
“Where are you going next?” Ava asks.
“Not sure yet. Nothing comes to mind either, really.”
“We’re going to Tokyo next week for my premiere. Come with us,” Óscar suggests. 
“Ah, I don’t wanna intrude. Besides, I’m waiting for this one job interview…”
“Oh, yeah? What are you up to?”
“Some social media stuff. Nothing too exciting, to be honest.” You lean back on the chair, extending your legs. You feel Javi’s eyes raking in your form not so subtly. 
“Forget about it.” Óscar says so casually you think you must have misheard.
“What?”
“Forget it. I have something better for you. I’m directing a movie, Javi’s writing and producing, and I want you in it.”
You chuckle. “I’m not an actress, Óscar.”
“I know. But I’ve heard how you talk about movies. You have the knowledge and passion. And Javi here would have someone he could rant to. I’m sick of it.” Javi’s head whips towards him and he snickers. 
“That’s still not acting, though.”
“You can do it. You used to perform when you were a kid, remember?”
“Ballet recitals are hardly the same as what you do, Óscar.”
“You’ve got experience in performing. That’s enough for me.”
You look at the three of them nervously.
“Here’s the thing. You love movies, you didn’t enjoy your fashion job, otherwise why quit, right? And I think you’d have fun on a movie set.” You listen, silently agreeing with everything he’s saying. “You could network, at least. That could open doors for you. Do you still write?”
“I mean, it’s just a hobby…”
“So, just be on set and see how we work.”
“Can’t I just be on your crew, then? Why do I have to act?”
“It’s great for exposure being in front of the camera. You could get more opportunities that way.” Ava finally chimes in, reassuring you in a soft voice. “And, you’re too pretty to be just behind it.”
You’re not sure how to respond to that, but you hope you don’t look too embarrassingly awkward.
“It’s just a supporting role. Nothing demanding. If anything’s too much for you, we can always rewrite. Let me show you the script first, okay?”
Three pairs of eyes are looking at you expectantly now. “Uh. Okay, then. What’s it about?”
✧✧
THREE DAYS LATER
You’re preparing dinner with your friend Damien after an entire day out together when Óscar texts you an invite. A little get together, he says. You’ll only have to cross the street and walk for 5 minutes to the address he links you to, so you think, why not? It’s not like you have somewhere more important to be, and he says Javi will be there too. You don’t feel like cutting your time together with Damien short, but you want to see Javi’s face again too, so you ask Óscar if you could bring a plus one. To your surprise, Óscar immediately says yes without any question. You don’t know the host personally, but she’s apparently a good friend of his from back in college, and an actress too now. He wants to introduce you to his friends in the industry at the party to ease you in.  And if Damien’s going to make you feel more comfortable, so be it. 
You met Damien a few years ago through an ex and became fast friends. His good natured humor and happy-go-lucky approach in life contrast your more mellow and anxious one. The two of you continue to stay in touch even after your relationship ended, without it ever coming up in your conversations since. You don’t have many friends to begin with, and you could use a male perspective sometimes. So here he is, sitting on the couch in your bedroom as you finally walk out of your massive walk-in closet after 4 different outfit changes.
“Is this okay?” You ask him.
“It’s literally snowing outside.”
“And?”
“Sooooo what the hell are you wearing?”
“I have nothing that makes me look sexy but still warm, and it’s pretty close, so I could just wear my coat for the walk, and then we’re gonna be indoors anyway…”
“Sexy? For what? Isn’t he like your uncle?” Damien scrunches his nose in disgust. “And don’t ask for my jacket if you need it. When you need it.” He knows you too well.
“Not for Óscar, you gross. Okay. Five more minutes.”
You finally settle for a black Galvan jumpsuit with a slightly plunging bodice, a Saint Laurent shearling leather jacket, and a pair of Gucci mules for your safety. You immediately feel the warmth and comfort upon walking into the Victorian-style apartment. The owner and host, a short red-haired woman named Mira, takes you under her wing and introduces you around to everyone. At one point you lose Damien to a group of guys, deep in conversation about an upcoming hockey game.
Almost an hour later, when you can’t keep track of names and faces anymore no matter how famous they are, you find yourself in the kitchen. You’re in front of the refrigerator looking for a drink when a velvety voice behind you says, “There you are.”
Surprised, you look over your shoulder to Javi leaning on the kitchen counter with a bottle of beer in hand. He’s wearing a white henley shirt with the top buttons opened and his hair slicked back. You feel yourself involuntarily clench at the sight, and what a sight it is. You’ve been catching yourself thinking about him in the past three days since you last saw him, which takes you by surprise every time. He is your type after all… tall, dark, very handsome… except... You know he’s a lot older, that much is clear, but you don’t dare to look up his actual age. Save yourself the embarrassment of developing a crush on your uncle figure’s close friend. Crush??? No, you say to yourself. He’s just very attractive. Anyone could see that.
“I thought you and Óscar bailed and left me to the sharks here.” 
“Pfft. We were just having a smoke on the balcony. What are you looking for?”
“Anything but alcohol or water… oh, look. There’s strawberry milk.”
Javi chuckles. “What, not old enough to drink?” he asks, some of the humor disappears from his eyes as he sips his beer. 
“I drink just fine, actually!” You say sarcastically, finally finding a can of Coke in the back. You stand up next to him, pouring the contents into a glass. “Maybe too much.”
“How are you doing?” He moves closer to you. Oh, he smells very good.
“Fine, I guess,” you shrug. “You?”
“Same.”
“Wh–” “I’ve–” Javi blurts at the same time as you do.
“Where’s your date?” Javi asks you carefully.
“My date?” You snicker and nod to where Damien’s now playing pool with the same dudes. “I think those guys over there are holding him captive. They were talking about hockey or something.”
“Is he a player?”
“Hockey? No. He used to play football, got injured, and… yep.”
“Hmm.” Javi gets quiet for a moment as you dash a lime over your drink.
“What?” You glance at him.
“Nothing.” Javi clears his throat. “Where’d you guys meet?”
“Us? Well… I was dating his close friend.”
Javi lets out a comically dramatic gasp. “Now you’re with him?”
“What? No! Wait, you think we’re dating?! Ew!” You give Javi a disgusted look as he looks confused. “No, we’re just friends. I don’t know how but we just stayed friends after.”
“Oh… When Óscar said you’re bringing someone, I thought…”
“Yeah, most people think we are too. But no. I was hanging out with him when Óscar texted me. I felt bad, so… now here we are. Where’s yours?”
“No, it’s… nah.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that. I just thought you’d say she’d be at home with the kids, like Ava is right now.” You’d looked him up on Instagram on the way home from Óscar’s, where you noticed his latest post of him in between two toddlers from the back. You’d also noticed that it didn’t take long for him to follow you back, as in mere seconds. 
“…what?!” Javi exclaims, his turn to look completely shocked now. 
“Your wife, or… I don’t know.” Javi is full on laughing at you now. “What? Oh my god, what?”
“What makes you think I’m married?”
“Well, I don’t know, your Instagram picture—”
“Those are my nephew and niece.”
“Oh! I see,” you say, looking down at your drink, embarrassed. “So we’re off to a weird start again, huh.”
“No wife, no girlfriend, no kids,” he says once he stops wheezing.
This is certainly interesting, you think, as he flashes you a brilliant half smirk. You do remember him being lauded as the most eligible bachelor a few years ago, but things could change pretty fast. And it’s not unheard of for billionaires/A-listers like Javi to secretly have a family somewhere… you’re glad that’s out of the way. But why do you care, hm?
“So, where do you go for drinks, usually?” Javi unabashedly looks into your eyes now.
