#i only went on a quick research binge on this and might be completely wrong

[bobcatmoran]

I just read an article about wax cylinders, and it sounds like for home voice recordings like Seward's diary, they'd oftentimes be recorded at half the speed that a lot of music recordings were made, e.g. 80 RPM vs 160 RPM. The longest music cylinders at the time seem to have been 4 minutes (at 160 RPM), so Seward is probably getting 8 minutes per cylinder. Given how…uh…verbose his entries can sometimes be (like today), he's gotta have a GIANT stash of wax cylinders for his diary. Like, I know it's Very Modern of him to do that, but. Uh. The space it has to take up must be considerable.

#dracula daily #dracula #corrections welcome! #i only went on a quick research binge on this and might be completely wrong

[dreamerhideout]

i love you so

summary: after recovering from a messy break-up with your high school sweetheart, you’d never expect to find happiness in someone who bumped into you on the subway. but that’s where jake sim comes in.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, office!au

characters: jake x reader, mentions of ex-boyfriend!jay

warnings: partially proofread, but besides that, none

word count: 1946

a/n: this was supposed to be an entry for the “and then we met” @enhypenwriters writing event, but i think i lost the muse for this a bit too fast (plus, school swamped me again.) i literally wanted to base it off this song by the walters until it dawned on me that it was a heartbreak song :/ hence i made a few adjustments. i’m not quite sure if i’m fully satisfied with how this turned out, but i hope you still enjoy it~

more under the cut!

your heels clicked on the platform as you weaved your way through the crowd of people. it was a bustling monday morning, and waking up half an hour late was not how you expected to start your week. bingeing on this one political-drama show the night before began to feel like a regrettable choice, but there was no time to dwell on that when you see your train pulling up at the platform.

“oh damn, i’m so sorry.”

maybe it was because of how distracted you were from your surroundings that you hadn’t realized that someone bumped into you. as a result, you barely noticed that your coat had gotten stained from the coffee in their cup.

you gave them an apologetic smile, too rushed to get pissed. “no worries.” pausing for a second, you registered the culprit to be a man with a head of chocolate-brown hair and slightly frantic eyes before jogging towards the open subway cart door. once you got on the nearly-stuffed train, your eyes peered down towards your coat. sighing, you swiped at your coffee-stained coat with your finger; perhaps you’d be able to get it cleaned at the office later on if you weren’t getting your ear chewed off by your manager.

-

“we have a new employee joining us today.”

exiting the bathroom door with a slightly-scrubbed coat in hand, you heard your manager call out, then the chatter in the room subsiding. she was standing beside a man that you wouldn’t have vaguely remembered seeing before if it weren’t for the small smile he gave you.

“hi everyone, i’m jake sim. i’ll be working under the research department starting today. it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

you recognized that voice a little too well, then glancing at your dampened coat. who knew that the man you hastily bumped into this morning would be working at your office?

“jake will be occupying the desk next to (y/n)’s, and he’ll also be under my supervision as he’s still on trial for the next two weeks.” almost instantly, your manager turned towards you, who was still standing in front of the bathroom door.

“oh, yes,” you replied, eyes widening slightly. you went towards your cubicle and motioned to the empty desk beside you for jake to put his things, “over here.”

he walked over and placed a box filled with his belongings on top of the table, then unpacking. “well, i never thought i’d see you here,” he chuckled, “really sorry for what happened earlier, by the way.”

“eh, it’s no big deal.” you draped your coat over your chair for it to dry, “i managed to scrub off most of the stain, so it should be fine.”

“are you sure it isn’t ruined?” he turned to face you, slightly quirking an eyebrow.

you grinned in response, “positive."

jake had placed some stationery into a pencil holder before extending out a hand towards you. “i know i’ve introduced myself earlier.” he smiled rather awkwardly, “but for the sake of us being desk-mates, i’ll do it again. i’m jake.”

your hand met his for a quick shake, a knowing smile on your face. “(y/n). nice to meet you.”

-

if you were sure about one thing, it’d be that time flies by when you’re drowning in deadlines. the sun had already disappeared, yet you still sat hunched over your laptop, fingers typing away at a report due tomorrow assigned a few hours ago. you would have argued with your manager on the matter, but the glare she gave you as you were about to open your mouth was enough to make you shrink back into your seat.

out of habit, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, expecting to see a message notification from jay, your boyfriend, who’d usually come to pick you up from work. when you didn’t receive one, however, it only dawned on you once again that you weren’t even with him anymore. he was the reason why your routine for the past few months had been working and binge-watching on repeat, with the occasional cry session if you were feeling really out of it. moving on after said breakup had been difficult, especially when it involved the very person who vowed to marry you on the day of your high school graduation.

“working overtime?”

you peered up from your head in your hands to see jake. he had pushed his chair back and was looking at you past the divider. it was way past office hours and you swore that you heard the last of your coworkers’ chatter out the door a few hours ago, but you must have been mistaken.

“yeah.” you gave him a grim smile, “some stupid report i was told to do today.”

“ouch,” he winced, closing his laptop. jake then studied your expression, picking up on how exhausted you looked. “tell you what.” he stood up and began slipping items into his backpack, “what if we went home together? maybe i could grab you something on the way back to make up for earlier.”

you looked up from your screen to see a cheeky smile on his lips. the offer did seem tempting, but you were ways away from actually completing the report. “oh that really isn’t necessary...” you threw him a small smile as you waved a hand rather dismissively, “i might be here for a long while, and i wouldn’t want to hold you back from going home.”

“i insist, (y/n).” jake zipped up his backpack after tossing in a file, “i wouldn’t mind waiting since i have nothing due tomorrow.” he then propped an elbow up on the divider, leaning on it as he carefully took note of the obvious strain on your eyes as well as how you had a slight pout on your lips when you were focused, “and besides... you kinda look like you could use some company.”

a small hum was heard from your mouth until you finally sighed in defeat; he definitely wasn’t wrong about company. “if you say so, then.” you stretched your arms, turning away from your screen, “maybe having you around will make me work faster?”

“how so?”

“you know how sometimes kids won’t work on their homework unless there’s an adult cowering over them like a hawk? yeah, that.” 

jake brought a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh, which ended in him snorting instead. you could feel a smile creep up your lips.

-

the trip home was the most fun you’ve had in months. it didn’t occur to you that jake would be such an avid chatterbox, but you were sorely mistaken. he always had a conversation topic up his sleeve, whether it was about daily adult struggles to his childhood back in australia. you also noticed how he absolutely could not shut up about his beloved dog, layla; it’s a wonder how he had an entire album filled with hundreds of her pictures on his phone. slowly but surely, you also began juggling the conversation; it was as if you had reverted to your bright, happy self pre-breakup. talking with him really felt like reuniting with a long-lost friend, and it was only a matter of minutes until you had reached your apartment's front door.

jake had wanted to use your bathroom for a bit, but it ended with you suggesting for him to stay for dinner which consisted of microwaved pizza and sweet tea. you placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of the tv, then starting up the series you were bingeing on the other night.

“is that designated survivor?” jake sat on your sofa before grabbing a slice of pizza from the plate.

“mhm,” you replied, mouth stuffed. swallowing first, you then replied to him, “the synopsis made me curious.”

your remark was met with silence as you saw jake’s gazed fixed intently upon the screen. it wouldn’t have occurred to you that you’d be having a coworker (who was insanely attractive, nonetheless) over for dinner, but it didn’t bother you at all when jake made offhand comments about the characters and scenes of the series. it also occurred to you quite late that you hadn’t gotten napkins out for the both of you.

“hold on, lemme grab something.” you stood up and went towards your cabinets in search for napkins. jake’s attention broke from the screen to follow your figure before his gaze momentarily landed on a photo frame by the side of your sofa. it was a picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, with his arm wrapped around you as you both smiled brightly for the camera.

“i didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” the man teased as he saw you walk back towards him, napkins in hand. your expression dropped when you realized that throughout the time you’ve been trying to mend your broken heart, you had forgotten to put away that photo.

“we broke up.”

guilt flashed across jake’s face as he realized he had overstepped. “oh wow, i’m sorry... i shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“it’s fine. i guess i must’ve forgotten to put that away.” you smiled at him and placed the napkins on the table before flipping the frame down. taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to focus on the show playing in front of you; you could feel bits of dread wallow in the bottom of your stomach.

there was a moment of awkward pause as neither of you knew what to say. just as you were about to ask jake to leave since you could feel dread clawing at your insides, he suddenly spoke up, “you’re... really strong, though.”

turning to face him, you stared at him quizzically, “really?”

“yeah.” jake could feel your eyes on him, “i mean, if it weren’t for me finding out, i would’ve never guessed that you were going through that.” he grabbed another piece of pizza before meeting your gaze, “you’re a great person, (y/n). i think you should know that. and if you’d need someone to talk to about him... although i don’t really know the guy, i’m all ears.”

the way he gave you a soft smile at the end made your heart slightly flutter. maybe it was because there was this very charming man consoling you on your last breakup, but it was more on the fact that you knew someone had your back in your times of healing. “thanks, jake.” you smiled back, feeling your heart lighten. “i appreciate it. a lot.”

jake felt his heart flip at the sight of your smile. it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you smile the entire day; it was a different kind as he could see some weight visibly lifted from you. you were pretty cute when you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the sides when you did, and he wondered how he hadn’t realized that sooner.

“uh... jake?” you waved a hand in front of his face to break him away from his stare. he quickly snapped out of his reverie, ears tinting a shade of pink.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that...” he murmured nervously, scratching the back of his head, “guess i got a bit distracted there?”

“i noticed.” you giggled in response, turning your attention back towards the tv. you saw how he stared at you after you spoke, eyes lost in a dream-like trance, and you felt your heart go fuzzy.

perhaps you were still healing, and you might need a little more time before jumping into something new. but rest assured, you knew that jake would be waiting on the other side no matter what.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun imagines #enhypen jake #jake imagines #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim #jake sim imagines #enhypen fluff

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Chapter 1 - intentions, a Tom Holland series

The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. No warnings. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

(y/f/n) = your first name

(y/l/n) = your last name

(y/n) = your name, complete or not

1.8k words

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Your docu-series was doing better than anybody expected, well, anybody but you, it was a project that you really believed in. You sold the first season to Netflix with its 10 episodes shot all in NYC and they premiered with almost no press or promotion. But still, the wholesome moments and captivating stories had already become viral and people were so impressed by you. The text was amazing, and your improvisation and good mood lifted the spirit of the whole thing, making it the new feel-good show everybody was binging and talking about.

Better late than never, Netflix decided to promote the show and so they sent you to give interviews and go on talk shows. You still didn’t have an agent, something that you were in desperate need of, because your phone was blowing up all the time with offers for publicity deals, new interviews, and even some job offers. You couldn’t think about that now, you had to focus on making this “press tour” the best possible so, in the next meeting with the Netflix executives, you could close at least two more seasons for your show (and maybe score some other deal for yourself). With all this, you still had to worry about grad school (you still had at least one more year ahead of you until you get your PhD, if you managed to get time to write the dissertation)! You’d have lost your mind for sure, if it wasn’t for your producer and partner in business, David. He was helping you schedule everything and organizing talking points for the promotion tour, but ultimately you were the face of the operation. Fair is fair, that’s why you got to find an agent ASAP.

Currently, you and David were in London for the last bit of the trip, after tomorrow, you guys were going back home to NYC. One thing at a time, you thought to yourself while he talked on the phone with his fiancé outside of the coffee shop you guys were grabbing a bite at lunchtime.

You looked outside the windows, this was your first time in London and you couldn’t stop thinking about how it looked exactly like everything you ever imagined but so much more at the same time. Just like NYC, in that sense. You smiled thinking about maybe shooting a season here someday.

“Hey! Did you order something?” David snapped his fingers and to get you out of your trance.

“Huh?” you looked up.

“Earth to (y/n)? I thought you were hungry?” He laughed at you.

“Sorry, but common, look at this city! You can’t blame me for getting hypnotized.” You answered while he went straight to the counter to order some food and beverages for you guys.

“Yeah, it's beautiful. But this weather, how can someone function with this much moisture all around? Is like the air is heavier.” He said sitting back.

“The air is heavier because of the pollution, probably.” You joked back. You always loved big cities, but that didn’t mean you’d close your eyes for their problems, you just had a better tolerance for this kind of stuff. “How’s Lukas anyway? Everything alright back home?” You asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. He’s just touring wedding venues. He was really happy with the sudden budget increase.” He answered.

“Well, if he waits long enough, his budget might get even bigger. Speaking of which, we got to talk to some layer about that meeting next week. I think we’d be smart to go in there with our terms very well thought about.” You said.

“Right. I’m looking into it. You worry about finding that agent. One thing is the show, the other is your image. And something tells me the more you’re valued in, the more we can negotiate for the show.” He reasoned while the waitress walked towards the table with two plates.

“Own! Is so sweet to have a friend looking out for me!” You joked and threw a napkin at him.

“I am! You’ll see that when your huge face it's on Times Square and you’re closing the deal on some penthouse at 5th.” He laughed.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes at him. David was sweet, but he wanted nothing to do with the celebrity part of this project of yours and you knew he said this kind of stuff in a condescending kind of way. He wasn’t wrong, but you also couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy the attention you were getting because of the show. Maybe he didn’t felt like that because he had Lukas, but you were more than ok to take a few selfies with strangers and doing some photoshoots here and there. You liked the attention, but as long as you were concerned, penthouses and money deals weren’t included in your idea of happiness. Regardless, everything was so new and fun. Thrilling, if you didn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

“Is everything ok for later? Is just this one today, right? Then Radio One tomorrow morning?” You asked him before taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Yes. Yes. And yes. Mary sent your clothes straight there and someone from the show will make your hair and makeup. I think we should go right after here? We’ll have some time to kill there, but I think we can hang out backstage.” He answered.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking maybe we could walk around. Get to know the city? Maybe visit-”

“Excuse me?” You were interrupted by two girls, apparently close to your own age.

“Hi!” You answered happily, but you could see David recoil in his seat (probably already expecting to be asked to snap the picture).

“You’re (y/f/n) (y/l/n)? From that Netflix show?” One of them asked the blonde one.

“Yeah…its (y/l/n), actually, but that’s fine!” You laughed and tried to be friendly.

“Oh! Sorry! We thought the show was so cool and you’re so beautiful!” The other friend said, the one with black roots and blueish tips.

“That’s sweet! Thank you for telling me! David helped me produce it, did you know?” You pointed to the guy extremely uncomfortable in front of you. You loved messing with him.

“Hi.” He said uncomfortably. There was an awkward silence.

“Anyway, would you mind taking a picture with us?” The girl with blue hair asked you.

“Sure! No problem!” You answered quickly and got up to pose.

After you guys took some selfies and David took some pictures of the three of you, you insisted he was in the shot too and the girls agreed politely. He wanted to kill you, but you didn’t care, you were only messing with him. How often you had the chance anyway?

“Thank you so much! Bye!” They said as they left you two to finish your meal.

“If only every teenage with a phone was this civilized,” David said grumpily.

“You complain too much. They were sweet! And they liked our show! That’s awesome!” You seated back.

“I guess that’s pretty great.” He smiled at you. But his smile died once he looked at his clock.

“Anyway, finish eating. I don’t think we’ll have time to even hang around backstage. They told me we’d have to be there at 3” and its already 2’30!” He told you while signaling the waitress for the check.

When you got to the studio, which was in central London luckily and not far from where you guys had lunch, there was a corridor with some doors and your name was in one of them. The Graham Norton Show was super fun and guests sat together on the same couch while being interviewed at the same time. You hadn’t even thought about who the other guests would be yet, but you had to put on the outfit that Mary, the Netflix stylist, had prepared for you and get your hair and makeup done.

“Hey! Can you find out who the other guests are while I change?” You asked David.

“Sure! I’ll be right back!” He answered opening the door and letting a small middle-aged woman inside.

“Hi!” She greeted him. “I’m Rosie. Here for makeup and hair.” She announced.

“Hi! I’m (y/n)! I’ll just change real quick, do you have a cape we can put over the outfit so it doesn’t get dirty?” You asked already undressing in front of her, David was long gone by now.

“Sure, sure. We have to be quick though darling, you’re going on in 30 minutes.” She said opening the little suitcase on the counter under the mirror.

You put the dress on and sat on the chair in front of the mirror.

“You can keep it simple, all the way. I get more nervous if the hair and makeup are too pretty, afraid of ruining it with my movements and sweat. Which of course, only makes me move and sweat more!” You laughed, trying to make conversation and relax.

“Relax, you’re already beautiful! We can just make some curls and after I’m done with your skin, a good eyeliner and pink lips?” She asked. You were glad she was nice and chill about it.

“Sounds perfect! Do you know who the other guests are? We were kind of squeezed in today.” You laughed again.

“Oh! Yeah! Its -” She started to say but was interrupted but David coming abruptly inside.

“Ok! Don’t freak out!” He said.

“I already am! Why would you come in like that? What is it?” You asked already freaking very much out.

“Its Tom Hanks. And -” He said.

“WHAT? Are you serious? What the hell man?” You tried to move but Rosie pushed you back on your seat.

“Yeah. And Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland. And Stormzy is singing later. They’re promoting Spider-man and Hanks is here for the new Toy Story.” He explained.

“I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m going to die.” You mumbled.

“Well, which one it is darling? I’ll just add some more blush anyway.” She laughed at your reaction.

“Fuck David, they must really be betting on us. Why else would they put us on the same couch as Tom Hanks and those guys? Super-hero guys!” You reasoned with him.

“I was thinking the same thing…” He started to talk but he noticed your expression.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Relax! You’ll be great! You’ll do great! They were really excited to meet you actually! They love the show!” He told you trying to calm you down.

“Oh, man! What? They’re out there? And they want to meet me? And I’m in here? Oh boy, they must think I’m so rude!” You thought out loud.

“No! No! I told them we were late and you had to get ready. Yes, I chatted with Spider-man and Bumble Boy.” He gloated.

“Bumble boy?” You laughed at him but thanked him with your eyes because you knew he was just trying to distract you. There was a knock on the door and a stage assistant pecked inside.

“Hi! Is Miss (y/l/n) ready? We’re starting in 5 minutes.” She said.

“All ready!” Rosie answered.

“Oh lord. Thank you Rosie.” You were freaking out but didn’t want to forget to thank her.

“Oh! I forgot to mention. Gwyneth Paltrow is here too.” David said before running out of the room.

“WHAT?” You wanted to chase him but were scared to fall from low blood pressure.

#Tom Holland #Tom Holland fanfic #tom holland x fem #tom holland reader #reader is famous #Tom hanks #jake gyllenhaal #graham norton #interview #tom holland one shot

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Episode 1, Surprised to be Dead

Hello, all you hypothetical readers! It's a beautiful spring day and I have a free afternoon ahead of me, so what better time to start another massive project while I guilty stuff my other WIPs deep into the depths of my hard drive? Yeah. Iffy life choices aside, someone mentioned a few weeks back that they'd love for me to recap a show I have more positive things to say about than negative (RIP RWBY) and ever since Netflix announced that their live-action adaptation of Yu Yu Hakusho is in the works, I've been itching for a re-watch of the anime. With the RWBY hiatus underway, it seemed like the perfect time to fulfill both desires.

Before we begin though, I'd like to touch on a few things that are going to influence this project.

First, YYH is near and dear to my heart. Written by Yoshihiro Togashi in the early 1990s and later adapted for an American audience by Funimation, I had the pleasure of experiencing this story five different ways: as a serialized tale in Shonen Jump, a binge read when I had the money to buy the manga, tiny snippets of the anime on Adult Swim late at night — don't tell my parents ;) — as an after-school treat on Toonami, and then years later as a re-watch when I introduced it to a friend (who, in turn, blessed me by having us watch Fullmetal Alchemist next). I used to keep a Hiei bookmark in everything I was reading, the spirit gun made it into our witch-wolf-space adventures on the playground (middle school was wild), and there was a long period of my life where I tried very hard to teach myself to stand with my hands behind my back, precisely as Genkai does. Spoiler alert: I failed. So to say I love the series is... a little bit of an understatement. I bring this up simply as a way of demonstrating that there's more than a bit of nostalgia attached to YYH for me and that will inevitably cloud my reading of it. How can it not? So that's just something to keep in mind as I work through a series that, like any having hit its 30th birthday, has its outdated, flawed, and other questionable aspects.

Second, but very much connected to the first point, is that these are pretty casual recaps. I summarize and extrapolate, focusing primarily on plot and dialogue (but with the occasional cinematography aspect tossed in). I'm not conducting research on the cultural history here — something that will come up at least once in this episode — I'm not arguing an overarching thesis, and I've never been someone who focuses on the author/production/trivia of a series. I'm here for the story as the story is presented to the viewer. If you've read my RWBY Recaps, this will function precisely the same way, with the only difference being I'm engaging with a finished text as opposed to an ongoing one, so there’s a lot less, “Maybe ___ will happen” theorizing going on. 

Third, I obviously recommend that you watch the show yourself (you can find it on YouTube!), but you don't have to know the series to follow along. As these massive paragraphs attest, I tend to be both detailed and verbose, so we'll be covering every major plot point — and most of the smaller ones too.

Finally, I'm working from the dub. I know, I know, the horror. But it's what I grew up on and, honestly, I think it's superior to the sub. YYH's dubbing is in a class all its own and to this day there are very few shows that compare to it. Trust me, it's a good call.

That's enough of the boring chit-chat though. Let's get started!

Our very first episode "Surprised to be Dead" opens on a crowded street. We see lots of traffic, people going about their business, and a pedestrian crossing sign that, crucially, turns red. This is our normality and, like in every genre story, you need to break that normality at some point so that the protagonists can go on their fantastical/supernatural/science fiction journey. YYH eases us into things by first breaking the normality of an everyday afternoon: there's a screech of tires, quick shots of a man pushing a child out of the way of an oncoming car, and then his back is hitting the windshield. We begin this story with a horrible — but otherwise mundane — car crash.

Now, these flashes alone have a fair bit to unpack. Despite later getting a brief shot of the man's scared face right before he's hit, the moment's focus is really on the child. He's the one foregrounded in the initial, slow-mo shot. He's the one who appears in color while the man is kept in shadow. This isn't just a hit, it's a rescue. The camera is also careful to follow the soccer ball this kid was playing with (more on that later in the episode), with it flying through the air as the man is hit and bouncing to a stop in the street, acting as the dramatic finish. It's childhood! It's innocence! It's play on a sunny afternoon! And it's all gone wrong.

This moment is chaotic and even a bit confusing. Not in the sense of what's happening — that is quite obviously a guy being hit by a car — but who the victims are, how precisely this came about, or even why we're meant to care about this beyond a generic capacity to feel for other human (fictional) beings... that's all removed. And it works. As the crash takes place, the camera pans across the stunned crowd and we, the viewer, become a part of that crowd. They don't know what precisely is going on either. We're all just horrified onlookers as a sudden tragedy takes place. We're all watching the same show.

So everyone realizes this guy has been hit. People are staring in shock and someone calls for an ambulance. We see the driver fall to his knees in the street, distraught, shakily saying, "I didn't mean to..." It's a very serious and emotional scene that —

— is immediately tempered by this guy waking up, complete with a cute 'pop!' sound effect when he opens his eyes.

This is YYH's brand, this Very Serious Circumstances skillfully interwoven with casual indifference/comedy. It's admittedly far from a unique brand, but it's an excellent choice given that this is the same attitude that will drive 99% of our protagonist's interaction with the world.

Speaking of said protagonist, our guy wakes up, opens his eyes, and realizes that he's floating. There's a great, disorientating shot from his perspective where everything is upside down, causing him to nearly fall out of the air. Well would you look at that, he's as confused as we are. It's our audience surrogate!

A narrator says, "And so it all begins. This boy's name is Yusuke, he's fourteen years old, and he's supposed to be the hero of this story. But oddly enough, he's dead."

Game of Thrones might have made it popular, but YYH did it better.

(Yeah, yeah, I know one death kick-starts the journey and the other is a shocking twist. Just let me have this.)

Now, it's a weird introduction, right? At least at the end. The announcement that change has occurred, a name, an age... that all checks out. But "supposed to be the hero"? What the hell is that “supposed to” mean? Our narrator gives us the easy, surface answer: "But oddly enough, he's dead." We're capitalizing here on the audience's expectation that death ends a character's journey and though they may have been a hero previously, they can no longer be one moving forward. That function within the story has passed. So it's this intriguing question of, "What kind of hero do you have when that hero is dead from the start?" but as we'll see soon, there's an additional meaning here of, "How can Yusuke be the hero?" As this premiere sets up, Yusuke doesn't act like the hero is “supposed to” act. 

Until he saved this kid.

But right now he's just confused: "Okay, this is weird. Stupid weird."

Two EMTs arrive on the scene and are hilariously useless. You know how in any medical drama a doctor will stop CPR after a couple of seconds because obviously you're not going to spend half the episode on realism? Well, that's this only a thousand times worse. One guy just looks at the kid and announces he's fine except for some bumps and bruises. Meanwhile, the kid is sobbing.

"Well, at least one of them is," replies the other EMT, because I guess he can tell Yusuke is beyond hope without taking a pulse or anything? "I hate cleanup," he complains as they load his body onto a stretcher because that's? An empathetic response to have??

Honestly this scene is wild.

Yusuke is understandably upset that he's, you know, dead and all. He starts hounding the EMTs who, unable to hear him, just go about their business of taking the kid and his body to the hospital. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on? You can't just write me off. Listen to me!" and Yusuke tries to punch one of the EMTs in the head, resulting in him floating right through.

What a great way to introduce your protagonist's personality. We see here that when things go wrong Yusuke's default emotion is anger and it starts creeping in even before he thinks the others are ignoring him: "Stupid weird." He has problems with authority — "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on?" — is used to others listening when he gets angry — "You can't just write me off!" — and is poised to use violence at the slightest provocation. Yusuke is a guy who, right now at least, is ready to punch first and ask questions later.

As Yusuke floats back up into the air and the ambulance drives away, he finally cools down enough to try and think his way out of this. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a jam,” he thinks. Yusuke recalls that yeah, something was different about today...

...he actually went to school.

Catch me laughing that this idiot boy equates the weirdness of him dying with going to school. Good lord. 

Anyway, this jumpstarts our flashback. We open on a generic, anime middle school (that always feels like a high school to me) where the principal is calling for Yusuke through the loud speaker. Oooo someone’s in trouble! We follow a young girl up to the rooftop and she gets a classic hair-blowing-in-the-wind moment to  establish that she's our love interest. Meet Keiko Yukimura.

Keiko finds Yusuke hanging out and immediately starts lecturing him for trying to chew gum and refusing to wear the boys' uniform. "Oh, give me a break, Keiko. I look better in green." Note that it's here we learn her name and it's an easy, casual way to introduce it. I bring this up because Yusuke's introduction via our narrator is very much... not that. It's an on your nose statement about his name, age, and importance to the story, and if you're just starting the show in 2021, it might come across as a rather armature move. Like something out of a kid's show, perhaps. Yet here we see that this was a deliberate choice, considering that YYH is capable of introducing character information naturally when it wants to.

This moment also tells us that Yusuke cares a great deal about his image. More on that in a bit. Because Keiko isn't finished her list of grievances yet, going on to say that his attendance record has hurt their entire class, hurt her as class representative, and if he keeps going down this path he won't even graduate middle school. "Sometimes I think you don't care about anyone but yourself and then you don't even do that right!"

They're legit complaints. Too bad Yusuke is busy looking up Keiko's skirt.

Yeeeeah. Sadly, this is common for anime, particularly a 90s anime like YYH. Even presumably more progressive series like My Hero Academia feature characters like Mineta, whose entire personality is being a pervert, and the creation of abilities that "require" kids/young women to be scantily clad. See: Yaoyorozu. YYH is no different in this regard, with various forms of sexual harassment functioning as a shorthand for how much Yusuke secretly likes Keiko. "Boys will be boys," right? Obviously not. 

Like so many others series, the creators get away with it because they’re framing it as a bad thing. It's totally fine because look, Keiko slaps him! This is  teaching the viewer how wrong this behavior is. Never mind that this is clearly an established habit between them, that Yusuke laughs off Keiko's discomfort, and that the whole scene is meant to be funny for the viewer. That's the real purpose here; it’s not a PSA on harassment. 

That, and to establish the long-suffering love Keiko has for Yusuke in turn, largely stemming from a life-long friendship. "Dumb boy! He hasn't grown up a bit since he was four years old." We see that Keiko's early interactions with Yusuke have given her insight that others lack. As she heads down from the roof she runs into two girls hiding around the corner, too scared to come out lest "the great Urameshi" set his sights on them. Isn't Keiko terrified of what he might do to her? "Or worse, what others might say of it?" Like any classic high school middle school setting, one's reputation is king. Yusuke cares about how others see him — maintaining that tough boy attitude — and the girls care more about what the rest of the school might think of Keiko's interactions with him than the presumed harm Yusuke could do to her. They heard he can summon 2,000 men with just a whistle and that he "kills for fun!" But that means nothing in the face of people talking about you. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, Keiko is the outsider here via her disinterest in what other people think.

The animation changes here, giving us a good look at how the girls picture Yusuke: tough, scowling, surrounded by shadows, and backed by an entire army.

In contrast, we've already seen what Yusuke is really like.

Keiko laughs the image off too. Yusuke is more like a "lamb" than a killer and besides, he couldn't order around two people, let alone two hundred. "He doesn't have many friends."

"That's not what I heard," says one of the girls. 

"Yeah," goes the other. "I think we would know." 

Again, rumors rule here, with whispers in the hall considered more reliable than someone who interacts with Yusuke on a daily basis. Keiko doesn’t have a hope of changing their minds. 

Oh, as a side note, I love that they gave Keiko Miyazaki-esque hair. It's very emotive.

Yusuke escapes outside where the principal is still calling for him to report to his office. He overhears a conversation around the corner and we cut to two boys, one of which is showing a wallet off to the other. He explains that some bully tried to rough him up, but he said he was Urameshi's cousin and the bully took off, dropping his wallet in the process. The guy's friend is impressed, but what is he going to do if Yusuke ever finds out he lied? Not to worry, he says, that "blockhead" would probably think it's true even if he did somehow hear.

Yusuke, obviously, does hear about this and he, also obviously, does not believe this guy is his cousin. He looms ominously and they scurry up against a wall, terrified and offering him the wallet as an apology.

"You think I want your money?" Yusuke yells.

YYH is, in many respects, a rather simple story, but I appreciate the hints of complexity in these otherwise straightforward interactions. It's not that this guy used Yusuke's name to steal a wallet, he used it as a form of protection against another bully — a far more sympathetic motivation. It's not that Yusuke's fearsome reputation has resulted in any genuine respect because once people think they're safe they reveal how little they think of his intelligence — he's a "blockhead." And Yusuke, though intimidating and violent, is not your average, schoolyard bully. He doesn't care about money, only the insult and the damage this guy using his name might have done to his reputation. There's a little more nuance here than you might otherwise expect.

Also, note how dark the boys' standard uniforms are and how much they blend into the rest of the world. Yusuke, as our protagonist, stands out in his bright clothing. He was right, he does look better in green!

So he's ready to clobber this kid when one of the teachers arrive: Mr. Iwamoto.

Iwamoto demands to know what's going on, but the boys are too terrified to rat Yusuke out. Noticing the wallet on the ground, he assumes that Yusuke was after their money, something that greatly offends him: "Whatever!" Iwamoto goes on to say that, "No good weeds like you should have been plucked a long time ago," making it clear that he considers Yusuke a hopeless case. The positive aspects that Keiko sees, as well as the complexity the viewer sees — to say nothing of his introduction of saving a kid — aren’t considered here.

Notably, Iwamoto exists in part to show us what Yusuke could become. Not a teacher (he's obviously not attending school enough for that!), but a cynical man who is cruel for cruelty's sake. Yusuke is already barreling down that path, ignoring Keiko's advice, terrorizing other students, trying to punch EMTs, etc. If his life (or afterlife...) hadn't changed through that accident, this is the kind of person Yusuke might have grown up to be, and we can see that clearly in the visual parallels between them. Dark haired men dressed in green who scowl with ease and toss out cutting insults. Yusuke is staring his future in the face.

For now he walks off with a final shot, "You shouldn't talk. It makes you sound stupid." This time Yusuke makes it to the school's entrance and tries to enjoy his second attempt at chewing gum, but someone hits him in the back of the head.