“Wherever my friends want to go. Lots of small jazz bars these days. They’re pretty cool.”
“Uh huh. So no one would mind if I… if we go out for drinks sometime?” Your heart races a million times per second but to your dismay, he catches himself and clears his throat. “To talk about work, of course.”
“No, of course.” You bite your lip. You wouldn’t mind if he asked you not for work, but let’s be realistic here. He’s your boss now, technically. That’d be inappropriate.
“That’s good.” Javi’s smile widens and you drink to hide your disappointment. Snap out of your daydreams, you remind yourself.
✧✧
You’re woken up in the afternoon by your phone’s non stop pings. You’re still adjusting your eyes to the sunlight seeping in through the curtains and stretching your body and the stream of notifications doesn’t slow down. Grabbing it from your nightstand, you begin to read.
25 messages from your friend Anya 3 from a private number 1 from an unsaved UK number 5 DM requests, 3 new follows, and 2 tagged pictures on Instagram
Not wanting to start conversations yet, despite your grogginess you decide to go for a swim. On the way to your pool, you see Damien in your gym on the Peloton. Why is he here? You don't remember him staying over last night. Not that you ever mind, but you simply can’t remember. 
“Hey.” You slide open the glass door to greet him. “Have you been up long?”
“Sorry. I’ll reset this later,” he says. He knows that you’d said to never mess with your bike setup, but he really needs to get that workout in. “Like an hour or two ago. You?”
“Just now. Thought I’d swim to wake up. My head fucking hurts.”
“No shit. You drank like it was a frat party.”
Oh. So I ended up drinking, that’s why. “Come on. I don’t wanna swim alone.”
You’re floating on your back while Damien slurps a green juice poolside, already tired from his third workout of the day.
“How much did I drink last night?”
Damien shrugs. “I don’t remember how much I had either, so.”
You only remember staying at the party until there were only a handful of people left, at Óscar’s request. He introduced you to his Forces co-stars who were about your age, then to a blonde actress and current it girl named Elise who you’re used to seeing… everywhere and everyday online. Apparently she’s going to play the lead in Óscar and Javi’s movie. 
“But we were fine walking home?”
“No, Óscar and uh… Javi? Burt Reynolds look alike? They drove us back.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” You feel mortified that they saw you in a state that you are not proud of right now, but at least you got home safe.
“Is he still coming today?”
“...who?”
Damien chuckled at you. “Javi. Is he still coming today?”
“What are you talking about?” You splash towards the edge and get up, frantically drying your hands to unlock your phone. The private number had to be his.
“I’ll be there at 4”, says the first text, received two hours ago. Then a picture of a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. Then “on my way”, less than an hour ago. 
“He’s… on the way.” It’s already almost 4. 
“Damn, you really were wasted,” Damien tsk’s.
You dry the rest of your body off while quickly typing a reply: “Can’t wait!” You open the rest of your notifications to see if there are more surprises waiting. The UK number is Óscar’s Forces co-star telling you how nice it was to meet you and that she couldn’t wait to see you again in Tokyo next week. So you guess you had agreed to go and have to start planning your travels. Elise tagged you on Instagram, a picture of you sandwiched in between Javi and Óscar. You remember wrapping your arms around Óscar when Javi photobombed you, his face buried into your hair. You can still recall his cinnamon and cigarette scent. 
More of your memories surface once you scroll through pictures from last night. You and Javi were checking out Mira’s jukebox when you told him that you have no idea how to set up yours. Mira said Óscar gave it to her as a housewarming gift; you share that in common with her. Javi immediately offered to set it up for you, and then Óscar made fun of him for fucking up a car audio setup years and years ago. Javi pointed to one of the plates inside and asked if you’ve ever listened to Fleetwood Mac. “Just the Rumours album,” you told him. “I don’t have it, though.”
You remember struggling to zip up your jacket before Javi’s warm hands with long and thick fingers helped you, cackling when he said something about your fuzzy shoes (“they look like that politician’s hair”), passing out on the leather backseat of a very comfortable car… 
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Javi slams the car door shut as he settles in on the passenger seat next to Óscar.
“She got up safe?”
“Yeah, all good.”
“She’s not usually like this. She wouldn’t be like this while working, I promise you that.”
Javi shrugs. “I’m not worried about that. We weren’t any better back then either.”
“We’ll send her the contract, then.” Óscar smiles satisfyingly. 
“No need. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow.”
There’s a brief pause before Óscar speaks up again. “So… I know that you like to get close with the actresses–”
Javi’s demeanor changes entirely. “Okay, and? What are you accusing me of?” He never did anything without their consent (Javi makes sure of that 100%), and never when they’re actively working together. But no one needs to know the details, except him and his… participants.
Óscar’s taken aback by Javi’s sudden defensiveness. “Whoa, chill out, I’m not accusing anything.”
“We go to events together, maybe dinner. With their enthusiasm,” Javi states curtly. 
“That’s all, really? Come on, man to man,” Óscar is teasing him now. It’s amusing seeing Javi pissed off, it’s a rare occurrence. Óscar knows he’s not slimy, and it’s not like he never had his own share of fun before settling down. 
Javi rolls his eyes instead of giving a verbal answer. Whatever.
“Don’t bring her into it, not that I think you would, is what I was going to say. Just do Elise.” Óscar says calmly. “I appreciate you making friends with her. That’s all.”
He doesn’t want to do Elise, but whatever. It’s not like he’s interested in you like that… isn’t he? “Yeah. Sure.”
“I promised her parents I’d take care of her. Would appreciate your help.” 
Not my problem.
Javi replays the conversation he had with Óscar last night after he dropped you off. Usually it had to take so much more to get under his skin, but his questioning bugged Javi. Is it wrong to have fun when the world is his oyster? When everyone involved are adults who know what they’re doing? It’s not exactly unprofessional… he doesn’t do it on the job. And really, half the time it was purely platonic. Sometimes he just needed a friend to go as his arm candy. What else should he do, hire an escort? Such a fuss having to worry about discretion when he knows people he could trust, people already familiar with the industry.
And the other half… Well, it wasn’t always his proposition either, it’s a modern world where women can also do whatever they want, with whoever they want. You included. But would you want that, with him? Javi’s aware he’s out of your league, and not only that, he begrudgingly admits to himself that Óscar has a good point after all. He’s a nice, responsible, respectable guy. From his best friend’s perspective, it’s unthinkable.
But he knows now that he likes looking at you, talking to you. And he doesn’t want to only interact with you within the confines of work. Is this work, like he told Óscar? He doesn’t think so. But no one has to know.
You’re on your back on the carpet, silently humming the tune of Songbird. You’re bliss personified, and he can’t help but to smile at the scene: your closed eyes, the content look on your face, your feet softly tapping to the beat, and the pink sunset washing down on you through the glass roof-slash-window of your sunroom. He has to admit - it’s impressive, and he���s envious. A floor-to-ceiling glass-covered corner taking up ⅓ of your apartment, it has a massive TV, a projector, the jukebox he offered to set up, a shelf filled with books on the left side of the door and another filled with movies on the right side. A huge velvet pink couch takes up the space, and there’s a small sliding part of the glass ceiling that could open to allow you fresh air when you need it. You told him that you would just lay here on rainy days, finding the pitter patter calming to your ears. 
“Wow.” Javi gapes in wonder when he walks in.
“Yeah. It’s the centerpiece, this whole thing.”
“I didn’t know something like this could exist here. Wow.”
“Me neither. And you can see the entire park from here too. And the lights from Times Square if you’re on your tiptoes.”
His eyes scan every direction, taking in the view. Seeing the small rack of vinyl on the floor, he asks, “Who’s your favorite?”