"Okay, somebody's DEAD — ah. Sorry, old man."

"That's Mr. Takenaka to you."

Our principal has finally left the office and hunted down Yusuke for himself! Putting this interaction immediately after the one with Iwamoto allows the viewer to compare them. Yusuke might be irreverent towards his principal, but it's clear there's still some kind of respect between them. Yusuke only starts threatening because he doesn’t realize who hit him and once he does realize it's Takenaka, he immediately apologizes. That "old man" comes across as a teasing insult and Yusuke allows himself to be briefly dragged back towards school, rather than throwing a now classic punch. In turn, Takenaka cares enough about Yusuke to try and keep him on the straight and narrow. He utilizes Yusuke's preferred language — violence — but in a casual way, nonthreatening way: slight hit to the back of his head, noogie, pulling him along by the ear. 

It's the sort of physicality we're used to seeing in media between a parent and child who are outwardly antagonistic, but actually share a deep bond. Takenaka is also careful to frame their return to his office as a "discussion," not a punishment, and offers Yusuke tea along with the conversation. Whereas Iwamoto considers Yusuke to be a "weed" that should have been plucked from their school long ago, Takenaka is determined to help Yusuke bloom.

If we're continuing the flower metaphor :D

Yusuke isn't in the mood to play along though. He gets away by using a fake ear, startling Takenaka when it unexpectedly pulls free. Yusuke escapes the school grounds and Takenaka, suffering a back twinge from his fall, can't chase after him. Poor guy. I understand that pain lol.

Yusuke heads home where we're introduced to his mother, Atsuko. Most notable in her first shot is the soft lighting that highlights her looks. We're not told how old she is here, but I believe she's around 28 — and she looks it, if not younger. Given that Yusuke is 14, that means Atsuko was a mom at his age. This is a quick and subtle way to tell us about Yusuke's home life. There are more overt details in this scene — it's at least lunchtime and Atsuko hasn't left her bed yet, she demands that Yusuke make her coffee instead of greeting him, it's all meant to imply (before we actually see) that she's an alcoholic — but her age is another way to highlight the broken household here. There's no partner in sight and she clearly had Yusuke as a teenager. He hasn't had a strong parental figure to take care of him. If anything, Yusuke is taking care of Atsuko here.

"Oh great, mother of the year!" basically sums things up.

Atsuko wants to know why Yusuke isn't in school and he says that everyone is pissing him off today, particularly with their preaching. "Dear, if you hate preaching so much you should live on your own... but you can't do that, can you?" Alongside a rough upbringing, Yusuke is suffering from the common problem of being trapped in a dead-end life. He hates his school, his town, and coming home to find his mom hungover. Yusuke has no prospects and, outside of one principal, no one who is actively working to help him find some. Even the little things he hates, like being preached to, are unavoidable because if you want to live on your own, that requires money. Good luck pulling that off as a middle schooler whose only skill is street fighting!

Yusuke walks off in a huff, literally shouting in a street about what a bad day he's having (and hilariously scaring off pedestrians in the process). His shout brings trouble though. A couple guys appear to ambush him, their boss close behind. The music increases the tension, Yusuke's expression is serious, and we even get a Dutch angle thrown into the mix. 

For any who don't know, the Dutch angle is a popular film technique to establish that something is wrong. There's tension in the scene, something uneasy is at play, and the world is now literally off center. It's perhaps most famously used in Do The Right Thing to establish the friction between an Italian-American pizzeria and the predominantly African American neighborhood it's based in.

But it's also used a great deal in horror as a way to say: yup, shit just got real. Scary real.

This Dutch angle introduces a character you may not appreciate at first, but absolutely should: Kazuma Kuwabara.

He's initially the comic relief and that's clear in his introduction. Within seconds we move from that intimidating arrival to, well, seeing him. To be clear, I've got nothing against redheads with big chins, but compared to Yusuke's design, Kuwabara is meant to be the funny looking one. His threat level plummets the moment we get a look at his face, especially in a series that will occasionally use looks as a (supposed) measure of intelligence. 

Also, Kuwabara is dressed in light blue so, like Yusuke, we know he's important!

Any assumptions that his appearance isn’t meant to imply a goofy, embarrassing personality are put to rest when Kuwabara starts rambling about how they last time they fought Yusuke just got a cheap shot in and he'll definitely win this time. Yeah, he won't. Yusuke is thrilled by this diversion though and we get a shot of him looking almost as creepy as Keiko's friends think he is. Whatever else might be said about Yusuke, he is absolutely a monster in a fight.

Which we see here. If anyone picked up the series without knowing this was a fighting anime, they'll realize it now. Yusuke's choreography is stylized to show off his skill: he disappears with a 'whoosh' and dark lines to suggest inhuman speed,

attacking Kuwabara with a knee to the face, utilizes flying kicks, lands perfect, precision punches, and ends it all with the toe-tip landing we've come to expect of all powerful fighters. Kuwabara never even got a hit in. 

Happy as a clam now, Yusuke wanders off whistling and Kuwabara's friends are left to pick up the pieces. AKA, his likely broken bones. I love that they're legit friends though and not just nameless goons for the sake of giving Kuwabara a small gang (though their names won't come up until later). "That makes 0 wins an 156 loses!" one of them cries, trying to get Kuwabara to stop ending up in the hospital, probably. We establish that Kuwabara is The Most Dramatic Ever when he pulls his broken body into a seated position, shouting, "No! I almost had him that time!"

Then he passes out.

Kuwabara, honey, you obviously did not almost have him, but god bless you for the outlook. The most optimistic thing on this Earth is a well-loved Golden Retriever, but Kuwabara comes in at a very close second.

With his dream to one day beat Yusuke in combat established, we cut to Yusuke wandering the street where the episode opened. "Okay, I'm remembering" he says in a voiceover. "After that I met the kid."

The soccer ball reappears as it rolls to a stop at Yusuke's feet. He grabs it and immediately starts yelling at the kid. Horrible protagonist, right? Well, Yusuke is trying to instill in him the danger of using this street as a playground, a worry the viewer already knows is 100% justified. “Listen, kid, that’s dangerous! There are cars going by that will splatter you into the pavement!” It's one of those quick moments where we get to enjoy Yusuke's duality: he's someone who is nearly making a toddler cry, but for rather understandable reasons. He's got the right idea, but needs to go about it in a more mature manner.

Which is precisely what he attempts to do. Sort of. Yusuke changes gears, though whether it's a more "mature" route is certainly up for debate lol. He tries entertaining the kid instead, raising and lowering the soccer ball to reveal goofy faces.

When these fail to impress, Yusuke goes full out by stuffing the ball into his pants, pushing his nose up with a pair of chopsticks he got from god knows where, and generally just putting on a display.

So Yusuke cares very deeply about his reputation... but only when it comes to those who are an established part of his life. Keiko, Mr. Takenaka, and the other kids at school all need to maintain a particular image of Yusuke, one that he's carefully cultivated. But random pedestrians on the street? Who cares about them? Let them talk.

This shows us that Yusuke does indeed have priorities over his own, selfish goals. Namely, the happiness of some kid is more important to him than looking "cool" for a bunch of strangers. Lots of characters with Yusuke's surface attitude would sneer at the idea of degrading themselves for — their words — some brat. But Yusuke, as we constantly see, actually does have that heart of gold. “Well, if all else fails I can still make kids happy.”

Although... I'm not sure what to make of his display itself. I have the distinct sense that there's something prejudiced here that I'm not able to fully articulate, what with the chopsticks, slanted eyes, bald head, and the like, though to be entirely frank I don't have enough knowledge of Japan's history to say precisely what it might be. Or, really, whether it exists at all. Just something to chew on.

What I am sure about though is the importance of having the child label Yusuke as monster — "Yeah, monster! — but in a delighted manner. Yusuke is indeed some kind a monster, someone who disappoints adults and terrifies his classmates, a demon fighter on the streets too, but here that identity is reworked into something positive.

Having successful secured a laugh, Yusuke tells the kid — calmly this time — to go play elsewhere. The toddler stares up at him with the blank expression only kids can manage.

Well, kids and whatever headspace I'm in after writing these metas.

To absolutely no one's surprise except Yusuke's, the kid does not go elsewhere. Instead, he continues kicking the ball down the street, causing Yusuke to exclaim, “Dammit, what’s the use? The kid can get smashed by a car for all I care!” Liar, liar. 

The picture becomes desaturated as the kid kicks the ball and it flies into the street, time slowing down to show it landing precisely in the middle of the road. Yusuke again yells for him to stay put, but when has a toddler ever listened? He begins to walk into the road as our driver arrives, speeding, swerving, and paying more attention to the girl at his side than what's in front of him.

This time, we see the accident from the front with both Yusuke and the kid presented equally.

There's a cut to black and when we return we're in the present, Yusuke floating above the policemen now investigating the scene. “So that’s it? I’m roadkill?” As Yusuke realizes he's dead, specifically that he's a ghost, a voice goes,

"Bingo! Bingo! You win the prize!"

A woman has appeared who is quite obviously othered by the standards of the episode so far. Unlike the greens, blues, and browns of the series' modern clothes, she's dressed in hot pink kimono with blue hair to match. She's also, you know, floating on an oar.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly," she says, referring to Yusuke's revelation that he's dead. Apparently, those who meet unexpected and/or violent ends tend to take some time coming to terms with their demise. It's a nice acknowledgment of Yusuke's intelligence in an interaction that's otherwise... not great for his self-esteem.

Meaning, this woman is about to drag him lol.

She introduces herself as Botan, pilot of the River Styx and guider of souls to the afterlife. You might also know her as the Grim Reaper.

(Hey, RWBY fans: I originally wrote that as Grimm Reaper 🤦‍♀️)

It's an claim Yusuke takes issue with because 1. Botan is too pretty to be the Grim Reaper and 2. If she was really some god of death she'd be taking this much more seriously, not laughing and saying, "Bingo!" For the audience this does two things. First, it acknowledges our own expectations and validates them. Yusuke's world isn't so far removed from our own that he takes Botan's looks and personality at face value, he also expected a skeleton with a scythe. So don't worry, all the weird stuff in this series is weird to our protagonist too. They'll be explanations. Or, even if there’s not, you’re not wrong for being surprised. 

Second, it sets up the very common theme in YYH of undermining those common assumptions again and again and again. We've already seen it with Yusuke, wherein characters who look and act a certain way are, supposedly, destined to be that person and nothing more. Yusuke is meant to be just a "weed," a dumb, violent, angry loser who goes nowhere in life... but we already know he's more than that. Botan is supposed to be scary and serious, but she says nah, I want to be cute and bubbly instead. No character in YYH embodies who they're "supposed" to be when you look past those surface characterizations. They play the part of archetypes — and do keep certain parts of their expected personalities — but they're also far more well-rounded than that. Which yeah, is something most people expect from any story nowadays, but YYH is particularly adept at making you think you're watching Simple Show A only to turn around and surprise you with More Complex Show B.

It's great, trust me.

So Yusuke is pissed that Botan isn't adhering to those expectations, in the same way that he works hard to validate others expectations of him. He doesn't know how to deal with someone challenging his world view yet. Rather than angering Botan though, she just nods and says that this response makes sense for him. “Rather than being scared, or surprised, you yell a lot and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about." Taking out a notebook, she quickly summarizes everything we learned in the flashback — minus Yusuke's complexities: he's fourteen, in middle school, is ill-tempered, violent, hates authority, and is a horrible student.

Typically, Yusuke responds by getting angry and trying to snatch the booklet out of her hands, only for Botan to pull it out of his reach, laughing. The tables have turned! Rather than being surrounded by people who cower at Yusuke's imposed authority, he now finds himself faced with someone who laughs at his transparent attempts to take control of the situation.

Calming down, Yusuke wants to know if the kid he saved is really alright and Botan offers to let him see for himself. That offer produces Yusuke's first, genuine smile.

They fly to the hospital where a doctor is in the process of giving the kid a clean bill of health, his mother crying with relief. 

That's enough for Yusuke. “Alright, Botan, I’ve got no regrets, so you can take me to hell or wherever it is I’m going.”

That tells you all you need to know about Yusuke's self-worth, despite his bad boy attitude. His life is a dead-end as far as he can see and most of those around him haven't done anything to dissuade him of that idea. He says he doesn't care if the kid lives or dies, but then instinctively saves him. Post his death, Yusuke doesn't have anything he considers a regret, or anything he'd like to do before he leaves, like saying goodbye to a loved one. Oh, he's also pretty sure he's going to hell and has resigned himself to that without a fight.

Uplifting!

Botan just laughs though, saying that she's actually here to offer Yusuke an "ordeal" that could bring him back to life. See, he wasn't supposed to die today — let alone die saving a kid — and frankly they don't know what to do with him. It's another neat summary of what we've already learned: Yusuke is a far more complicated case than the afterlife assumed and now, when push comes to shove, deciding whether he belongs in heaven or hell is... muddled.

There's a fantastic story there about the problems with an afterlife that reduces a person's entire life to a few surface characteristics recorded in a book, refusing to acknowledge the context of their situation, or their capacity for change. “Run someone with your credentials a thousand times and they never would have saved a kid like that." Except, of course, Yusuke did save him, so those "credentials" are suspect, to say the least. However, YYH is not a story that explores these issues. Instead, I recommend you watch this!

Rather than being upset at the afterlife's low opinion of him (because let's be real, Yusuke shares it), he latches onto a little detail Botan let slip. If he wasn't supposed to die today... then was the kid?

Mmm... no. Actually, without the chaos of Yusuke jumping into the road, the driver would have swerved at the last second and the kid would have not only lived, but actually come out with one less scrape.

So Yusuke is obviously upset by this news! I would be too!! Holy shit, hang onto the "it's the thought that counts" message with everything you've got.

Also, don't think too much about the fact that the afterlife apparently knows exactly what will happen to people, down to how many cuts they accumulate in an accident. Also, don't think too much about where the afterlife foreseeing the crash begins and the unexpectedness of Yusuke interfering ends. That way lies madness. This will never come up again, so just let it go.

Sorry, 2013 me hijacked the post for a second.

As said, Yusuke is understandably upset by this revelation and as he fumes I'm reminded that this series likes to pull some amazing expressions.

Botan reiterates that it's all fine because Yusuke can come back to life. Weren't you listening? He should feel honored, in fact, considering that an offer like this only arrives every 100 years or so. Well, that explains why all of humanity isn't grappling with people coming back to life on the daily. One person every generation isn't going to cause much of a stir.

However, instead of jumping at the chance Yusuke announces that Botan is just like the teachers at school: she doesn't know what she's talking about. “You said yourself my life was kind of pathetic, right?” he says, going on to explain that everyone will be happier now that he's dead. His school won't have to deal with his behavior, Keiko won't have to nag him, and his mom will be able to party whenever she wants. It's a win-win for everyone involved. 

Hmm, this feels familiar. 

Don't worry, Yusuke doesn't need to experience a whole alternate reality to get the message.

“I’m sorry you feel that way at such an early age," Botan says and she is sorry, because despite her teasing nature that's a legitimately horrifying thing to believe. Yusuke won't budge though and after a little back-and-forth Botan leaves, telling Yusuke he should think it over while visiting his wake. She'll come back once he decides what to do.

“Do you have worms in your ears, lady? I did decide!” but Botan is long gone.

We cut to that night where Yusuke has indeed decided to attend his own wake. Maybe because of Botan's advice, maybe because he's just morbidly curious. We’re not given insight into the decision. 

Atsuko is a mess, to put it mildly, not dressed for the occasion and sitting slumped against the way, staring vacantly as the guests offer their condolences. Yusuke is surprised by the fact that his entire class is here, but quickly writes them off when he sees two of the boys laughing. I'm on the fence about this detail, which I'll unpack in just a second.

First though, Yusuke sees Keiko exiting the house, inconsolable in her grief. She collapses on the ground with her two friends trying to offer comfort, despite the fact that they had nothing good to say about Yusuke himself. Good on them.

Before he can think too long on this though, Yusuke is distracted by Kuwabara's arrival. Unlike Keiko's crying, he expresses his grief through yelling. Specifically, yelling at Yusuke. For dying. For daring to "run away." His own friends are physically holding him back as he charges into the wake, screaming, “Who am I gonna fight now, huh? Who am I gonna fight?" It's not really about the fighting, of course. At least, not the fighting alone. "You’re supposed to be here for me," Kuwabara finishes, the punch he's thrown at Yusuke's photo going limp and catching his first tear.