“Taylor Swift.”
“No, seriously.”
“I’m serious.”
Javi silently looks at you as he takes in this information. Okay, that actually makes sense. You’re in that age range. Maybe it’s him who’s too old and out of touch. “Fine, who else?”
“Joni Mitchell. I discovered Blue a few months ago and I’m obsessed.” You sit down on the couch and grab a pillow to your chest, fingers playing with the tassels.
“Really? I thought you kids just stick to your own decade.”
“No! And, I’ve told you I like jazz too. I love the nostalgic feel, I think. The idea of it at least.” 
“So… pop, folk, and jazz. Didn’t expect that.” 
“How about you then, Mr. Oldie?”
“Watch who you’re calling old.” Javi jokingly warns as he squats and rifles through the stack. Not much yet, and he’s mentally taking note to buy you more.
“You are,” you say with a teasing smile.
“Guns n’ Roses. Elton John. ABBA. Prince. That’s my ultimate.”
“November Rain, yes.” You wrack your brain. “I love ABBA and Elton, but I’ve never heard of that last one. Prince?”
“Are you kidding me?!” Javi sounds legitimately surprised and offended. “Purple Rain?!”
“Nooooope. Sorry, Oldie.”
“I’m gonna get you his albums. You have to listen to him.”
You snicker. You find his exasperation funny. You don’t think someone could be so passionate about anyone having not heard their favorite artist. “Thanks, and… sure, if you’ll listen to Taylor Swift too.”
“I’m not into pop.” Javi scoffs as he gets to work. 
“ABBA is pop.”
“It’s different.”
“She’s also country and folk-ish, trust me, I’ll make you a playlist. You’re so missing out.”
Javi sighs at you in defeat, but gladly so. Whatever makes you happy.
You change the song and close your eyes again as you hum along to the song. “Baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name…” The sky is quickly getting darker now and neither of you has bothered to turn on the lights, so it’s only him, you, the sparkling lights of the city, and the soft flicker of a scented candle. You look so beautiful in the twilight and your silk robe and he wants to– 
You turn to him. “Are you bored?”
There’s a beat until Javi registers that you asked him a question. “No. No, just… enjoying it. This one’s nice.”
“I told you.” You smile. 
“Are you gonna play me the whole record?”
“Hmm, no. Aren’t you in a rush? And this isn’t really my favorite. Just thought it fits the scene… New York and all. Who even says ‘record’ anymore?” You tease him again. 
He doesn’t bother to come up with a comeback for that. You change the song to something jazzy about worshiping the altar of your hips, and he just stares, and stares, and stares… he thinks about your laugh at your own ignorance of him when you first met. Of you stretching your legs on that lounge chair. He was almost sure that Ava caught him staring. Your turtleneck that made your chest look full. Your enticing lips that you like biting in nervousness. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spend that night scrolling your Instagram feed just to ogle you. He couldn’t possibly make a move now after what Óscar said to him in the car last night, it’d be too obvious to Óscar and not to mention disrespectful, but he could enjoy looking at you in every kind of outfit that makes you look even more gorgeous (even in a silly snowsuit) whenever he wants and no one would have to know.
After he went home last night he kept thinking of your tight outfit and how it showed off the outline of your figure. He almost lost his composure when you bent over the kitchen island and he got an eyeful of your behind. Your elegant neck and cleavage were on full display to him when you tossed your hair over your shoulder, and he didn’t think he even had the decency to look away. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t try to find the guy that you were with on your profile, just to figure out your type… to no success. You must have scrubbed him clean. As he deserves. 
In just a few short days, he could certainly say that his life has changed. Nothing prepared him for you to literally walk into his life. For the first time in years, he feels nervous talking to someone. One of the reasons being you’re practically half his age, and that’s uncharted territory for him. He’s gone for younger, but not this much younger. Would you find him too old and gross? Or worse, creepy? He likes to think no. You don’t seem like you’re bothered by any of it… so far. If anything, he’s almost certain you checked him out too last night, and a few times today… or maybe his aging mind is just playing tricks on him to make him feel better and less desperate. That, or the alcohol.
An hour passes by, the room now in almost total darkness, as you both quietly listen to Joni’s croons and your occasional hums. He feels a tap on his foot by the end of a Christmas carol rendition that brings him out of his thoughts to you mouthing that this is it, your favorite. He can’t help but notice that you have a faraway look in your eyes as you stare up at the glass ceiling, perhaps tinged with longing, throughout the song. Just right after it’s finished, you sit up and turn it off.
Javi waits for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “How about we order some food, and watch a movie?”
You smile. “Javi, you’re gonna miss your plane.”
✧✧✧
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Supernatural x Twilight~
(Jasper multi shot)
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Since I joined the Winchesters I've noticed that most of the monster fighting lands on Thursday's and I brought it up to the brothers. Sam being the smart one who was well read and knew most of the lore, began to laugh leaving me and dean confused.
"Shit! She's right?" Dean said but instead of laughing like his brother his face looked like he was having an existential crisis. "Sammy, why you laughing?"
"Castiel, Angel of the lord and Angel of thursdays." Sam said bluntly pointing his thumb at the Trenchcoat wearing Angel.
Dean rubbed his mouth before grinning as well.
I turned to the ever present Angel. "So it's your fault!" I said sarcastically.
Castiel blinked rapidly before bowing his head a little. "I'm sorry." He apologized.
"No, no, Cas! Sarcasm! I'm being sarcastic— I don't actually blame you." I spoke rapidly to the Angel while waving my hands rapidly.
"I know." Castiel said and smiled mischievously. Dean bumped the angels shoulder and snorted.
"Your a punk!" I said while getting up to get another round of beers from the fridge.
"Hey, only punk here is you kid. Still look like your 16 going on 17." Dean teased me because I was the youngest of our little hunter group. Cas being a whopping billion years old and Dean going on 32 and Sam on 28. I'm only 21, but I still look like some bright eyed teen getting ready for Highschool. Helpful on cases with children and teens because they were more likely to talk to me and monsters underestimate my age. But it makes it really hard to pose as a fbi agent or go to bars looking so young.
"Hardy har-har old man." I tease back. Easily popping the seals on the beer before handing them to their respective owner.
"I'm not that old." Dean grumbled but smiled anyway knowing I was joking.
Just like every Thursday, we were once again on another monster hunt.
"You know this is great, fighting on Thursday's. Because then we always get a nice three day weekend between cases." I say between killing another monster.
"Oh yeah nice for you! I'm the one who has to drive us to the next case. And you sit in the back snuggled up to my Angel, sleeping." Dean argues, ducking under a monster's arm.
"I offered to drive!" I say laughing as I block another hit.
"Nuuh no way in any hell I'm letting you drive baby after what you did to that stolen car!" Dean shouts back.
"I was running over a werewolf!!" I defend.
"Guys! Less fighting, more fighting!" Sam says from the left trying to hold off his own monster.
I rush to his aid and decapitate his monster. I wink while handing him a machete he dropped and run back into the fray. "If your so bothered, me sleeping with your Angel. Why doesn't he sit in your lap while you drive or would that be too distracting for you!" I tease at dean while twirling out of the way of another monster.
"Marcella!!" Dean said scandalized and was almost hit by his monster before killing it.
All the monsters were killed and we began dragging them to make a fire pile. "How the hell you two have a conversation between fighting is beyond me." Sam says while throwing another body on the pile.
Dean slings his arm around my shoulder. "It's a talent." He says proudly.
I shove his arm off and smile. "It's telepathy." I joke.
We stand around the burning pile and continue to talk. We walk back to the impala and are greeted by Cas asking if the hunt went well.