You know, for all the  goofy expressions, this show really is gorgeous. Just wait until we get to the fight animations.

Kuwabara's reaction is why I hesitate to write off the classmates like Yusuke has. Granted, we have no reason to believe that they care for him as Kuwabara does — they're nameless background characters defined only by their terror of "the great Urameshi" — but it's still a split second taken out of context. We don't know what they were laughing at, or if laughing is a part of their grief. God knows I personally laugh at the most inappropriate moments. If you tell me someone has just died there is a very good chance I will laugh awkwardly as I try to process that. It’s just a reflex. All of which I bring up not because these side characters are important, but because Yusuke's perception of his own worth is. The point of each of these moments is to show that those around him have always cared for him, even if Yusuke didn't notice. It's nice to think that extends to his classmates too. The variety likewise exists to show us how people grieve differently, with Kuwabara's friends not understanding that this is how he's working through the trauma: “This place is for mourning!” He is mourning, even if his way of mourning isn't as socially acceptable as Keiko's. So if screaming and throwing punches is valid, crying is valid, staring stoically in a drunk stupor is valid... why not laughter too?

Not likely, perhaps, but possible.

As an additional possibility to chew on, watching this premier again, it struck me how more emotional Kuwabara's scene is compared to Keiko's. Don't get me wrong, crying and calling Yusuke’s name gets the point across, but it's two seconds of generic grief compared to a much longer scene rife with intensity. When Kuwabara arrives the music swells and everyone is forced to pay attention to him. His grief is loud, violent, and given symbolism with his fist and the photo. There's more effort put into his reaction, frankly, so it wouldn't surprise me if fans started shipping them after this. That grief combined with an "enemies to lovers" possibility is a pretty potent mix. To be clear, Yusuke/Keiko is the (oh so obvious) canonical endgame and in the fandom Yusuke/Kuwabara can't compare to another slash ship that will turn up later, but this is a good example of how writers can craft some Very Gay Scenes without realizing it. When you have the girl crying prettily for a second and the guy absolutely losing his mind over Yusuke's death, questioning his purpose now, his support network, and then collapsing in grief... don't be surprised if your audience goes, "Oh hey, maybe they'd be a good couple instead."

But I digress.

The only people who are unquestioningly happy about Yusuke's passing are Mr. Iwamoto and his co-conspirator, Mr. Akashi. You know Akashi is another bad guy because he has bucked teeth and "ugliness" is an easy way to code for evilness. YYH is not immune to those mistakes :/

These two are really something else though, standing in the middle of a wake and claiming it's “too bad that car wasn’t big enough for them too," referring to Kuwabara and his friends. Wow! What stellar members of the academic community. Iwamoto goes on to say that Yusuke dying at least accomplished something good. Not, mind you, saving the life of a child, but rather looking good for their school's reputation. Akashi agrees, but says it's likely Yusuke only accidentally saved him while trying to steal the kid's lunch money. Remember, that accusation of theft is the one thing Yusuke has said outright that he does not do.

He's pissed listening to all this — wouldn't you be? — but knows by now he can't do anything about it. In another fantastic shot, Yusuke hovers his hand over Iwamoto's shoulder, desperate to grab him, when Takenaka's arrives there instead.

“What do you suppose is more disgraceful? That boy showing his misery, or your insensitive and idiotic words!”

HELL YEAH. You tell 'em, Mr. Takenaka.

Yusuke gets his third shock of the night at this passionate defense. Takenaka leaves the teachers to go pay his respects, but admits to Yusuke's picture that he just can't speak well of him. He was surprised to hear that Yusuke gave up his life for another and it's a fact that he acted selfishly. Though he doesn't say it in as many words, Takenaka explains that he's not grieving because Yusuke was a good person, but because it's so clear to him that he might have been. “Why didn’t you stay? You could have made something great out of yourself.”

Normally, "Why didn't you stay?" is just something for the living to grapple with, as the dead obviously don't have any say in what happens to them. But Yusuke does. It's here that the lighting grows soft again and Yusuke considers Takenaka's words. Keiko and Kuwabara grieve for who he was, but Takenaka grieves for who Yusuke could have been — someone that might still exist if Yusuke decides to undergo this ordeal.

Atsuko adds fuel to the emotional fire, breaking down and hiding her face in her knees.

Finally, the kid Yusuke saved arrives with his mother. Because yes, Yusuke saved him in every way that matters, considering no one else knows — or will know — that he'd have lived anyway. I like that the show doesn't allow that knowledge to undermine the emotion of their arrival, or what Yusuke’s act meant to them. 

The mom tells her son to pay his respects and the kid thanks Yusuke for saving him, and for "making faces." He clearly doesn't get what's going on here. This is confirmed as the two leave and he asks his mom if he can play with Yusuke again tomorrow. “I know some people sounded angry at him, but he’s really nice!" 

They're probably just crying because they want to play with him too, he thinks, which just makes his mom join in. Everyone is crying in this club tonight.

Those words are the cincher for Yusuke and with a brief montage of all the grief he's witnessed, he makes his decision.

We cut to later that night where Yusuke floats above the city, admiring the moon. Botan reappears and he asks, “Have you ever not known about something that seemed obvious to everyone else?” Yes, everyone has experienced that at one point or another. She asks if he's made his decision and Yusuke agrees to try and come back to life.

Emotional revelations out of the way, we're allowed another tone shift as Botan yells with joy, speeding off and causing Yusuke to grab hold of the end of her oar, lest he be left behind. Cranky as always, he demands to know where they're going. "To the spirit world, of course!" They're off to see someone who can explain the ordeal and give Yusuke the tool needed to complete it. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Thus ends our very first episode! Ah, the nostalgia. This is part one of a four arc series, with the anime cutting out a lot of the filler stories found at the start of the manga — a smart decision, I think. They primarily do the work of teaching Yusuke what he learned at the wake, so if you can accomplish that as quickly as the adaptation did, all the better. Especially since Yusuke needs to grow a great deal beyond the basic understanding that people might, sort of care for him, and that work will occur primarily through a job he's going to take on. The series isn't really about his death and it's not about an attempt to come back either — it's about what happens once you get that second chance. So this is the setup, but it's important setup all the same.

No need to skip ahead though. I've blathered enough for one recap. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when the writing gods next bless me with energy! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

[cloveroctobers]

LEVEL 1 — Perception

A/n: to make things easier due to my hectic work schedule...I’m deciding on writing blurbs or short fics for right now, to get content out in a timely manner. I’m open to writing pairings but I notice those don’t get that much attention but I’m attempting to do so anyways...at least at the start of this series which is absolutely inspired by we’re not really strangers. I love the game, it’s very personal and intense so if you have the chance, get it if you’re open to connecting with the people you care about in a passionate way. I’ve also decided to make the characters a little bit older...college wise/around the actors ages based on these questions lol even tho these teens are already dramatic + have a lot going on.

Synopsis: a interviewer that Spencer is very familiar with, Rochelle Mosley has resurfaced to complete her senior year project at Claremont as a journalist. Rochelle is all about going big and never going home, so the first person on her list is one of the guy’s that intrigued her the most not so long ago. So she reached out to Thee Spencer James and to put the word out to anyone else that might be interested. And here we are!

::: S. James + O. Baker ::: All to me

Rochelle is seen running her finger over her pearly whites, making sure they’re squeaky clean after eating her brunch which consisted of a poached egg, an açaí bowl, served with lemon water. She already spent twenty minutes brushing her teeth and whitening them last night to prepare for this moment. She knew this idea would guarantee her nothing but a A+. She had friends from the film department around helping her with the equipment and due to this Panasonic it made things chaotic opposed to having this interview face to face.

Rochelle knew that she could have at least met with Spencer for his half but decided to do what he was comfortable with. She wouldn’t push any boundaries...yet. Regardless it would have to be a video call since Olivia attended MassArt and appeared that she would not be coming back to California any time soon, according to her insta stories that is.

Nonetheless Rochelle knew how to negotiate so here she was working on their terms. With a sigh, she straightened out her posture, fixed the waves in her hair, reapplied some matte lipstick—again, glanced around her to make sure she liked her set up and eyed her friends to make sure they were doing what they were getting paid for, and plastered on a commercial smile as she connected the video call waiting on her two guests.

It only took a minute for Spencer’s face to pop in.

“Spencer!” Rochelle greeted which he replied with slight raised brows and a smile at her volume, “so glad you can be here and punctual at that.”

Spencer answered, “well you know, if I agreed to be something I don’t want to waste anybody’s time ya know?”

“Always the wise one aren’t you?” Rochelle commented before continuing on, “how are things? How is UCLA?”

“I really like it here, uh. I’m almost done with my sophomore year, but with the way things are looking right now? Might have to switch to remote this spring semester...we’re all basically on standby at the moment. It’s crazy times but we gon’ get through it, I know it.” Spencer chatted with ease.

Rochelle was multitasking looking to the side at her phone to keep track of time. Olivia Baker was five minutes late now, which was slowly working Rochelle’s nerves. The girl had her number and although they didn’t talk much through texts or through anything really, it was common courtesy to let someone know if you were going to be late or couldn’t make it.

“Yes! We have to keep a optimistic attitude as best as we can. I hope you’re being safe out there?” Rochelle met Spencer’s eyes, after silently debating if she should send Miss. Olivia a text.

Spencer dipped his head, “absolutely. And yourself?”

“Oh yes, honey. This thing is ruining lives unexpectedly but it’s insane to me that people believe this isn’t real. It’s the denial for me. Especially here in California! Then when they catch it, it’s suddenly a different tune. Sure the numbers might be a little questionable but not too much is a lie. Read the facts, do the research. But—

Olivia showed up. Eight minutes later...

Rochelle forced a smile, “Olivia Baker! How nice of you to join us.”

“I know, I know. I’m super late and I’m sure you don’t want to hear the excuses so let’s just dive right into this social experiment project thing you have going on. Sorry by the way.” Olivia rambled which Spencer chuckled at.

Olivia paused, “hey, Spencer.”

“Hey, Liv.”

Rochelle picked up on the chemistry or tension or whatever you want to name it. It was all still there and oh so fresh. She knew this would be good and knew they had to be the first on her list. Sure Rochelle maybe a year or two older than these two but she also had friends that were younger and gossipers like her so she always had the inside scoop when she needed it. So yes, she knew all about spelivia.

“How’s Boston?” Rochelle asked politely, breaking the two’s stare contest.

Olivia inhaled, “it’s better than California, that’s for sure. It feels like I’m getting a fresh new start and it’s just what I needed.”

“Yeah i see you’re at your best there. You seem to be thriving.”

“well yeah, because it’s new. Sometimes you need to get away, I mean I’ve been in California for eighteen years of my life. I always knew I wanted to be somewhere else...don’t get me wrong, California is still very much my home.”

Nice save there, Olivia.

Rochelle clasped her hands together with a wide smile after a small silence filled the air after Olivia’s statement.

“Moving right along, I’ve sent the both of you a series of questions that you both should have received correct?”

Spencer pulled the padded envelope from the side and waved it in front of camera. Rochelle smiled at how organized this guy was and shifted her glance to Olivia who widened her doe brown eyes.

“Ah, yeah I’ve got that. It should be around here somewhere? Hopefully. If it’s not then it’s definitely in the car.” Olivia pointed.

Rochelle sighed, “very well. Please proceed on retrieving the envelope, it’s crucial to this interview.”

Olivia scooted back from the desk and held up a finger as she disappeared from the screen. Rochelle turned back to the brown boy who was toying with the tan object.

“Have you read any of the questions, Spencer James?”

“I really haven’t had the time to, no.”

“Great!” Rochelle quipped, “this will make this experience truly authentic.”

Spencer thought about what was said, wondering where this would get him. He understood what Rochelle informed him in the email and she answered all of his questions. He knew this wouldn’t strictly be about him and Olivia since he invited his friends along for the ride as well.

“Please open the envelope as we wait on Olivia. BUT only read the first question on the first card, we don’t want you to get too far ahead of yourself since that wouldn’t be fair to Olivia.” Rochelle instructed while Spencer took a small inhale before doing so.

Spencer read over the card, his eyes flying over the words as he read them pretty quickly. He hummed at that which Rochelle began to question him on but Olivia announced her presence.

“I’ve got it!” She let out in a sang-song voice.

“Olivia, please open the envelope but only read your first card’s question. Spencer has already done so while we were waiting for you,” Rochelle instructed before turning back to the sophomore, “Spencer, whenever you’re ready please read the question and answer.”

How would the person closest to you describe you in three words?

Olivia halted as she pulled out her own card as Spencer showed the card while reading it from the side.

“I’d think they would say I’m...compassionate, hardworking, and...loving?” Spencer announced, taking his time on thinking that over.

It was Rochelle’s turn to hum as she asked, “Do you agree with his choices, Olivia?”

Olivia was confused. “W-what?”

“Would you say Spencer is: compassionate, hardworking, and loving?”

Olivia quickly recovered, “we don’t know if Spencer is referring to me on that question.”

“Spencer, when answering this question who are you saying is the closet person to you?”

“I—uh—I consider a handful of people that are close to me.” Spencer expressed, “but I’d be lying if I didn’t say Olivia isn’t the first person that came to mind. Even though there’s a shift right now in our...relationship due to the distance—among other things...we’re still the closest and that speaks for itself.”

Rochelle gave a smug smile as she looked at Olivia who opened and closed her mouth. Before Rochelle could encourage Olivia to read her question, she already went forth after clearing her throat a few times.

What reality show do you think I’m most likely to binge watch? Explain.

Olivia peered up at Spencer.

“Oh? I’m supposed to answer this about her now? Aight. Lemme see...i don’t know you seem to find a lot of free time to watch things...maybe it’s a film major thing? Months ago you were watching ‘I love New York, then you told me you and Simone were watching ‘Love is Blind’ or—

“It was actually ‘married at first sight’.” Olivia cut in.

Spencer widened his eyes and pointed at the screen with a small laugh, “that makes sense.”

“Why?” Rochelle wanted to know.

Spencer’s answer was firm, “that’s not our business to tell.”

Rochelle scribbled a quick note on that, ruling these two out on that question to ask later. She made sure to circle Simone’s name and put a question mark next to it.

“To answer your previous question,” Spencer redirected the interview back, “since a lot of these were love reality shows...I know that’s not the only genre you watch and you listen to a lot of podcasts. So I’m gonna say this show called, ‘alone.’”

Olivia blinked.

Rochelle waved her hands as she signaled for one of her friends to find the show on the laptop they were on, “have you watched this show, Spencer? And please elaborate on why you chose this show for Olivia?”

“No I haven’t. I only saw the trailer for it randomly when I was on YouTube watching lebron’s greatest moments clips.” Spencer replied earning a snort from Olivia and a eye-roll from Rochelle, “I picked that show because Liv feels that way, always. Like she’s never been seen before, truly seen. And this show tests these guys to survive on their own in the wilderness, putting not only their bodies but their minds through a lot. It’s mainly about survival that much I gained from the trailer. Liv’s always been a loner for as long as I’ve known her and feels that’s how she knows how to survive by doing it all on her own when she doesn’t have to. I see that and I understood that from my first day at Beverly.”

...

#all american #spelivia #Spencer James #Olivia Baker #all american cw #spencer x olivia

[atlas-tries]

Shatter Me Chapter 3: Shatter Me

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Summary: Patton finds a painful memory and Janus has a vision. Will it be enough to thwart the outcomes that await?

Notes: Redundant, no? Not gonna lie, fam, it's about to get to the darkest point. Trigger warnings for character death.

“Patton, are you sure you aren’t a hoarder?” Virgil asked, pushing aside a mountain of plushies where he had been unfortunate enough to land. This was the first time the anxious side had been in Patton’s room since he moved to their part of the Mindscape (also the first time he had ever been to Patton’s room) and Patton was beside himself to have him here.

“Absolutely! I just like to keep a few sentimental things around to look at when I’m feeling down,” Patton replied. “But I guess it uh, wouldn’t hurt to clean up a little. Gotta make room for more memories, right? I actually have the energy to do it now!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a lopsided grin. “Wait, what? You, not having the energy to do something? How’d that happen?”