I blink and instead of standing in knee high grass I stumble on an ansphalt road. I look around, expecting to see Sam, Dean or Cas and met with crickets. I take in my surroundings more before reaching for my phone out of my back pocket. The phone has no service so I begin to walk down the stretch of road in what I hopes toward civilization. I pass a sign that says:
"The city of Forks, Washington. Welcomes you."
I continued to walk down the barren road until arriving at a little town. I found the nearest pay phone and began dialing every number I recall the Winchesters using, even calling Castiel's phone.
"I'm sorry but the number your calling cannot be reached." A dial tone responded.
I hung up in aggravation before moving to the nearest motel and checking in for the night. I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands.
It could be Crowley playing another game. It's not the first time I've been zapped somewhere else or kidnapped. Even Lucifer has had his chance to fuck around.
This isn't heaven. Because I may have never been but even I know my heaven wouldn't be some rando town in the middle of Washington. And it's not hell, Dean told me some of what hell is. And based on my lack of torture...
Did I really just get dropped off in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason?
The next day I walked around town and was confronted by an officer. I read his name tag and it said Chief Swan. What surprised me was when he spoke, to summarize he scolded me for playing hooky and then gave me a ride to the local Highschool. He even asked if I was from the reservation to which I shook my head no. He dropped me off and pointed me inside, not leaving until I entered the building.
For a moment, while I was riding in the back of the cop car, I considered using a fake ID on him to make him leave me alone but decided against it. Who knows how I got here or when I can get back to the guys. So for now, I wait for my captor/kidnapper reveals themself. Until then I guess I lay low until Sam and Dean get my messages.
It was much harder than I thought to lay low. I had only been in the building for twenty minutes and was already turning heads. Was it the oversized flannel I stole from Sam or the clunky boots that could crush skulls. Maybe it was my posture, and the way I kept my hand on my knife in my pocket. It could have been any of those but 95% of the student body population avoided me for the first hour.
I had been dropped off so late in the day that by then it was lunch. I followed the overbearing noise with gritted teeth and got food before sitting. Apparently 'avoid the newbie' was over as a boy and two girls walked over to me.
A brown haired girl with a preppy attitude and a black haired girl that seemed more nerdy. The boy was black haired and also nerdy.
"Hi, I'm Jessica and this is Angela. Your the new kid right?" The brown haired girl said.
"And I'm eric, the eyes and ears of this place! And there if you need a shoulder to cry on." The boy flirts and my lip lifts in a snarl, even when Dean jokingly flirts he does a better job.
Being around new people in an environment I didn't like was putting me on edge, so my response may have come out harsher than I'd liked. "That's cute did you find that pickup line in a Tween magazine?" I bit my tongue to keep from being overly aggressive any further. "I'd like to eat my lunch in peace."
"What the hell! He was jsut trying to be polite!" Jessica screeched and I held my ear in exaggeration.
"Woah lotta lungs on you, prep." I said grouchily while resting my head on my elbow before going back to picking my food while flipping my knife open and closed under the table.
Chuck do I wish the Winchesters were here! I closed my eyes before remembering what Dean told me. "Treat the situation like your on a case, you can't outwardly be stressed, you need to be calm and collected. Look at it from all angles until it works. Play along and blend in."
I grit my teeth but I did what he said. Running my hand down my face I exaggerated my breath, my lip wobbled and eyes watered into a pitiful expression.
"I'm sorry, yeah I'm the—the new kid. I'm sorry it's." I crossed my arms tightly and looked away while my eyes watered more. "My uh parents recently died and I've been having a hard time not lashing out at people." I wiped my eyes and looked toward Angelica and Eric who would be easy to sway. "It's been hard I mean it was only last week and then I got dropped off half way cross country where I don't know anybody. It just sucks." I whimpered pulling on my young appearance so that I looked more innocent.
Angela's eyes widened before she quickly sat beside me and pulled me into a hug. "Oh my god that's horrible, are you okay?"
At the same time Angela asked if I was okay, Jessica also asked what happened.
Bulshitting the first lie I could think up I ducked my head like I was scared. "It was a hunting accident, we were hiking and some hunters had too many beers they started shooting as us. My dad covered me and mom but she was already dead." I whispered in a wobbly voice. Angela hugged me tighter and began consoling me.
I inwardly smiled and mocked Dean because again my youthful appearance and brilliant acting have saved my life. Whatcha got on that old man!
I would like to say I survived the first two weeks. I smiled so much my face hurt when all I wanted to do was snarl at people. I was integrated into Jessica's friend group and met other people. Classes were spent reciting rock songs that Dean would play in the impala while I tried not to bang my head on the table. The hardest part was I would read something I didn't understand and turn to ask Sam and he not be there.
And I know it sounds strange to miss the Winchesters so much but they're family. Since Dean got out of hell I had seen them off and on for cases until eventually we just combined forces. For the last four years it had been me and the Winchesters, saving people, hunting things, the family business.
I missed cas just as much. We would watch movies and shows and gang up on Dean singing pop songs in the car. Sometimes when I was really aggravated I would mentally replay Cas and me singing lollipop while we chased Dean until he bought us ice cream. It's my goal to make the Angel try every flavor.
I clenched my hand around my phone; it had rarely left my hand other than to charge. They should've called back by now, they should've found me or something. I may be a hunter and I've been on my own for some time before permanently joining them, but there was no way in hell or purgatory I would be crossing the country without some kind of idea where they are. I tapped my foot in aggravation while watching the clock. It's moving to slow I thought before leaving the classroom and ignoring the teacher yelling.
I slammed into the bathroom and quickly began dialing Dean first.
"The number your calling is unavailable or turned off." The robotic voice said and I growled.
Okay try Sam—"the number you are calling is unavailable or turned off."
I even tried Bobby and got the same message. I had called every number, every day for the last two weeks, always expecting a different result. I turned to the wall behind me and punched it in anger. My knuckles popped but did not split open despite the force. I'd expect they being turning purple by the time I get back to class.
Before I could punch the wall more or call another number, the bell rang and signaled lunch. I turned and threw one last punch at the wall before walking to the lunchroom. Mask back on place to be the person my "friends" expect.
"Howdy doody." I say as I sit beside Angela and across from Bella, the chiefs daughter.
"Hey Marcella!" Eric cheered and hugged my side before sitting next to me. "How was math?"
"Bite me, Yorkie." I hiss but play off my tone with a smile. He smiles back and bumps my shoulder.
Mid way through lunch someone finally notices my purple knuckles, unfortunately it's bella who is the most awkward person I've had the displeasure of meeting.
"What's wrong with your hand?" She asks, reaching out to touch the blooming colors.
"Got in a row with a vending machine." I joke but everyone is now looking at my hand and it makes my hand clench. "Really it's nothing, done worse." I shrug my shoulders and put my hand in my pocket.
After school when everyone is moving to leave the building I exit with Angela. Screeching tires fill the air and I turn to see a truck sliding on the ice about to hit Bella before a fast moving blur stops it with his bare hands and saves her.
"Motherfucker." I curse in disbelief. The scene rings so clearly in my head that it continues to replay on repeat while I slip away from the crowds and toward the back of the building mumbling about fucking fangers and twilight zone.
I stand against the back of the building and call the Winchesters numbers again with repeatedly no luck. "Trapped in this dead ass town with a nest of Vamps! And no fucking backup!!" I curse loudly while slamming my boot into the brick wall until it begins breaking from repeated abuse. "Son of a Bitch!" I shout into the empty air. I lay my forehead against the brick wall and control my breathing, switching to what Dean has often called my hunter mode.
Sam has told me once it's an unconscious decision. A survival instinct I built from being alone so often before I met them. Just one of those things I didn't kick when I went domestic, as domestic as a hunter gets. Eg having a home base and a bed every couple nights, having a makeshift family.
The next day, everyone gossips about the chiefs daughter almost being killed in the parking lot. Bella is fine of course. Coming back to school like nothing happened and the Cullen mysteriously leave because it's sunny. There's gossip about that too and for once I'm paying attention to gather every clue possible.
"So, what, you got like a crush on one of them." Jessica teases.
My lip lifts into a smirk. "I'm not into-" necrophilia- "brown eyes." I respond while taking a bite of my burger. Chuck, even dean wouldn't eat this shit they call burgers. I jokingly think but continue to eat it as it's the only meal I get free. "They're all yours Jess. Ogle them all you like I don't want none of it." I say out loud. "I'm done eating see you guys later."
For the next week I write every little detail I can remember from Dean telling me about the movies. He says he only watched them because this chick wanted to. Like I believed that.
So far I had accumulated a basic premise, the chiefs daughter falls madly in love with Edward. I'm pretty sure Rosalie and the tall big one are dating. Theres something going on at the Reservation. There might be vampire royalty. Is that like the alpha vampire? There was a war with other Vamps. There was a red head bitch, why is it always redheads?
When the Cullens do come back I pay close attention to them. I'm not the only one either, Bella carefully watches every day for a sign of Edward but he did not return with his family. He only shows up again a week later, making effort to befriend Bella.
In the middle of history I begin writing a list of things to do. I feel eyes on me as they watch my every move and act normally. I write my list using code words I had come up with.
Period supplies:
Tampons (machete)
Juice (dead man's blood)
Fruit loops (rope)
Meet the fawkers (find the Cullen coven leader)
I look up from my list and meet honey golden eyes, I find myself loosing thought as I'm drawn in. What clears my mind is when I watch them shift and darken and I examine the person as a whole. Jasper Whitlock-Hale, the Cullen in pain as the gossip goes. I grit my teeth and my eyes sharpen as we continue to stare at each other, he becomes the first to look away.
I Look down at my list and decide there is no time like the present and leave the class, regardless of the teacher protesting. I stalk the itinerary office and when the lady leaves I sneak in and skim the Cullen files.
Father: Carlisle Cullen
Occupation: Doctor at ####
His wife's name being Esme Cullen and she holds no current job beside interior decorating. Moved to forks Washington from Alaska.
I write the phone numbers on the back of my hand and slip out the office unnoticed before driving to a pawnshop on the reservation. Buying two machete and rope, I'd rather not break into a morgue.
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retro-memo · 1 year
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I posted 1,749 times in 2022
42 posts created (2%)
1,707 posts reblogged (98%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@winter-turtle
@joyful-soul-collector
@superherotiger
@kitcat992
@milstrim
I tagged 354 of my posts in 2022
#nwh spoilers - 18 posts
#peter parker - 18 posts
#sky children of the light - 18 posts
#tony stark - 16 posts
#irondad and spiderson - 14 posts
#irondad - 12 posts
#sobbing - 10 posts
#ask game - 10 posts
#sky cotl - 9 posts
#thatskygame - 8 posts
Longest Tag: 136 characters
#if they aren't dating by the 3rd movie i'm gonna call sonic to be that one friend that pushes these two idiots together so they can kiss
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
i know your url is probably pronounced memo as in memory but i keep reading it as mee-mo and i can't stop help
Omg, now that's stuck in my head 😭 I'll never look at my url the same ever again
14 notes - Posted June 9, 2022
#4
All of your prompts seem so cool 🥺 the "oops ? What do you mean oops ?" seems super fun if you feel up to writing it 😁
Well, I'm finally answering this... almost a year later. I'm so sorry for that, I didn't ignore any of the asks in my inbox, I just forgot about 'em. Sorta. Anyways, the good news is that I plan to finally start emptying my inbox. Honestly, these prompts have been sitting there for way too long.
While this doesn't exactly start with the sentence that was given, it does use it. Kinda. Let's just get started.
Also, special thanks to @winter-turtle for giving me inspiration for this fic!!💜 💜
“Kid, what are you doing here?” It wasn't the first time Tony had caught Peter sneaking into the Compound. In fact, on more than several occasions he’d woken up in the mornings to find the kid raiding his kitchen and being a fire hazard to society by trying to bake a dish that vaguely resembled something out of a mad scientist horror film.
Tony refused to call anything Peter cooked food. The kid was worse than his aunt when he was near a stove.
Said kid who had his back turned to Tony, jumped, spinning around to stare at Tony with eyes blown so wide they almost seemed to swallow his entire face. He looked like the exact definition of a child being caught red-handed with their grubby fingers halfway into the cookie jar.
Not only that but for the first time since the kid got here, Tony noticed that he was, in fact, not wearing one of his infamous nerdy science pun t-shirts that were part of his usual civilian attire but instead, was in his Spider-Man suit.
That wasn’t even the weirdest part.
Tony felt his eyebrows shoot up well past his hairline as he took in the kid. More specifically, what was sitting snugly in Peter's arms as if it had every right to be and not sending him through another stage of existential crisis. “What the fuck is that?”
His death was going to be caused by his disaster-on-two-legs kid. Tony knew it. He was going to keel over from the stress one of these days. It was the only way to go out.
“A turtle?” If it was any other time, Tony would’ve probably asked the kid if that was a question or statement but instead, couldn’t help the borderline hysterical laugh that escaped him.
Gods, aliens, genocidal maniacs, hydra soldiers - he thought it would always be one of the former or some fucked up ‘sacrifice himself for the greater good of the universe’ bullshit that was going to get him killed him but nope.
“Uh, yeah, I can see that, kiddo.” Tony waved his arm out, probably trying to gesture to the sheer ridiculousness of the situation “I mean, why the fuck did you bring it here?”
“Oops?” The kid’s shoulder’s bunched up to his ears in what Tony had to guess was some sort of half-shrug.
“Oops?” Tony tried not to sound like less of a madman but that was a feat in itself, especially whenever Peter was involved. The kid was trouble walking around with ’kick me’ written on the back of his shirt with disaster not too far behind him. Sure, Tony kinda knew that things weren’t ever going to be the same again after the whole Vulture and plane crashing incident. He expected a few supervillains here and there, maybe a stab wound but still.
He never planned for a whole goddamn turtle. “What do you mean oops? This isn’t an ‘oops’, Parker! Start talking!”
The kid’s lips thinned as he pressed them together, obviously not planning on spilling the beans on why he brought a turtle into the Compound. Okay, that was fine, it was fine. Two could play it that game and if Peter wasn’t going to come clean, Tony was just going to have to use the ace up his sleeve. “Alright, fine, if you won’t talk to me, I’m just going to call May.”
Tony already had his phone out in the open when it happened. Maybe later, a part of him would’ve wondered why he didn’t expect the kid to put up some sort of rebellion. Still, it’s not everyday when one’s phone suddenly disappeared from their hand.
“Did you just web my phone from me?!” Tony looked up from his now empty hand to where the kid was standing, whose eyes had somehow blown even wider than they were before while said stolen device sat perfectly in his free hand while the other was still holding up the turtle in what was clearly a feat against all known human possibilities.
Right. Sticky powers. Gotta love ‘em.
“No, uh, yes, I mean-” On any other day, Tony would’ve found the kid’s ability to stumble over his own words adorable, endearing even. “I can explain!”
Today, however, wasn’t one of those days.
It wasn’t that he minded the kid’s company, in fact, on a good day he enjoyed having the bubbling ball of energy to bounce science off of in the lab or when they binged any sci-fi movie they could get their hands on until they both passed out on the couch.