“Ah right, you weren’t here for uh … all of that. Let’s just say I was recovering from an injury I got several months ago,” Patton said, instantly noting the worried change in Virgil’s expression. “Hold on, it’s alright, I’m alright now, see?” He lifted his shirt to showcase the few tiny cracks that remained. “I’m almost completely healed. Logan even gave me his seal of approval!” He pulled out a little medallion with Logan’s bespectacled brain signet on it. “See?”

Virgil breathed out a visible sigh of relief. He shook a finger at Patton. “Awesome,” he said, his voice cracking a little at the end.

“Alright, so you said you were looking for …” Patton started.

“… this one angsty poem Thomas wrote in high school. I thought I’d uh, spice the ruminating up a little when Thomas heads to bed tonight,” Virgil replied. “No better way to fall asleep than thinking about everything that’s gone wrong or that will go wrong, am I right?”

Patton smiled. “Sure, kiddo, as long as they’re balanced with happier thoughts during the daytime! Let’s see, I think what you’re looking for is over here.” He ran toward his version of the staircase that was piled high with boxes and other larger memorabilia that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelf. He glanced through a few of them, perking up a little when he came to the box on the fourth stair. “I think this is it!” He grabbed the box and ran back to Virgil.

“Keep them as long as you need them,” Patton said with a smile. He handed it over to Virgil, who nearly doubled over from the weight of the things inside. Virgil choked out a thanks and quickly sank out.

“Well, that’s one box temporarily dealt with. Now, about the rest of this marvelous mountain of memories …” Patton, though he would never outrightly admit it, didn’t like moving things around very much. It filled him with dread just thinking about moving something somewhere he would inevitably forget about it. Maybe it would be better to start smaller? He looked around for somewhere less cluttered to start. Finally, his eyes landed on the overflowing box labeled New Memories. “That’ll do for now.” He took the box carefully upstairs to his bedroom and got to work sorting its contents.

In around half an hour, everything was categorized into neat little piles that could be easily transferred to other more fitting storage spaces. Patton began collecting everything from the Friends and Coworkers pile and carried them to his dresser. The top drawer was for everything related to Joan. Admittedly, this one was getting a little bloated from all the fun stuff they and Thomas had ever done together. Still, Patton managed to find space for the newer memories in the crevices that remained. The rest made their way into their respective drawers, packed in tightly with all the rest of them.

Patton closed the drawers, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. “Perfect!” he said. Now all that was left was to take the box back to his version of the living room. He picked the box up and startled when it hissed at him. Something was still in there. He peeked into the box at the thing that had just slid toward him, an upside-down picture frame from the looks of it. Steadying the box with one hand, he reached in and flipped it over.

The last memory he had of Thomas’s now ex-boyfriend stared up at him from the bottom of the box.

His hands trembled a little as he stared at this frighteningly still image. “Nope nope nope, not today,” he said, closing the box and walking as quickly as he could to put it back where it belonged. Despite ridding himself of the visual, this memory was still going to make itself heard in the only way it knew how. Patton clutched at his chest hard and the box crashed to the living room floor. “N-not again …”

He sat down on the stairs a moment to regain control of his breathing. Searing lines thrummed in time with his heartbeat, dulled but not forgotten. This was another reason why he never bothered to clean up: too much of a chance to reopen old wounds. Patton rose with a wince to get that recording of the Rainforest Rap. That song always helped cheer him up. He kept the song on repeat until he felt some semblance of normalcy again.

For the rest of the week, Patton lay awake during the nights, praying that the darkness would somehow take away the memories that hurt him so. It, as many spectral entities do, provided no such reprieve. Certainly not enough to quell the ache settling further into his core as the days passed. Taking liberties in his duties here and there made things far more manageable. Just yesterday, Patton suggested Thomas indulge in a half a pack of Oreos and he listened. The day before, he had come thiiiiiis close to getting an actual bouncy castle! And today, Patton had one little plan he thought everyone would jump for (but not in a bouncy castle).

If everything went according to Patton’s plan, they would spend the next 48 hours rewatching The Office in a blanket fort with Thomas’s closest friends. They could all use a break right about now, what with Roman steamrolling through coming up with new concepts, Logan pulling all-nighters researching for new videos, and Virgil making sure everyone was staying on time with Logan’s schedule. He couldn’t wait to see how everyone else liked this idea! He was already out the door and nearly to the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from the living room below.

“—not seriously thinking of going along with this latest plan, are you? I have far too much to plan if we’re to keep this project at its utmost quality!”

Patton stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.

“I know, Roman, I’m concerned about this, too. We’re woefully behind schedule as it is,” Logan added. “If we don’t do something about this, my carefully constructed calendar will collapse under the weight of his impulse decisions.”

“But how are we even supposed to bring that up to him? He’s been acting weird all week, I know,” Virgil bit, “but you know how Pat takes these things, L.” Patton bit his lip to keep from making noise as the cracks grew once more.

“The best way to do that is to do like you said earlier Virgil, rip it off like a metaphorical Bandaid. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.”

So. Patton had gone overboard these past few days with his contributions.

How many other times had he put the other sides in this exact same situation? They were all supposed to be in this together. Weren’t they …?

There was only one way to fix this. Fixing his cardigan and his expression, Patton plodded heavily down the stairs to announce his arrival. “Hey kiddos! Oh, good, you’re all here together, that’ll save me a few trips back upstairs,” he said cheerily.

“Don’t tell us, Padre, you have another idea?” Roman asked. His smile looked so forced.

“Kinda! So I was just thinking that since we are so behind schedule, a 2 day binge-fest might not be the greatest idea I’ve come up with. So instead of that, how about we work on this next concept together tonight?”

Jaws all around the room dropped. “Wait, what? I thought …” said Virgil, looking to the others.

Roman picked up where Virgil left off, “Patton, I believe that’s the best idea you’ve had all week!” He stepped closer. “How shall we go about it? At the dumb boring regular table here, or at the Round Table in the Imagination to help stimulate all the best thoughts?”

“Hmm, that’s intriguing, Roman. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep track of all our thoughts on paper,” Logan added.

“Hey Logan, I guess you say it’s a …” Patton started.

Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Virgil snickered.

“… well-Round-ed idea,” said Patton.

Virgil and Roman couldn’t help smiling watching this play out. Logan groaned. “I will ignore that this one time because you made a worthwhile effort to get us back on schedule, but I do hope that you’ll spend a little more time thinking about what words you want to arrange in a sentence. And make them less … pun-filled.”

“I’ll try not to have too much pun, but I can’t make any promises!” Patton said.

Logan said nothing further, opting instead to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. “I’ll uh, go with him and we’ll get everything set up in the Imagination,” said Roman, running after him.

“Well, I guess that just leaves you and me, kiddo! Whaddaya say we make some snacks for everyone? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today!”

Virgil nodded. “As long as I can spit on something meant for Roman,” he said.

“I’ll let you have the cookie batter bowl,” Patton replied.

“Deal.”

Between the two of them, Patton and Virgil were able to make somewhat quick work of a heaping plate of hot cookies and several plates of sandwiches for everyone to enjoy. Sure, they may have gotten more flour and other assorted foodstuffs on them than into the finished products on the counter, but it was the fun they had doing it that mattered. Both of them decided that it would be best to change out of their dirty clothes before carrying everything into the Imagination.

Patton sunk into his version of the kitchen, which was considerably more cluttered than the common area kitchen. He stepped over a few stray memories before making it into the clearer living room. That was when he noticed Deceit sitting on his couch worrying his gloved hands. Softly, Patton called out, “Dee?”

Deceit startled and turned quickly to see Patton. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat and brushing down the front of his cloak, “you certainly didn’t sneak up on me.”

“What brings you back to my neck of the ‘burbs?” asked Patton.

Deceit stood from the couch. “We’re just getting so well acquainted that I thought I’d stop by for tea— and to give a warning. I know they’ve been growing again.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I guess I can’t really hide this from you. But you should know, this time—”

“It’s not their fault, I’m well aware. But doesn’t this make it the best time to tell them? The pressure is off. You don’t even have to tell them in a direct way!” Deceit said, taking Patton’s hands in his own. His eyes were alight with worry. “You just need to tell them.”

“I know I need to, but … it’s so hard to do. I’d be hurting them, I know I would.”

Deceit looked down and sighed. He brought his gaze quickly back up to Patton’s, staring with an intensity that Patton had never seen from him before. “You need to tell them,” he whispered slowly. “I saw something on the horizon. Something bad. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t want that vision to be about you.”

That was a bit startling. Patton knew it wouldn’t get that far, but … could it? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them.” That earned him a split-second smile from Deceit.

“That’ll do, Patton. That’ll do. What in the world is on my gloves?” Deceit said, sinking out.

“Cookie dough!” Patton called after him. “And probably some mayo. Oh, he probably didn’t hear me. Now what was I doing again? Oh yeah, clothes, brainstorming, Imagination!” He quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to get changed and emerged from his room less than a minute later and grabbed what food Virgil hadn’t. Maybe if he busied himself enough, he would be able to forget Deceit’s visit. He wouldn’t think about the panic behind his crumbling facade, or the thinly veiled pleas he made.

But that would all be a lie. Something had him deeply troubled, and when Deceit was the one giving out a warning in earnest, it bode better to listen. But how to go about it? Patton sighed. “Alright, Patton, let’s just focus on getting to the others right now,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the others, and about castles, knights, and everything that made Roman happy.

When he opened them again, he was in the Imagination.

Or rather, he was in a field in the Imagination, right in front of Roman’s towering castle. It was a perfect amalgamation of Gothic architecture and pure Disney magic that made Patton’s nostalgia meter burst through the roof. He ran through the front gates with appropriate gusto and was thrilled to see the others there around the table already, quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Ah, Patton, we were starting to think you forgot how to get here again. Come, let us formally begin this brainstorming bash!” Roman said cheerily.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton squealed, trying to sound as normal as possible. He set down the cookie platter and took a seat in the high-backed chair with his new symbol on it.

“First things first, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page before we begin,” Logan said, summoning papers for all of them. “In order to maximize our output, Roman, Virgil, and I have decided to remove some of the thought filters from the castle for this session. This means that any particular thought, if it’s focused enough, will manifest in here for all of us to review. According to my own independent research, this should boost our productivity by 42% with a .03% margin of error.”

Patton’s eyes widened a little. He really didn’t want to interrupt their work, but this new system would definitely cause problems if he didn’t come clean now. So, Patton gathered every last bit of gumption that he had and shouted, “I have a confession to make!”

The others backed up a little, startled that Patton could be so loud, but quickly recomposed themselves. “Go ahead, Patton,” said Logan, straightening his tie.

Patton thanked him, doing his best to not squirm in his seat. He knew they wouldn’t react well, but maybe saying it now would keep thoughts about it from popping up later. “I uh, wanted to get this out of the way before we get down to business. But um … I think I might be breaking again.”

“Come again?” Virgil asked.

Patton slid the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal several deep fissures. “These things. They’re growing again,” he said. “Started earlier this week. I just didn’t want that popping up without warning and ruining our work. Anyways, um, what ideas are we working with here, Roman?”

“Wait, breaking? Like, breaking breaking? Oh God, Patton, are you dying? You’re dying, aren’t you? Oh God, no! What stops death?! Logan?!” Virgil cried frantically.

Patton quickly said, “Virgil, Virgil, breathe, I’m not dying. In for four seconds, there you go, hold it for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Out for eight. Good job, keep it up.”

Logan got out a pen and notepad. “Again? And you say they started earlier this week? Do you remember which day it was?” he asked.

“The day I started cleaning up my room. Uh, what day was that again?” Patton said, still doing his best to softly coach Virgil back down to a calmer state.

“Padre … I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets about this,” said Roman. The hurt look he gave to Patton about killed him where he sat.

“It wasn’t so much a secret as it was an ‘I-got-a-little-busy-and-kept-forgetting’ kind of thing. I never meant to keep it from you, any of you,” Patton replied. A tiny, glowing orb dripped from Patton’s chest. A thought. He pushed it down between his hand and the seat to trap it, knowing that it would unveil his lie. For good measure, he slung a leg over his hand.

“You were cleaning that day…” Logan mused. “I may have some theories that explain this phenomenon, though it is currently up to speculation. Allow me to elaborate. Patton, it seems that stressing yourself beyond your limits could potentially be the cause of this. You have certainly been going out of your way with your work this week. I believe we all recall the … bouncy castle idea. This could be leading to a lack of self-care needed to perform adequately.”

Patton nodded slowly with as real a smile as he could muster. “Yyyyyeah, that could be it,” he said, shoving down another treacherous thought as it popped out. It brought up memories of all the passing comments Logan made about his character.

“Uh, Pops? Whatcha … doin’ over there?” Virgil asked.

Patton stiffened. “Nothing, just, uh … Practicing a new kind of exercise?” Another one flitted out, pointing to being too overbearing with Virgil. “Hey, is that a dragon coming up to the castle?”

Everyone turned to look while Patton conjured a slingshot, flung that icky thought out the other window. and recaptured the one that had come out from beneath his leg.

“No, that’s a tapestry, Padre. It literally couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to,” Roman said. “Not that I would ever let it!”

Patton smiled. “You’re my hero, Roman,” he said.

Roman blushed a little to that. “Aw, Pat,” he gushed.

Another thought came up, a memory of a time Roman had taken him on one of his adventures. He had wanted to tend to a little wounded animal they came across and nearly got them killed because of it. Patton clapped his hand painfully over his heart to keep that one from surfacing. With a whimper and a slight grimace, he replied, “I mean it, Ro.”

Virgil was getting extremely antsy where he sat. “Okay, um … This is weird, right? Like, this just feels wrong.”

“Virgil has a point, you are behaving rather strangely, Patton,” said Logan. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”

With the focus being on what started this, another memory surfaced. The one that had started it again. Patton tried to bite that one as it meandered past. Curse these full hands! He missed by a mile, leaving it to float effortlessly to the center of the table.

“A thought?” Logan said. “Unconventional, but it’s an intriguing choice.”

It began to play. Patton was in his room, sorting through the new memories box. The last few were being tucked away. It skipped to him looking back in the box to see what was left. It showed him, holding the picture. Him, clutching his chest. Him, stumbling to the floor. As if on cue, the cracks thrummed in recognition. Thank goodness he already had a hand over them because it almost took his breath away. The memory evaporated, leaving the others to simply look with jaws slightly agape.

Patton could only look down at the table. These old wounds were reopening in the worst of ways, and now his closest friends would find out the truth. Logan finally broke the silence. “So, that’s how it happened.”

Patton nodded wordlessly.

“This was months ago,” Logan said.

“It was a busy time for me,” Virgil added. “Switching from everything Thomas did wrong to worrying that Thomas will never find love again got to be so exhausting.”

“I admit even I became a bit disheveled by his absence,” Logan said, looking down.

“I nearly ducked out over this. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Patton,” said Roman.

Patton still couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew there were pent up tears threatening to fall if he did. “It … it was hard … and seeing a reminder of it …” he whispered.

Logan sighed. “I believe your best course of action is clear,” he said. “You simply need to let the past be the past.”

“But … what about all of the good times we had with him? I don’t want to leave them behind,” Patton said softly.

“Patton, these memories are physically hurting you. I can’t understand why you would rather suffer endlessly instead of just letting one person go.”

You’re too sentimental to save yourself from dying.

Patton’s face contorted and a small whine escaped his throat. Those insidious cracks lengthened once more, each one feeling like a knife tracing its way through his skin.

Roman stood abruptly. “Now look what you’ve done, Quantum of Soulless!” Roman cried, motioning to Patton. Logan rose from his seat, trying to get a better look from across the table.

“Roman …” Patton lightly scolded. “Pl-please be nice.”

Roman huffed. “Sorry. What I mean is this situation needs a bit more delicacy than Logan’s robotic demeanor could ever hope to provide.” Roman walked over to Patton and put a hand gently on his arm. Logan was making his way over, too, notepad in hand. “Now Padre, you know how much I came to you when this was all fresh. We did our best to hold each other up, but even now, I still feel lost. I can’t tell you how much I yearn to have our beloved return, or how much I want to call him after all this time.”

Patton sniffled a little, putting his hand over Roman’s and leaning his head against his arm. “I know, I want him back too,” he said.

“I think we all do. But I think it might also be time to start boxing up some of those old memories. We can even help you start!” Roman said. Virgil shook his head. Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can help you start.”

“But I don’t want to forget … I wouldn’t even know where, or how, to start. We had so many good memories together that I don’t want to lose,” Patton blubbered.

“I know it’s difficult, but we aren’t children anymore, Padre. I know the relationship ending was for the best and I’ve been striving every day to remain strong. I also know that you wouldn’t be leaving everything behind if you do the adult thing and let the ghosts of the past go.”

You’re too naive to understand what needs to be done.

Patton doubled over, groaning as the cracks split further down his limbs and up his neck. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he could taste the coppery twang of essence. He felt another wary hand on him. “P-Pops?” came Virgil’s wavering voice. “I… Thomas was being too overbearing. That wasn’t your fault!”

YOU were being too overbearing. YOU were what drove him away.

Patton cried out in agony as his skin split down to his fingertips and over his face to the top of his head. Small chips of skin were beginning to fall away with tiny tinks as they hit the floor, displaying the bright blue beneath. He could feel the front of his shirt begin to dampen.

“I don’t get it! We’re trying to help, why isn’t this working?” Virgil cried. “Why are they getting worse?!”

Logan came up to Patton, attempting to lean him back with utmost care. “Perhaps just talking about the subject of his pain is what’s causing them to worsen,” he said. As soon as he looked at the frail fatherly side, his demeanor changed. “Virgil, get a first aid kit. Roman, help me lay him on the table. Now!”

The others, at first too stunned to move, burst into action as quickly as they could. Patton screamed as they repositioned him on the table, hyperventilating from the pain. “Hang in there, Padre, please hang in there!” came Roman’s muffled voice. Logan was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He mouthed something to him. Patton felt something glide across his skin from his navel to his neck. Wait, when did Logan get scissors? And where was his shirt? And why did the others look so horrified? Those questions seemed inconsequential to the truth staring down at Patton, demanding he tell it.

“It w-was my fault,” Patton croaked.

Logan started threading a needle. Virgil was carding his fingers through Patton’s hair anxiously. Roman looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What are you talking about?” asked Roman.

“Th-the breakup,” Patton replied. Warmth was trickling down over his ribcage and soaking his back. “A-and everything e-else.” Logan tried his best to stick the needle through solid skin, but it just chipped further. Patton coughed, a bit of blue making its way past his lips.

“Everything else? Patton, you’re not making sense,” Logan said, trying the same thing again with the same result.

Patton whimpered, “I-I know that I’m always … messing th-things up. I forget s-so much … I kn-know that you think I’m t-too sentimental t-to do my job. Th-that I’m too … naive t-to see the truth right in … front of me. That I’m s-so over … o-overbearing that I drove him away. If it w-weren’t for … all of you t-to rein me in … I-I’d make Thomas into a… w-worthless mass of a man.”

You are worthless.

“C-Compression. Let’s try compression,” Logan said.

“Pat … is this … is this what caused all of this?” Roman asked. His eyes shimmered.

“You can’t seriously think that,” Virgil said, his hands becoming shaky.

Patton cried as Logan pressed firmly in the center of his chest. More fragments broke free and with them, Logan’s hands went straight through into Patton’s chest. Patton nearly passed out. Logan quickly withdrew his hands.

“Ohhhh my God, oh my God, Logan, what did you do?!” shouted Virgil. “What do we do now?!”

Patton coughed violently, essence spluttering from his lips in a steady stream.

Logan could only stand there, frozen in horror, staring at his blue hands.

“Logan?!” Roman cried.

“I … I don’t know …” came Logan’s voice, barely above a whisper. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You can’t die on us, Patton, please, we need you!” Virgil sobbed.

Roman grasped Patton’s hand delicately. It began to shatter like porcelain barely held together. Despite the jagged edges, Roman still lifted it to his cheek, holding on like it was the only anchor in a violent sea. “Y-you’ll … all be … alright … without me … Just … p-promise me … y-you won’t … blame yourselves …” Patton gasped.

He couldn’t hold it together when bigger pieces of him began breaking away from the rest of his body. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t see. But still, his mouth made the words.

“I… l-love… you.”

With a final shuddering breath, he was gone.

---

Janus knew that meddling with what his foresight told him never aided the outcome.

He knew this, but he tried anyway.

It wasn’t that he particularly liked Patton. He found him to be overly saccharine and ridiculously optimistic in the face of surefire doom, not to mention he stood by socks and sandals as a fashion choice. However, things always seemed to run smoother in the Mindscape with the fatherly side around. Someone had to be there to tend to the others and moderate their senseless bickering, he supposed. How would anyone get any sleep otherwise? And Patton wasn’t one to pass judgement when he was caught alone. Perhaps his near-blind acceptance was what endeared Janus to him in the first place.

Whatever the case, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to go through like it wanted to. He could never determine much from these visions. Just … feelings. Notions. The occasional coherent thought. This most recent one should’ve been par for the course. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. And there was nothing else around but the pain, searing a fiery blue, and those three intrepid words.

I love you.

A swan song if there ever was one. And now, standing here amongst the shadows outside Roman’s castle, he knew the swan had sung.

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account

#atlas writes #patton angst #sanders sides angst #shatter me #patton sanders #character death tw #are y'all ready to stone me to death yet? #shatter me story

[juupajaa]

💍Honeymoon phase:

Honestly honeymoon phase is something else. I wish there were more studies done on this whole thing bc it is so wild and honestly if I ever become a cool science gal, I will do this research myself. I’m pretty sure honeymoon phase is the whole root of why recovery is so hard and this is definitely the most cruel and twisted stage of eating disorders, even if it’s not the one that causes the most mental and physical suffering.

Ok so now your ed/de has latched onto you and it has a bitching strategy: make you feel like it is helping you. 

In honeymoon phase, your disordered eating is working full time to make you feel better and in turn you are doing whatever it asks of you, in order to feel better. You are “willingly” taking part in disordered behaviour, and it feels like it is working. And you aren’t wrong, it probably is. There’s a good chance your behaviour is causing things to actually improve for you. Some might get compliments for their weight loss or attempts to eat healthier. Others might get more motivated to perform well and get praise from that. For some the new fascination is enough to make things feel better. 

This is the part where your disordered eating is forming into the special cocktail, tailored just for you and your current needs. You try things out and see what works to ease your discomfort. Your de hasn’t fully shifted into a full blown ed yet, but by now it’s on it’s way if it is to come. Your behaviour isn’t the same forever though. It might change along the course of the illness or the events in your life, and if you relapse at some point in your life, your ed/de might be very different from the last time.

In my life, I’ve had four episodes with my ed and each time the behaviour was very different and usually it evolved from one thing to another during the episode, but mostly revolving around one thing. First time I was counting calories like my life depended on it and it evolved into purging over time. Second time was a big ole binge-purge galore, but it had a twist of five consecutive days of starving between binging and purging. Third time I was mainly restricting, but it evolved into food hoarding with a single item diet. Fourth time it was starving and insane food rituals, which evolved into uncontrollable binges. Each of these episodes happened years apart and they went through the stages independently. 

Yet every damn time I fell for this shit like I didn’t know better. The first time, sure, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but the second time? I was thinking: Oh, no I’m not gonna get into an ed again. I’m just throwing up a little, that’s all. The third time: Oh yeah, I’m not getting sick again, I just really like to hoard food. I’m not gonna eat any of it, but wow would you look at all this food! Fourth time: Yup, this time I got it. I’m gonna lose some weight and not be an idiot about it.

My point is that the honeymoon phase is so damn good, that even if you are fully aware that this might and will end badly, you’re going to go along with it, because it is working and you can’t deal with whatever is going on in your life right now. Here are some things you might experience during the honeymoon phase: 

an increased interest/concern/fascination with food/your looks/nutrition

a sense of having a new hobby, interest, skill or even personality or a friend or a life-style

being in a better mood when you get to engage in your behaviour, and getting irritated or upset if you can’t for whatever reason

your days start to revolve around food, but it’s still manageable

seeking a sense of control, pride, accomplishment, pleasure or satisfaction from engaging in disordered behaviour

you start seeking out information about food/nutrition/weight loss more or less daily, maybe even get lowkey obsessed with it (I used to have a folder on my laptop, full of pictures of food that I would just stare at every day and I dedicated a lot of time in updating and keeping it in order. Hi, my FBI agent, why u didn’t help me out dude?)

During honeymoon phase, you get all the perks of an ed, without the suffering part and it is pretty rosy, not gonna lie. Whatever was worrying you so much before, it’s easier to handle. It feels like you’re doing ok, maybe even good, but at least better than before. You might feel like you’re in complete control of your behaviour and that it isn’t affecting you negatively at all. This is of course false.

The key element of honeymoon phase is that sweet, sweet denial. Some might go full blown actual denial, not even entertaining the thought that this is an ed/de. It might feel like a conscious change in lifestyle and since it isn’t hurting you just yet, it is easy to think so. Others might get something called optimism bias, which is very common among people in general. A common example of optimism bias is that we don’t think car accidents will happen to us. To others sure, but not to us. In the case of optimism bias in an ed/de, you might be fully aware that this isn’t exactly normal and you probably shouldn’t be doing these things, yet the rewards you get from your behaviour are good enough for you to dismiss your concerns. You might even be fully aware that this is disordered behaviour and you might know all about the health risks, yet you are convinced bad things won’t happen to you because you are “not really sick”. Again, false. You are sick and this is how eds/de are. I repeat: Yes you back there, thinking you’re not really sick, just a fake fraud who wants to lose some weight but are too lazy to do it healthily. Trust me, if you were healthy, you’d be losing weight like healthy people do. Your disordered eating is keeping you from doing it, making your relationship with food too complicated for you to lose weight by the books. Same goes for you, dude in the back, thinking you just really love food and it’s normal to hide your eating habits from others out of shame or guilt. It isn’t normal.

Another thing that might happen is that you develop an interest in eds. You start seeking out information and media, anything you can find. You might feel insecure about yourself and wish you could change yourself as quick as possible, convinced that it won’t lead to an ed, because you need to be something special in order to have an ed. This is all normal disordered thinking and don’t feel badly if this was you in your honeymoon phase. You didn’t bring your problems to yourself, even if it feels like it. People without disordered thought patterns don’t actively try to mimic eds. They get bored or tired of it after the first few days or weeks.

What is so cruel and twisted about the honeymoon phase is that it lures you in with promises of better quality of life, hooking you in and making you give your disordered thought patterns time to cement themselves properly. Yet once honeymoon is over, your quality of life will start to sink back down, getting possibly much worse than what it was before your disordered behaviour. And not only that, it also makes you doubt you are sick at all, because you “actively took part in it, so it must have been willful and conscious”, which too is false. It is such a cunt and I hate this bitch so much. 

After the honeymoon phase, if your de will turn into an ed, it will, and if not, you might fall into a disordered eating cycle, and I will talk more about it in the next stage. While you can fall back from all the rest of the stages from this point on, honeymoon phase is something you can’t really ever return to during your current ed. Honeymoon requires you to be in some level of denial and once you slip out of denial, you can’t really fall back into it. This is of course very unfortunate for all of us, because this is the only point where our coping mechanism is actually helping us cope.

The good news is that this is still a very early stage of an ed/de and recovery is still rather quick and painless at this point. Should your situation improve and your coping mechanism to become useless, you might kind of just slip out of the de without any trouble at all. Or in case of other’s getting involved in the situation, the treatment is very effective, since your disordered thought patterns aren’t too strong. Yet. 

[lemonjoonah]

I tend to ramble, so excuse the excessive amount of words. I’m- struggling to find the right words to express how much I adore your writings. ( maybe the right word could’ve been hooked? Or maybe enthralled? 😂🙊) I stumbled onto your tumblr page and now after binge reading everything!! I’m patiently waiting for an update, while that’s happening, it seems I’ve gotten the guts to ask a question. Do you have any writing tips for beginners?

Thank you so much 😊. You don’t ramble at all, if anyone tells you that you ramble reply by saying you’re simply building suspense 😂.

I’ve only been writing for a year and a bit myself, I have no formal writing training, but I would be happy to tell you what I’ve learned so far! 

Quick question to start off are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you plot your stories and chapters before you start writing or are you a panster who develops their ideas as they write? Depending on how you develop your ideas you might find that somethings work, while others don’t, there is no right or wrong way it’s just what works for you. 

Personally I am a plotter, a very heavy plotter. Some of my tips might not apply to your style and that’s okay, everyone’s different and I’m sure you’ll find your own way of going about it! There are a couple things that I find apply to both groups, so I’ll go into those first before I start covering more specific things. 

One of my favourite authors has a piece of advice that I will never forget. “Write for yourself” - V. E. Schwab. People aren’t that different, as long a you like your story others probably will too. If you try to cater to others before yourself you might find it difficult to write and your story might lack the uniqueness that is you. For example, in Artificially Inclined I was debating with myself on what the relationship between Jungkook and the Reader should be. It would have been so easy to start them off with an extremely sexual relationship, lets be honest smut often gets more views, I also plead guilty to searching specifically for smut. But going down that route didn’t feel genuine to me, while I like smut I am a sucker for a slow burn even more. Instead I started to delve into the ideas that would prevent her from pursuing that immediate intimate relationship. I hated the idea of not accepting him just because of what he is, so what would stop me, the answer of course is the ability consent. The whole story has now developed into something that speaks to me on a more personal level and it has become far more unique because of that. On that note please don’t be afraid to write for yourself!

If you are writing your first series personally I would wait to post after you’ve written a bit. I already had 55,000 to 60,000 words written before I started posting Under Fire (you don’t have to wait that long though lol, I was just really self-conscious). It went though several changes and variations before I started posting it. I found the further I got the more I had to change in the beginning. When I first started writing it I never intended Suga’s and the Readers relationship to be this intense. If I had started posting it right off the bat we all would have missed out on so much.

Which kinda brings me to my next point, know your end game! Whether you are a plotter or a pantser, have some idea of your end goal is very important for a number of reasons. It will keep you motivated, it will keep the flow of your story consistent, you won’t be struggling to figure out how to end your story, and its the surest way to know that the end of your story will go out with a bang rather than a fizzle. You don’t have to develop it first but I highly suggest knowing it before you post that initial chapter. 

Read! Read all the books! Some people look at me with confusion when I tell them I haven’t been writing long. They ask how I was able to develop a story like Under Fire as a first fic. I read, I read a lot! My bookshelves are my pride and joy. I wouldn’t be as developed in my writing skills if it weren’t for the books I’ve read. Give me a book with a fast paced plot, twists and turns and I will see you when I’m finished. That more than anything else has translated back to my writing. I pay attention to how the stories unfold, how authors can withhold information until the very end. Find a favourite author and pay attention to their style, take a look at their storytelling techniques.

Don’t be afraid to break the rules and develop your own style! I came across this issue when I first started writing Under Fire. I wanted to write the story from different points of view, to have unreliable narrators keep things hidden, and to allow them dive into their thoughts when they wanted to express them. To do that I had to have those POVs in first person but writing first person from another character’s POV in a reader insert usually takes away from the intimacy, you usually have to start referring to the MC as she or her. So I broke a rule… I had them still refer to the reader as you even when not in dialogue, which is not standard for first person.  I’ve gotten heat for this choice, believe me lol. People think I am switching between first and second person mid sentence but I’m really not, you are simply getting to hear those characters narrate to you their side of the story and their view of your character. Think of what the unknown POV would have been like in Part 15 of Under Fire had I not made this choice. To be able to hear the stream of thoughts of the character was so important. He was able to narrate directly to you how he would hold you, how he could please you even more than the person you were currently with. It is probably one of the hottest most intimate scenes I have ever written. I regret nothing 😊. 

Use your thesaurus! I always have at least one tab with my thesaurus open at all times. I tend to avoid using the same word more than once per paragraph, if I can avoid it I will, otherwise I find things start to sound repetitive. 

Now I am going to dive a bit more in to the realm of plotting so bear with me. I plot absolutely everything! First I plot the whole story, then as I write each chapter I plot the scenes, sometimes I even have to plot conversations with main points that the characters need to hit. That argument between the Reader and Namjoon in Part 15 of Under Fire had to be plotted.

If you run into a snag and are stuck between two paths try charting the outcomes and the differences between them. You’ll often find yourself leaning towards one option more than the other in the end.