Except, after being forced to sit through a couple dozen meetings courtesy of one scary-and-should-definitely-not-be-teaming-up-with-May-Parker and soon-to-be-wife, Pepper Potts, Tony was not in the mood to deal with the kid’s babbling.
“Then please, explain.”
“I mean, it wasn’t my fault!” Ah yes, the sinner’s plea. “Well, it is. Sorta but I couldn’t just leave him there!” There we go.
“You know what?” Tony raised his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t actually want to know. Just please, tell me why you bring it here to all places?”
“Donatello isn’t an it.”
Tony did a double-take at that. “You’ve named it?”
See the full post
48 notes - Posted March 3, 2022
#3
Three people who I don't want to see in the irondad tags here on Tumblr:
Anti-irondad: This speaks for itself, you don't like irondad or Tony Stark? Fine, but don't tag your crap as irondad then, tag it as anti-irondad or anti-tony stark. I don't want to see your shit when I'm looking for wholesome content of my comfort characters.
St*rkers: I think this speaks for itself.
Anti-Ned Leeds: No. You don't go hating on my baby. Especially in one of my favorite tags. You can take your edgy reddit ass out of there and go bitch somewhere else. YOU DON'T PUT IT IN THE IRONDAD TAG SECTION. FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS HOLY.
I don't appreciate hate on Ned, of any kind. You don't like him? I don't care, keep it to yourself and out of my favorite tags.
Rant over.
122 notes - Posted June 1, 2022
#2
So, you remember this picture of Tony and Peter in Endgame?
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And we know thanks to the latest extra scene of No Way Home, all pictures of Peter are altered or changed. Which also would include this picture and now no one can see Peter with Tony anymore :)
150 notes - Posted September 19, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Help.
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1,001 notes - Posted June 15, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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hikarry · 29 days
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Do you believe in any religion?
You've said you've got religious trauma, but did that pull you away from all religions?
Eh, not really. Not in any organized religion, at least
I was stuck between Catholic Christianity and evangelical Christianity for all my childhood up until I was 19. My father forced me to complete all the Catholic rituals, and my grandparents took me to evangelical church up until I was 15, I believe. And, believe me, I was a very devoted Christian overall.
I was scared of God. I didn't listen to worldly music or read worldly books. I dressed modestly. I never swore. Homosexuality was disgusting and a sin. Every time I was left alone, I thought Jesus was coming, and everyone that was good was raptured, and I was left behind - I had many panic attacks on the account of that.
I think the spell broke when I actually started to sit down and read the Bible from beginning to end. Some stuff didn't match up or didn't make sense altogether, so I started writing notes. God, I wrote so many notes. Then I discovered other religions and how most religions are the same thing just in a different color and, yeah. Then I found out I was gay. Had a bit of an existential crisis. But the card castle finally fell
Currently, I don't believe in any God or supernatural entity that looks after and has power over us
I don't believe in any type of magic be it witchy or miracles or any other kind
Truth be told, I'm still figuring out what I believe in
It's not that I believe, but I trust that the universe has my back. I trust there's surface above the water. I trust that everything will work out in the end somehow
Could that be considered fate? I'm not completely sure. I don't believe that our life is written, but I do believe there are forces trying to keep us afloat. Energies
This might sounds silly but I believe in vibes a lot. Or call it gut feeling, whatever. I've learned to trust it and it ain't never failed me so far
I think the only concept religion wise that I believe is karma (is that hindu? Buddhism?) And only because I've seen it act with my two lil eyes
Apart from that? Eh. I study religions both for fun and professionally, so maybe that made me too detached to be able to blindly follow something that truth be told is not based on logic
The most illogical I allow myself to be is trusting in the universe
Fun fact: when I was 12 I was dead for 2 minutes whilst in surgery. I didn't have an outer body experience. Didn't see the light. Didn't feel peace. Didn't see heaven or hell. I didn't noticed I died at all! When I woke back up in my bedroom it was like nothing had happened at all and I had just woken up from the anesthesia. My father got so shocked it probably took him around 5 years to process his kid literally was dead for a while because he just told me about this when I was like 17. So, ya see, I consider that evidence that there's no such thing as an after life. We are just sacks of meat like any other animal and when we are gone, we are gone. Sure, might be a sad way to live: after all, what's the propose? And I honestly don't think there's one. We are a miracle of evolution. The universe itself probably doesn't know what to do with us freaks
Anyway, I still respect every religion. I don't have any problem with people believing in stuff, as long as they don't try to press me into submission under their chosen diety. Then I will be forced to be rude, which is never fun
But alas, yall believe in whatever you want. As long as we all chill, we good
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kuuhakublank00 · 2 months
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Updates, I guess? (Part 2)
So well, after joining the company, I started staying at my uncle's place since they wanted us on-site and not doing work from home every single day. So the routine was to go and come back with my uncle. I also didn't like the family much (except for my cousin sister) because they were extremely right-wing and that didn't exactly sit right (heh) with me. My sister is still in school so she doesn't understand this stuff yet. Plus, our interests sort of match. I also introduced her to novels and Percy Jackson, before which she didn't ever like reading. So, that feels really good, honestly.
I also had a mini existential crisis because I found out that I don't want to be a data scientist because that is a research heavy role. But since I still like machine learning (ML) I could go for Data Engineer or ML Engineer. But these require SDE experience as well. So I had an existential crisis for about 2 days where I questioned my master's plan, talked to friends and seniors about it, questioned whether I should've gone for placements (I couldn't because the deadline to sign up for that was long gone). In the end, I decided to stick with my master's plan unless I found a good opportunity to get experience for a couple of years before going for master's.
But anyway, slowly, the routine changed to: get up at like 7:30, go to the office, work till 5:30/6 pm, come back, rest for a bit, work on college essays and the application processes till 2 am or something, sometimes 4 am if I had to meet the deadline, and then sleep. Missed 2 family trips, worked my ass off. It was really bad in Dec 15-20 because I had deadlines of like 5 colleges in that period. Dec 20 was also my project submission deadline for the internship, so that definitely didn't help things.
A few other things that happened as well during this time:
Made a new friend, my ex's best friend in fact. Wasn't really trying to hit on her, we just became friends naturally. Then she freaked out and stopped talking. Later talked about it, it was a little messy, but now we're okay.
Talked to my ex, told her how she made me feel as well back then. She apologised. But even now, since we'd decided to be friends, she doesn't really say much. I also sent a voice note to everyone that was important to me in 2023 on New Year's, and she just left a like on it. Proceeded to say "Did not know how to respond but did not want to leave you on read". Decided then that I wouldn't really keep in contact with this person anymore. We've had 2 conversations after that, pretty short ones.
Went to my college's farewell. It was nice to my friends again in person. I'd really missed them. Stayed in the hostel illegally as well lol.
Saw a post for an internship in machine learning at a startup. The company looked legit so I applied. Figured what's the worst that can happen, right? If I don't want it, I can just reject them. My uncle's company had offered me an extension after all and was even offering to start paying me. But then I got a callback for an interview, aced it, had another interview, and did good in that as well! Finally had one final interview call with the tech lead, and I got selected! I couldn't believe it! I had always wanted to get something without an influence on the hiring side. No referrals or anything. And this was my first paid internship as well. And I honestly couldn't have done it without my friends and family. Even more so, these guys hired 3 interns, and they want to convert 1-2 of them. So I hope all goes well and they convert me. This could be the opportunity that helps me gain experience before going for a master's. Plus, the funding would be really nice.
So yeah, that's been going well. I'm 2 months into this 4 month internship now. I think I'm doing well? I hope I get converted. I also moved to Bangalore because the freedom is nice, my hometown is not exactly for people my age? (it's a very slow city and I cannot for the life of me deal with that. Perhaps it would be something I would crave when I get tired of the hussle, but right now, I definitely do not like it). Trying to find friends here. That's hard.
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paleclementine · 4 months
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Here is my diary entry for the new year. Later I want to make a post of my ten favorite songs and reasons behind them. But for now here's my year.
I started this year off strong with the 2nd worst existential crisis I've had within the past 5 years of my life. Very depressed and lonely all throughout winter, but it was somewhat okay because I was anonymous in my apartment and didn't have anyone constantly judging me (compared to now). I definitely was afflicted with the trans fever, probs as a result of new discovery, and kinda made it my thing for all those months. Anthony made me food every night and we always hung out together. I entertained the notion of going to Oregon for school but changed my mind once I found out how much it costed. then I wanted to do van life, and I still have that commitment. Tbh, I still have trans fever, but it's less about ftm than it is just hating being a girl. I got really into cosplay and watched new shows like Monster and Fullmetal Alchemist. And I also rewatched Attack on Titan and gained a new love for indian food. That winter was the coldest and snowiest yet. I finished my final draft of my book, Sharper than Silver, but decided I want to rewrite the whole thing before I decide to query it. In its stead, I started writing a long fic for Bungou Stray Dogs, which I am still continuing to this day (80,000 words so far).
Then I moved back home and was immediately not just depressed, but in despair. It was a severe adjustment to go from living on my own for two years straight to living with my parents and family. It was a really rough start with fights with my sister and arguments about getting high with emily and drinking alone.... womp womp bad decisions but i had already decided that summer would be my alcoholic arc!!!!!! it low key helped me cause now I don't super like drinking anymore unless it's worth it. anyway-- I saw taylor swift, dyed my hair ginger, cut my bangs, cosplayed Chuuya, got high with bonnie, got violently high with emily, binged markiplier fnaf and Unus Annus, hung out with emily jensen, and ummm. yeah. I did spend a lot of time outside too- specifically the forest behind our house. I visited anthony one week and that was a fr relief, esp because it was an impulse thing after a fight with Hailey. I actually thing I booked it after that crazy argument with my mom where she threatened to stop funding my college. any fucking way . summer came and went. Through it all, my hatred only grew. That summer was very bitter, I think...
Then me and mom drove back to school and thus starts that ordeal. The road trip was good but boring. i met my roommates, and at first it was fine because i was a victim of the "freshmen friendgroup." I had a brief partying phase but quickly came to realize that my roommates are shallow and easily leave people out if you don't follow them like a lost dog. Then three more girls moved in with us and I slowly drifted away from all of them. Classes were also really boring. I ghosted a girl who was low key obsessed with me. I went on a road trip to southern Utah with my dad and saw the eclipse and it was low key miserable but I'm glad he got to make those memories. Emily flew to Utah and we went to the convention together and the salt flats and logan and it was so fun :) but Sam was so cruel to her for it and I really started to hate him then. Anthony was sweet than sweet to me throughout the semester, but halfway through we decided to stop eating dinner together because we were spending an obscene amount of money of food. This was when I started my "diet," which is actually a wannabe eating disorder. I lost 7-10 pounds from it. I'm actually super proud of myself for it. But amidst these things was a growing hatred for my roommates, who I still can't stand. I tried in vain to sell my lease and move apartments, but no one offered to buy it so I got stuck there. Then I left for Christmas break and me and Anthony went to NY with the fam and then I went home home.
And that was my year. It didn't seem like I did that much, but it genuinely feels like it's been an eternity since last January. I've changed so much. I think I've gotten... not more sure of myself, but more comfortable with being uncertain. I also grew the balls to actually put in the work and lose weight. and I am more comfortable with my gender, whatever it may be, and don't burst into tears when I get drunk and think about it too hard. And this whole year was the year of Taylor Swift, Ginger Hair, Bangs, Pale Skin, and writing, writing, writing. So much more has happened and there have been so many more changes, but that is all I can think to include in this post.
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espressodepressogirl · 9 months
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It's been 3 years since I posted here but heeere we fucking go.
First off, holy shit the app has changed and after ten long fucking years they finally added a read more option into the app. About fucking time.
Anyway, existential crisis hours on deck.
Like all my blood tests are coming back as fucked as ever. Somehow my imaging said my liver is fine. Yay, I guess, but the whole area hurts like a mother fucker. I don't get how they excuse that shit, but I have to assume they're using statistics and it's likely I have a thinner rib cage than average, so even though my liver is on the larger end of acceptable it's just too large for what my body can accommodate. The tech that did it said she can see it's enlarged enough to impact my heart and breathing, but whoever officially signed off said it's okay. Who the fuck knows.
My bloodwork is as fucked as ever. Since the hepatitis came back negative that's one issue that's knocked off the list, but my levels they're monitoring are so fucked. So far I'm coming up negative for illnesses that can be tested for, but that leaves no answers for how I got here. My strongest guess is that it's based on my medication, but aside from my mounjaro shot everything else was out of my system by the time I took my blood tests.
Also I don't even know if this is necessarily based on my medication. The meds I was given are standards for my situation. Mounjaro to help the pre diabetic symptoms and weight loss, metformin for blood sugar, birth control pills to prevent cramping, and spironolactone to act as an androgen blocker. All super standard to take together for PCOS. I don't necessarily understand how they could have lead to these issues. At most maybe the metformin since I had a back reaction to another version, but who fucking knows.
The doctors are just releasing all my test results to me without talking to me first. I just keep seeing all the bad shit and I'm wondering why they aren't calling me or giving me a heads up. Right now I'm captain of the Google team trying to see what's possibly going on. All I can really gain is that I either have fatty liver issues, an infection of some sort that's not been available through a blood test, super lactic acidosis from the metformin, or non drinking based cirrhosis. All of which I have no idea how to address. The metformin one should have been resolved already since the body metabolizes it out in a few days, so my tests on 7/14 shouldn't have been worse than 7/5 when I stopped taking metformin on 7/7.
Aside from the cause, which is basically a null point, I don't know what to do. I feel as shitty as ever all the time. It feels like my organs are trying to burst out of my rib cage on the right side and I can't fucking breathe. On top of that I'm an emotional mess. Anything and everything sets me off and I don't know if it's the stress or what.
I'm so mad. I'm mad at my parents for never giving a shit about my health since I was a kid. I'm mad at my mom for prioritizing her desire to avoid doctors over my wellbeing. I'm mad that when she got over that bs it was only for herself so I could play nurse maid for her. I'm mad that I couldn't afford to go to the doctor on my own for years. I'm mad that my body has failed me despite my best efforts. I'm mad I wasn't just born normal. I'm mad I was so neglected that no one cared. I'm mad that I've watched my life pass by. I'm mad that I've come last in every close irl relationship I've ever had. I'm mad that I haven't experienced true happiness in years. I'm mad about my lack of love life. I'm mad that my genetic issues made me so ugly and fucked up. I'm just mad that I can't fucking win no matter how hard I try.
I just wanted a basic, normal life for a woman. So a bit of college, work, get married, live with my husband and have a happy, modest life. I didn't want much, I never asked for anything if I couldn't do it myself. I don't know what I did wrong to not deserve that. I don't understand what else God or the fates want out of me. To die? Alone and unloved? Surrounded by my parents that couldn't have cared about me in the first place? Worst of all is that aside from my parents I only have two friends. Neither can see me. I'm stuck rotting in their house just slaving at schoolwork on the off chance I make it through and I don't want GPA to be bad. I wish I wasn't such a try hard and could just relax, but I can't even chill out if I tried. My professors will not excuse my work and give me an incomplete to finish later. I can't sit still if someone does something for me because my mother raised me to be her caretaker rather than my mother taking care of me. Wild concept that me, with fucking liver failure to the point my doctor doesn't know how I'm alive, is having to rush around my mother to cook and clean when I'm here to be on bed rest in the first place.