Research, for me this is an absolute necessity! It often brings a bit more realism to my writing. Everything from locations and technology, to medical care. Not only does it help to make my stories more grounded but it helps me make the things I do need to create seem more believable. That dropnet override used by JK was a fabrication of mine when I couldn’t find what I needed, but the Range-R technology used in Part 9 is real. I spend hours researching stuff, with my next project Locks and Barriers I’ve probably spent as much time researching as I have writing it (more to come on that later).

Last but not least plot twists/hidden motives. For these I find plotting to be integral. Working backwards, going from the reveal back to the beginning of when it was set in motion, sometimes all the way back to the start of the story, this is why knowing your end game is so important. As long as you know the true motives for your characters they don’t always have to convey or revival themselves completely. You can always have information come up later on (this is a good method for avoiding info dumps too). Allow the readers to hunger for more information, have them searching for hints to a characters backstory. 

I hope you find at least some of this helpful. It kinda got away from me there lol. Thank you so much for asking this, and don’t be afraid to send another if you have any more questions, I’m always happy to respond to you guys! Good luck with writing! 

#writing advice #bts writers

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts AU Ch16

Yes, we're here! I've been waiting forward to this part since I started this story. So, with no further ado, I present to you the Triwizard Tournament!

The rest of their sixth year had gone by relatively well. Halfborn managed to get the N.E.W.T.S he needed to get into the Wizarding University he needed, as did Percy and Annabeth. They threw a big party to celebrate it before the two Americans had to fly back and let’s just say Halfborn took full advantage of the fact he could legally drink.

Sam had been doing research on how she could get permission to bring Amir to the Triwizard Tournament for the best part of the second semester. She hadn’t yet told Amir since she didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing but Alex promised her that they could just sneak him in if they didn’t get permission. Apparently the plan included fake mustaches and a bad accent.

And speaking of Alex, her relationship with Magnus had been… weird. They were still friends, sure, and you wouldn’t notice something was wrong even if you knew both of them well. They hang out and joked together and spent entire nights awake binge-watching something from Netflix, but there were always those moments when they remembered of the crush they had – still had - on the other and had to remind themselves nothing would come of it and they should just move on already.

At times, they would get their hopes up for a moment. Holding eye-contact for a moment too long, hands brushing a bit too much, a joking ‘I love you’ and then squashing that hope down again. Friends do those things too, it doesn’t mean anything, they thought to themselves.

Summer went by in a flash, or maybe it just seemed like that to them. They met in front of King’s Cross and sat together in a compartment, telling each other what they did during summer. Being back on the Hogwarts Express felt different this time. Maybe it was because the last time they were in one of its compartments they were squeezed tightly next to each other in order to fit eight people inside whereas now they were only five. Or maybe it was because they knew this was going to be the last time they got to ride the Hogwarts Express at the start of the school year.  They were seventh years now- by next autumn they will have graduated.

“It feels weird to think this is the last time, huh?” T.J said at one point. “By next year we’ll be officially adults.”

“Now you made me feel old,” Alex said sheepishly, but no one missed the melancholy tone in her voice. None of them other than Magnus knew all the details, but it didn’t take much to understand Alex’s time at Hogwarts were the happiest years of her life so far. Hogwarts had been her home for four years and the first place where she ever felt like she was accepted. It honestly scared her to think she would never come back after this year. I suppose this is what normal kids feel like when they have to move out of their parents’ house for the first time.

“I don’t feel like an adult,” Magnus said. “I can hardly grow a beard or drive and I have no clue what I’m supposed to do with my life.”

Everybody but Sam – who knew for years she wanted to be a pilot- nodded in an ‘I feel you’ kind of way.  

“You tell me,” Mallory sighed. “Halfborn had been talking to me about different universities and courses and whatnot he was interested in for years and I was just like ‘I guess I want to finish school?’”

“Yeah, for all our jokes about how he’s an actual Viking, Halfborn has his life together better than any of us, save for Sam,” T.J said.

“I don’t have my life together that well,” Sam said, more because of embarrassment for being left out of the conversation than anything else. And it was true! Like, yesterday she had stayed up later than she was supposed to and she didn’t know a thing about cooking (ironic considering Amir’s family owned a restaurant).

Sam was met with ‘are you shitting me’ looks by every one of their friends. “Sam,” Alex said slowly, “you are already engaged with a boy you’ve been in love with for years and you’ve already applied for a bunch of piloting schools. You’ll probably be accepted by all of them, to be honest.”

Sam said nothing because Alex was right (although she doubted they would all accept her. At least one would turn her down due to her religion despite her great qualifications.)

“Okay, enough with worrying about our future, guys!” Mallory said, standing up from her seat. “This is our last year! Let’s make sure we enjoy it! We’ll go out with a bang!”

The redhead threw her arms in the air and her friends were quick to follow. Alex run out of the compartment quickly and came back with arms filled with chocolate frogs and a bunch of other sweets. The group hollered and hooted and soon candy wrappers littered the floor as they sang horrible Top 40s songs (and musicals because Percy and Alex had bonded over their shared love for Hamilton and other musicals, which meant that Alex was singing ‘Big Fun’ from ‘Heathers’ at the top of her lungs).

They arrived at Hogwarts after T.J and Alex (with some helps from the others) had managed to sing though the entire first act of “In the Heights” (and wow, Magnus never knew he found Alex speaking Spanish hot, but damn).

The opening feast went on like always for the most part. And ‘for the most part’ because Headmaster Odin announced that the Triwizard tournament would take place in their school this year. The student went crazy over the announcement, obviously, especially those over 17 who could try out their luck and see if they would be chosen as Champion.

And so that was the standart topic of conversation for the first weeks of school. ‘Which house will the Champion be from?’, ‘Who do you think will be Champion?’ and ‘Who will you take to the Yule Ball?’ were the most common questions between students and eve some teachers asked them (read: Professor Jack).

And so the time passed by and October finally arrived. The 30th came and the students were unable to think of anything but the arrival of the two schools that evening. It became almost unbearable for the teachers, the constant murmur in the back of their classes. Some completely gave up on teaching and just talked with their students (again, Professor Jack, who told them about the beautiful French woman he dated once and the handsome Bulgarian man he charmed with his talents).

The moment the afternoon classes were over the students sprinted down to the Big Lake to watch the two other schools arrive. The students’ excited talking created a cacophony that sounded like constant buzzing. The younger students were the ones more excited, or more obviously excited. The seventh years might not be bouncing up and down and squealing, but they wanted to.

“Hey, look!” a tiny first year yelled, pointing up at the sky. Everybody turned to look where she was pointing to see a pastel blue carriage being dragged across the sky. As the carriage got closer and closer it got bigger and bigger and what at first looked like a typical carriage ended up being as a two-deck bus on steroids. The students quickly moved aside to make room for the vehicle to land.

As the carriage landed and the winged horses that pulled it along came to a halt, Alex turned to Magnus. “It must be really hard to find parking space for that thing.” The joke was so random it made Magnus crack up, despite effectively ruing the otherwise magical moment.

As the doors of the blue carriage opened, a tall, elegant man walked out with robes as blue as sapphires and gray streaks of hair at his temples. He was followed by a rather big group of students, all dressed in blue. The boys looked like they could all easily get the role of the pretty boy in a bad high school chick flick, wearing a sky blue blazer with details in darker blue and perfectly ironed blue pants. The girls could have easily passed as Veelas, moving gracefully in a way that made you wonder whether they actually had Veela blood. They wore the same blazers as the boys with a blue skirt that reached their knees and fluttered with their every step.

The students were arranged by year, the first years at the back and the seventh years at the front. A boy walked near the front, shoulders pushed back and head held high proudly. The light color of his uniform made his dark skin stand out and black curls peaked out from under his hat.

“There’s so much blue I think I’ll throw up,” Magnus whispered at Alex. He honestly felt a bit nauseous at seeing so much of the color, no matter how attractive the students were.

“I’m more concerned about those ridiculous hats,” Alex whispered back. “Who thought those things were a good idea?”

“The same guy who thought we should have big black pointy hats,” T.J piped in.

The tall man, the headmaster of the school apparently, walked up to Odin and the two men shook hands.

“Gilbert, it’s good to see you,” the Hogwarts headmaster said with a smile, pronouncing Gilbert like Jill-bare.

“Likewise, mon ami.” The man- Gilbert- spoke in a soft, mellow tone that made Alex think he’d be great at telling kids bedtime stories. “Has Durmstrang arrived yet?” Gilbert’s accent was almost unnoticeable, except for when a word had an ‘r’ in it.

“They should show up any minute-“ The Headmaster was cut off by an explosion of water from the Big Lake. A large ship burst out of the water, spraying the watching students with water. The ship looked like what you would imagine a pirate ship like, made entirely of wood, with large masts and billowing sails that looked completely dry despite being just underwater. The figurehead at the prow of the large vessel was a sculptured dragon, its large wings plastered over the sides of the ship’s hull and its eyes two gleaming red rubies.

The ship pulled closer to the shore and a wooden bridge was lowered. The first to exit was a tall woman with broad shoulders and almost white blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes were gray and sharp like a blade and there were deep lines around them. The students of Hogwarts were instantly met with the realization that she was one of those teachers that you don’t want to piss off or you’ll be damned to hell.

Alex stared at the woman with large, shocked eyes. Of course she would be here! He scolded himself for not figuring this out sooner and his blood run cold in his veins as he realized something else. Oh, please don’t let her be here, please don’t let her be here.

“Alex?” Magnus asked, concern lacing his voice. His hand hovered in the air next to him, hesitant if he should touch Alex’s shoulder or not. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m-“

The ‘I’m fine’ Alex would have said got cut in his throat as his eyes fell on a tall girl with auburn hair. She held her chin up high and as the students of Durmstrang got off the boat she looked at everyone with an expression as if she was above all of them. Her blood red robes made her white skin seem almost translucent. Her legs, strong from Quidditch, where clad the isothermal leggings that were part of the Durmstrang girl uniform. The fur coat hanging off her shoulder looked like the skin of a bear and Alex had no doubt in his mind she could easily kill a bear.

“Alex?” Magnus followed Alex’s eyes to the Durmstrang girl. He didn’t understand why confident Alex was left looking at the girl with frightened eyes until he remembered what Alex hat told him back in the Room of Requirement last year. “Is she…?”

Alex clearly understood what Magnus was asking because he nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

Anger flared up in the Hufflepuff and he got some very un-Hufflepuff like thoughts regarding that girl.

“Alex, are you alright?” Mallory asked concerned, laying a hand on her roommate’s shoulder.

“Who’s that girl?” Sam asked, having noticed the way with which Alex was staring at the girl.

“She’s a cow that hurt Alex,” Magnus said simply, voice as cold as the weather back at Durmstrang.

The rest of their group didn’t seem to need any more information because they were instantly glaring daggers at the back of the Durmstrang girl.

The Durmstrang students walked behind their Headmistress as she came to meet Odin.

“Odin, Gilbert, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said as they shook hands, her accent heavy when she spoke.

“Same here, dear Sonia,” Gilbert said as he kissed her cheeks in greeting.

The auburn haired girl was scanning the crowds of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students with eyes like a hawk. She gave off the impression she was sure she would get picked for Champion and was searching the crowd of students for her competition. As her eyes flew over the students she suddenly froze when she saw a certain green haired Slytherin. For a moment, she looked just as surprised Alex, then her astonishment was wiped away by a wicked smile that spread across her face.

“Hello,” she mouthed at Alex and waved at him, her fingers wiggling.

A soft gasp was heard from Alex and Sam was quick to step in front of her brother and glare at the girl along with T.J. Mallory flicked a peace sign at the girl, which didn’t mean something as innocent as that for the Irish. Magnus flashed her a similar rude expression with absolutely no regret.

“Let’s kill her,” T.J said. The others nodded and kept glaring at the girl’s back.

“I know where we can hide the body,” Mallory said.

A nice, warm ball of feelings rose in Alex’s chest when he saw his friends try and defend him like that. Maybe he should be more concerned his friends were prepared to commit murder and kill a girl then didn’t even know the name of, but after seeing Helga again so suddenly it made him feel safe.

The three schools were lead inside the Hall of the Slain for dinner. The small tables that littered the room where students from all different houses could sit were now removed. In their place were the long House tables from the entrance feast along with two extra tables, one for each of the visiting schools. The group of friends had to split up despite how much they didn’t want to.

“If she tries anything, give me a signal and I’ll shower her in gravy and chicken bones,” T.J told Alex right before he went to sit at the Ravenclaw table. The unusual response managed to put a small smile on Alex’s face.

Magnus felt bad leaving Alex alone after that girl that had hurt him so much arrived and obviously recognized Alex, even though a part of him knew Alex could easily give her hell. Still, he couldn’t help but worry, though Sam and Mallory standing by Alex’s sides like his own personal body guards helped him calm down.

Once everyone was seated in their tables and the chatter in the Hall had calmed down, Headmaster Odin stood up.

“I believe I’m talking for all students in Hogwarts when I say we are all very happy to have the students and Headmasters of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute here with us tonight.”

We could do with one less student, Magnus couldn’t help at thinking, eyeing the Durmstrang girl with undisguised dislike.

“As you all know very well, our fellow magical schools that are grassing us with their presence today,” Magnus huffed and rolled his eyes, glaring at the girl again, “are here because of the Triwizard Tournament, which our school will host this year.”

“Now, I’m sure you’re all very curious as to who will be the Champions that will represent each school,” Headmaster Odin continued. “Those wishing to bring honor to their school and represent it as a Champion must be seventeen or older. Anyone younger will not be permited to enter their name.”

Headmaster Gilbert stood up and continued from where Headmaster Odin had left off. “Those of age wishing to enter as Champion must write their name and their school clearly on a piece of parchment.”

Headmistress Sonia stood up and picked up from where her fellow wizard left off. “The potential Champions will have from the end of tonight’s dinner until the start of tomorrow’s feast to enter their name in the Goblet of Fire.”

As if on cue, a large chest that had been placed in front of the teacher’s table burst open. Blue flames erupted from inside, making every students in the Hall gasp in surprise. Once the flames calmed down, a beautifully sculptured goblet was seen hovering of the chest. Covered in gold, only the students sitting the closest to the teacher’s table were able to make out the scenes depicted on it. The valuable stones set about an inch under it lid gleamed in the lights of the Hall. Flames burned inside it, the bright fire dancing dazzlingly.

The entire Hall applauded loudly, amazed by the sight they just witnessed. Dinner was served once the students finally calmed down. Food from each different country served. Throughout the entire dinner students were asking each other if they would enter their names in the Goblet of Fire or who they thought would be picked.

///////////////

Magnus, Alex, T.J, Mallory and Sam were huddled together near the entrance of the Hall of the Slain. They had arranged to meet there before breakfast to enter their names.

“So who will go first?” Mallory asked, holding her own piece of parchment between her fingers.

“Can I?” T.J asked enthusiastically. Given his love for Quidditch, he had been hyped about the Triwizard tournament since the get go. He was a hundred percent ready to support whoever the Hogwarts Champion was, even if it wasn’t him.

“Go ahead.”

T.J walked to the Goblet of Fire confidently and let his parchment fall in the fire. The fire spiked up, turning momentarily blue before changing back to its warm orange.

One by one, they all put their names in the Goblet. Magnus felt self-conscious as he put in his. He knew very well there was no chance he’d be chosen and being seen entering his name by all these people made him feel awkward, even though he knew everyone over seventeen would be entering as well and only three of them would be chosen from all schools.

All of his friends seemed like better options than him, though if he had to bet on whom, his money would either go to Sam or Alex. Those siblings could kick some serious ass.

The flames were blue again as Alex was entering her name when that girl showed up. She was no longer wearing her fur coat but her heavy boots clicked against the stone hallway.

“Well, if it isn’t Alexander. How nice seeing you here, how are you?” The girl’s accent wasn’t nearly as thick as the one of her Headmistress but it was still very obviously there. Despite her words being kind, there was a very obvious tone in her voice that let anyone within earshot understand she meant them in the least kind way possible. She might as well have said “How are you? I hope you’re dying”.

Alex went pale when she saw the girl standing behind her, hips cocked to the side and a smug expression of her face. “Go away, Helga,” Alex said sharply and tried to leave. She had absolutely no interest in talking to Helga again – she’d left her behind when she left Durmstrang and her parents’ house and had made a happier life for herself at Hogwarts. Helga had no right coming back in her life and messing things up.