I wish I wasn't stuck here, but I'm sort of trapped. My parents won't leave me alone and I know it's because they care. It's just very much too little too late. Where were these fucks they had to give when allllll this shit began in spring of 2013? Why did they not care when I told them I was throwing up at least once a day just a week ago? Suddenly they care. I have to assume it's because I'm their meal ticket. I have a feeling they only agreed to help put me through college again for the sake of cashing out when I finish and get to working since that's about the time dad retires. Can't have their meal ticket dying on them, I guess.
Makes me so frustrated. I lived my whole life for them. I did everything for them, to make them happy and proud. I drove myself crazy and to misery for them. Every social expectation they had I live up to. Every task they asked I completed. And for what? To live my life as their little puppet? I hate it. I've been disciplined so hard by those fuckers that I lived in Stockholm syndrome for my whole life. Even all these years later I won't be free, I don't think I would have ever been free unless they or I die. Whichever comes first.
Also I'm so fucking tired of my forever existial crisis of dying alone. And before now it's been a hint of sarcasm, like I had at least another 40 years to find someone, so like I would have hated living my life solo but it was an option. I don't even know if I'll have that option. It's such low hanging fruit of a goal as well. Just wanting a partner that genuinely loves me seems to be asking for too much. Really, really burns my tits when I try to talk to anyone. It's always "one day you'll meet someone" or "it'll happen when you least expect it" but it's always coming from people who are either in relationships or don't want one. Like of course that's easy to say, you don't know where I'm coming from. You don't know what it's like to live your whole adult life watching yourself get uglier and uglier. You don't know what it's like to insulted mid sex or find out how much your ex can't stand you. I can't even sleep around for fun to fix the void. I'm fucking demi as hell, I literally can't get turned on unless I feel something and I'm not so delusional to fall for a one night stand. On top of that it's no longer an option, I'm just stuck in pain from sitting, I highly doubt being jostled around during sex would be comfortable, much less pleasurable.
I'm disappointed looking back at my life. I have nothing to show for my whole existence. As an artist I've created nothing. I've never worked anything but dead end jobs. I couldn't even finish a real degree before my 30s. I have no family of my own, not even a boyfriend that lasts more than a few months. I can't even make more than two friends. I'm not even good at my hobbies. There's no goals and no dreams, I didn't even plan to live this long in the first place. I don't even have a purpose.
Is this all my life is? Mediocrity? What even was all this for? Why did I have to suffer all this time? Why was I even born? Is my life even worth the resources to continue it? Do I even want to get better? Would the world be better off without me?
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samatheia229 · 1 year
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PERSONAL RANT #1
⚠️Just in case, adding a Trigger Warning.
(Don't know what and if there are any triggers in the following rant but it's about probably-less-than-optimal mental health so better safe than sorry. If at any time you feel a bit triggered, please scroll past/exit as quickly as possible.)
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I absolutely abhor psychometric and personality tests.
Twice a year, my school's counseling unit has us take these psychometric tests that evaluate our current emotional and mental state through answering questions on a form. It's a scale from 'Never' to 'Every Day' with a time frame of the two last two months. They ask questions like 'Have you been unmotivated to do anything?' and 'Do you want to drop out of school?'
It serves to help identify students who may require counseling, such as those suffering with anxiety, depression, etc. And that's a good thing, of course, for those who really do need the help and feel that they can't speak up about it.
Then, there are those government-sanctioned personality/career tests. It's less of a personality test and more of evaluating 'traits' like extraversion, logical reasoning, creativity (which is bull, by the way, because the questions for this lean towards creativity in solving problems, ie. your innovative ability [damn you, STEM-oriented government, a 10% in Creativity when I'm literally a fantasy writer]), musical inclination etc. to help in career counseling. Again, great for those who need it.
And then there's me.
I admit that I've got problems. I'm not in my optimal state (is anyone ever?) but it's not bad? Yes, I catastrophise and over-think like crazy; yes, I have daddy issues; yes, my hygiene-freak tendencies increased tenfold after COVID; yes, I have trouble identifying and remembering if I've truly experienced certain emotions and I feel lowkey empty most of the time but I still mostly function just fine? I'm still TOP 5 in class, I'm still obsessing over SEVENTEEN and a bunch of books/shows, my social life is bleak as ever, just the way I like it, and my physical health continues to play hot-and-cold with me, made worse by the weather but what else is new?
Most days I function fine with my plethora of issues, and it doesn't really seem to have a super major effect on my life, thus far anyway. And see, at this point some may seek therapy to 'get better' but I'm actually alright with how I am now, problems and all, I just get the occasional existential crisis because of these damn tests. I'm not miserable but not happy. I don't want to 'get better', so to speak. I'm just eh with the shoulder shrug and I'm okay with it. Is that a bad thing?
Now, what I really don't appreciate is my problems being shoved in my face all at once and triggering an existential crisis of whether or not I'm a helpful person.
This is a good segue to my next point. The questions these tests ask. 'I would give a good opportunity to someone else.' 'I help others.' 'I can solve problems.' 'I can invent new and innovative solutions to problems.'
Reminder, the answers are Always, Some Days, More Than Half The Days, and Never. I'm a very situational person so my actions heavily on the situation. Like, I'm not a saint; I wouldn't go out of my way to help you but I wouldn't say no if you asked me. I know it's supposed to be general, but again, it depends with me. Cue the existential crisis because I don't know what to choose. I usually go for Some Days because that's the closest neutral option.
==
There wasn't really a point to this post besides my hatred for having to sit through psychometric/personality/career evaluations. I just needed to get this out. If you stuck around until the end, thank you for taking the time.
(Yes, I'm aware I probably need a therapy but like I said, I'm still relatively okay and therapy's expensive. As dearest Mama always tells me when I'm being catastrophic, "Sam, the sky is not falling." Here's to hoping it won't both figuratively and literally because both sound really annoying and time-consuming to fix.
On that note, if anyone has any tips on how NOT to have an existential crisis when taking such mandatory, standardised tests besides getting therapy, please share, that would be great.)
Also, does anyone know how to switch my grammar-correct setting to British/UK English? It keeps red-underlining and suggesting the z version.
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shingia · 3 years
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is it really clever to start a long fic when none of the fics i’ve already posted here have had a big success?
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nevermindirah · 3 years
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Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).
Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)
The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.
In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.
Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?
I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.
Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.
And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.
I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.
Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.
I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.
One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)
Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.
Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.
It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.
Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.
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mishasminions · 3 years
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The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)
15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.
[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]
First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.
If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.
Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.
Never happened.
They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 
If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.
Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.
[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]
SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL
Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).
I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.
But now, they’ve chosen to define it.
After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.
Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.
They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.
And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.
But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.
Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.
Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.
Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.
And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.
Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.
It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.
You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.
And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,
But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.
No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.
SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO
There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.
First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:
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So, let’s start with
ENDING HORRIBLY
In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.
Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.
Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.
So what we get is:
Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.
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Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.
Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.
Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.
His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.
Sam also gets a dog. As usual.
I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.
Anyway, onto the next possible ending
ENDING SPECTACULARLY
In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)
Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)
Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.
This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.
And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)
Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.
So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”
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So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.
And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.
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Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.
Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.
So here’s what we can get out of it:
With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.
So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.
Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.
Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.
But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.
Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.
So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.
They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.
Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.
(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)
Anyway...
I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.
But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”
If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.
Here’s to hoping 🤡
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