“My, is that how you speak to your old best friend?” Helga spoke in a mock hurt voice, pouting at Alex like she hadn’t made her last months in Durmstrang hell on earth. She dropped the innocent tone when she went on talking. “Now I can see why you never had any friends at school. It surprises me you have any here. Well,” she laughed, a sound that should have sounded nice but instead sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard, “it surprises me that you are even here. I was expecting to see you in some freakshow, not Hogwarts of all places.”

Alex felt herself get angrier and angrier. Her fingers and her joints were tingling with energy and she wanted nothing else but to punch Helga in the face and break her pretty little nose. She took a deep breath through her nose and willed herself to calm down. Helga wanted her to react and she wouldn’t give her the joy of knowing she got under her skin. “I told you to go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. I just wanted to enter as Champion and see the competition.” Alex clenched her fists, trying not to do something she would regret. That stupid cow has the nerve to act like she’s the victim here. “But,” Helga kept going, “if all Hogwarts has to offer is people like you and terrorists, I’m pretty sure it’ll be an easy win for me.”

Gasps were heard and Sam went pale. If Alex was mad before she was furious now. How dare she talk like that about Sam? Sam, who had treated her like family and made her realize the word could mean something other than pain, Sam who was brave and selfless and ambitious and an absolute queen. Helga wasn’t good enough to clean the mud off Sam’s shoes. Your problem’s with me bitch, leave Sam out of it.

“What makes you think you’ll even be Champion?” Alex snapped at Helga, her voice as sharp as a knife.

Helga laughed. “You and I both know I’m one of the best students in Durmstrang and the Quidditch team’s best player. Who do you think would be Champion?”

“Hopefully not Bitch MacBitchson,” Magnus snarled under his breath. Or it was supposed to be under his breath but he said it loudly and everybody heard him. Including the bitch in question, who stared at him with the most offended expression Magnus had ever seen.

She quickly composed herself before speaking, her attention now a hundred percent on Magnus. “And who are you?”

“I’m Magnus Chase,” he said confidently. He was so angry at this girl for what she had done to Alex and how she was talking to her and his friends right now that he didn’t pay any attention to the fact there were students gathered around them watching what was happening. “I’m Alex’s friend and if you’re really that confident you’ll be Champion then just put your bloody name in the Goblet and leave because I think seeing a Troll in person is scaring some of the younger students.”

As per teenage fashion, the crowd of students broke out into a loud chorus of “Ohhhhh!” Helga was red in the face, obviously furious. Magnus felt so proud of himself as he watched her walk up to the Goblet with her nose held high, ignoring the cacophony the students were creating. She dropped her name in the fire and turned around, walking straight into Alex and knocking her off her feet as she made her way to the Hall of the Slain.

“I’ll see you and your little friends later, Alexander,” she said to Alex over her shoulder, a smirk on her lips.

A hand was offered to Alex. “Are you okay?” the person asked in a distinctively French accent and Alex recognized him as the tall boy from Beauxbatons with the crazy curls (he wasn’t wearing the stupid hat any more, thank goodness).

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” But even as she said that, Alex was glaring daggers, knives, swords and every other sharp object at Helga’s back. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t see everything, but that was really rude of her. If she wants to be a Champion she shouldn’t act like that.” The boy seemed to realize how angry he sounded and he quickly apologized. “Sorry for that.”

“Raphael!” A boy with dirty blonde hair stood by the entrance to the Hall of the Slain and waved at Raphael. “Come on!”

“J’arrive, Louis!” Raphael called out to the other boy. “I hope I’ll see you around,” he told Alex before putting his name in the Goblet and running to the other boy. They intertwined their fingers and walked into the Hall of the Slain.

“You know what I said about killing her?” T.J said. “I take it back. Let’s torture her, it’ll make the suffering last longer.”

The groups of friends chose to ignore T.J’s violent suggestion and simply nodded. They were already making lists of potential punishments.

////////////////

The day went by as slow as a snail for every student at Hogwarts, but finally the time had arrived when they would learn who would be Champions. The students poured into the great Hall, for once immediately sitting at their tables. The food of the Halloween feast was served and students eat in between talking among themselves lively. The air was filled with chattering as the last friendly dares were made about who would represent each school.

As dinner was finishing, Headmaster Odin stood up from his seat. He hit his Goblet with his spoon and a loud, crisp sound was made, amplified by magic. Everybody stopped talking at once and turned to look at him.

“My dear students,” he began, “I am sure you are all excited to learn who will be the three brave fellows to represent each of our schools in the Triwizard Tournament.” The Hall burst into applause as everybody showed the Headmaster their agreement. Odin smiled before continuing. “I assume you would prefer get to the point, as you youngsters say, so let’s see who have been chosen by the Goblet of Fire. I’m curious to find out myself.”

Applause filled the Hall once more, accompanied by howls and even cat-whistles. The chest with the Goblet of Fire was levitated on top of the small stage set in front of the teacher’s table. Headmaster Gilbert stepped forward. He took the Goblet in his hands and held it steadily.

“Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!” He bellowed in a clear voice. The Goblet’s small orange flames burst to the ceiling, turning into a vibrant, almost blinding blue. A single piece of parchment floated inside the fire, not one corner of it scorched by the heat.  

As the fire quelled, the paper floated gently onto Headmaster Gilbert’s hand. The entire Hall was watching him with bated breath as he unfolded the paper and read the name it had written on it plain and clear.

“Raphael Beaumont!”

The clapping inside the Hall of the Slain sounded like a thunderstorm as Raphael, the tall boy with the dark eyes that helped up Alex yesterday stood up. The applause only increased the closer he got to the stage, his school being by far the loudest. He made his way to the stage with his shoulders pushed back and eyes looking straight ahead, but he was obviously overthinking it – he walked like a person who put too much thought into every step and he clearly felt the eyes of everyone in the room on his back.

Raphael stood next to his Headmaster as Headmistress Sonia stepped forward. She took the Goblet in her strong hands and with the boldness and certainty of a commander howled, “Durmstrang Institute!”

Flames exploded out of the Goblet once more, tall and mesmerizing. The only thing that was heard in the dining hall as the piece of parchment floated down to her hands were quiet whispers. Unfolding the parchment with steady hands, she read in a booming voice.

“Helga Leifsson!”

Applause filled the Hall once more, but Alex and his friends refused to take any part in it. Helga stood up and walked to the stage with the air of certainty and elegance of a model, not once faltering in her step or looking scared, nose held high.

“Whoever is chosen from Hogwarts better kick her ass,” Alex grumbled, stabbing his meat with his spoon and imagining he was digging the piece of cutlery into Helga’s flesh.

Last but not least, Headmaster Odin stepped forward and cupped the Goblet in his hands, old and wrinkled head steady with years’ worth of experience. In a voice so loud you would have never thought he was capable of making, he shouted, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy!”

The flames raged high and powerful, showering the students in their dazzling light. The piece of parchment floated inside the flames like one of the paper boats Magnus and his mum would make and put in a lake. The parchment drifted down to Odin’s hands and he unfolded it carefully. He read loud and clear, leaving no one in the room a doubt about the name he uttered.

“Magnus Chase!”

Magnus suddenly felt like he was underwater. He knew there was sound, he knew the other students were clapping for him to get up and go join the Champions on the stage, but it all felt like it was happening too far away. It wasn’t really him, the Goblet couldn’t have picked out his name out of all these talented people. Yet even as he thought all that, as much as he couldn’t believe, people from his table were already pushing him to get up.

He somehow found himself on his feet, moving in a daze towards the stage. He wished he was walking as confidently as Raphael or at least as elegantly as that cow Helga, but he knew he must have looked pathetic next to them.

As the metaphorical water from his ear cleaned, the sound of applause didn’t seem to come from miles away. He realized it was his four friends who were cheering and clapping the loudest, edging him on by chanting his name like Mallory (“Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!”) or saying kind of inappropriate things like T.J (Kick their asses, Magnus! @#$% them!).

His eyes drifted to Alex, who might have been the single loudest person in the entire room. He had one leg up on the table, trying to climb on it but being held back by Sam, who was shouting for him just as loudly. One of Alex’s hands was cupped around his mouth as a megaphone and his other fist was pumping in the air as he yelled combinations of Mallory’s and T.J’s encouragements.

“Go get ‘em, Magnus! Woo hoo!” He yelled passionately, scaring a few of the other Slytherins.

Magnus smiled to himself as he made the last few steps to the stage, now walking with his head held high in pride.

Each Headmaster took their Champion by the hand and raised their joined hands in the air as Odin made the final announcement of the night.

“My dear students, I present to you the Triwizard Tournament Champions!”

�Y��K

Have I told you I love writing shit-talking? Because I do. Get ready, because I have quite a few things prepared  for you >:3

#Magnus chase and the obligatory hogwarts au #magnus chase #alex fierro #fierrochase

[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: With Confidence @ HQ

In which With Confidence rock out in Perth, and some fancy lens drama ensues.

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and I’ve only recently realised just how creepy it is to be writing show reviews almost two months since said shows occurred. 

*Plays Radiohead’s Creep.*

So let’s get to it. 

In the previous post, we discussed part one of the August 25-27th weekend, in which Why Even Try launched their new single, “More Than”, with Grey States, Shedhead, and Crown Loser, and my 85mm f1.8 Nikkor decided to die.  Today we shall continue that tale, focusing on the return of the lens (and the drama that ensued) and the With Confidence show at HQ. 

I swear everything is at HQ. Or Amps. Or Metro. Or the Metropolis. Or some other 18+ location. (I’ve been informed that some 18+ locations allow underage photographers, though. If you know any such venues – in Perth, Western Australia (not Canada) – let me know!) 

Now, where were we? 

Ah, yes. Saturday. We’d gone from prep to travel to shooting to travel to sleep to editing to prep to travel to shooting to travel to sleep to editing again to just needing to go through editing to prep to travel to shooting to travel to sleep to editing again, and it’s probably worth noting that my aforementioned cold was worsening. I doubt waking up at midday assisted with it, but anyway. 

I had a lot of editing to do, though it had to be delayed for the time being; I had a lens that wasn’t lensing and refused to shoot With-freaken-Confidence with a 35mm. Friday was horrible enough – gear-wise – and if I had the chance to run over to replace it in between sets, I would’ve.  So I had to go to Camera House.

But you can’t just walk in waving a receipt in their faces, no, you’ve got to go through the whole process. This includes researching their policies, comparing said policies to the ACCC’s website, crying over the fact that you might not see your $519 ever again, arguing with yourself, arguing with them, and just generally being a depressed, anxious wreck.

And so I did just that, finding out that they have a fourteen-day return policy and also finding out that this policy is complete bullshit, as such claims are actually illegal.

Great. So I might see that money after all.

Except… they have the option of either repairing the product or returning it and offering a store credit.

Right. So I might see that gift voucher after all.

Except… if they find that there’s nothing wrong with it, and knowing my luck they will, you’re stuck with this pathetic thing.

…So I might not resolve the issue after all. A few hours later, after editing three photos and binge-watching a Netflix show, I gathered my senses and lens receipts and headed down to Camera House. I was met by the dude who sold me the item, some cheerful bloke with probable intentions of selling more faulty crap. He greeted my mother and I (for my mother always tags along when arguing - or leaving the house - is in question), and asked about the 85mm, automatically regretting the query. Dude: So how's the lens? Me: Not good. Dude: Why? Me: It's failing to focus. Dude's face: What the actual fucking fuck did you do to it...? Dude's words: Oh? Do you have it with you? Me: Yup. *Awkwardly attempts to attach the lens to the camera body without dropping and shattering everything.* *Shatters dignity instead.* Dude's face: *Engulfed in cringe.* My mother: *Teeth clenched, bloodshot eyes, ready for battle.*

Dude tested the gear as I anxiously awaited the verdict. What if it only failed when I used it? Did it hate me? Oh my Gerard Way, it hated me!

He confirmed my nightmare: it worked perfectly.  Me: Please excuse me as I lie on your floor and cry endlessly. Dude: Could you not? It diverts potential customers. Me: Kill me. After taking a moment to... regather my brain cells? No, that's impossible. To calm down? Yeah, to calm down. After taking a moment to calm down and accept that my most precious lens was rebelling against me, I let the matter proceed.

Dude called over a guy who was walking past, supposedly the manager. Supposed Manager seemed thoroughly done with life and about to jump off a cliff, sighing as Dude spoke to him.

Supposed Manager: *Sighs.* What seems to be the issue? Dude: They bought the lens and say it isn't working. It’s fine right now, though. He showed the test images. Supposed Manager: *Sighs again* Right… 

As he inspected the equipment, the pair had a quick conversation regarding the problem. He soon unattached the lens, gained a cockier attitude, and unveiled his complaints.

Supposed Manager: Dust.

Well… yeah. That’s kind of what happens the moment you remove something from its box – dust gathers. Not exactly rocket science.

Supposed Manager: It’s not in brand new condition.

No shit, mate. As you’ve been told, it’s been used to shoot two shows. Not to mention that you’d have to use it to know that it’s broken.

It wasn’t physically damaged, and besides the aforementioned dust, appeared fine.

Supposed Manager: There’s a fingerprint on the back.

Now hold the fuck up.

Me: What?

Supposed Manager: *cleaning the lens* yup.

Me: …No?

What kind of crap was that? 

For those of you who are questioning why I’m making a huge deal out of this: lenses are a photographer's children; we take immense care of them, have favourites, talk to them in weird voices, and they were probably accidents from that innocent trip to JB HI-FI (or in this case, Camera House). And to have a fingerprint on the back of a lens is equivalent to being told you abuse your child.

So never make that claim. Ever. Unless you're desperately hoping to be punched in the face.

Unfortunately, he'd cleaned away the evidence - or lack thereof - before I could disprove his claim. With yet another sigh, he continued:

You're a-

Nope, I can't say it. I need a sponsor. But then again, I prefer JB HI-FI. The only reason I even bought this product from CH was due to the fact that they were the only ones who had it in stock.

But speaking of sponsors and JB HI-FI... would you guys be interested in a sponsorship deal? Please? I'll advertise the living daylights out of you! You know I love you, right? I'll sell my soul for you! No? Dammit... (The Devil: Hey, uh.... if you don't want that soul...)

Side note: am I the only one who thinks that the Devil would sound like the hormone monster from Big Mouth? Also, am I the only one around here who watches that show? Yeah? Okay... But shoutout to my uncle for recommending it! Okay, we should seriously continue with this story... I said: look, I used it to shoot two shows. The first time went perfectly well, though the second round - last night - it refused to work.

Dude looked at me as though I said something hilariously stupid.

Dude: ...You do realise this isn't a concert photography lens, right? My face: Please tell me you're kidding before I stab myself with a tripod. Me: What? Dude: This is a portraiture lens. You came in asking for a specific product, and I thought you knew what you were after.

Supposed Manager was thoroughly confused, though figured his side was winning thus retained his arrogance.

Dude: If you told me it was for concert photography, I never would've sold it to you.

As I fumbled around for words, my mother intervened. 

Mother: *Extreme level of sass* You never asked what it was for. Me to myself: OH FUCK YES, MUM! YOU SHOW 'EM! 

She was so extra, they couldn't deal. 

Supposed Manager gave an ultimatum: either keep the lens, or receive store credit.

But my mother was way too high on her previous sassy success that she couldn't keep from demanding a full refund. And hey, fair enough; JB HI-FI would never do this, they always get personal and you leave feeling emotionally connected with their staff. Seriously: last year, I purchased an Olympus compact camera, the model of which I cannot recall, and the guy working there truly gave a damn about my intentions were, how often I'd be using it, etcetera. He actually cared, shook my hand at the end, and said to come back if I had any queries and to keep him updated. Now that's customer service. (#NotSpons'dButWishItWas #ShaneDawsonQuotes #I'llStopWithTheHashtags)

An argument ensued. Of course it did. It always does. I go in to buy a memory card and we end up in a heated debate regarding the neighbour's goldfish. Or something like that. Regardless, the ACCC is mentioned in at least two threats and quoted eighteen times, and there is no concrete conclusion or win. And yet it continues. Every. Single. Time. 

I'll speed up to the important part: I agreed to store credit, though the cheapest lens available that fit my requirements was $60 more than this one. So I wouldn't be seeing my $519, store credit, or current cash, after all. 

My mother refused to agree to this. How dare they not give it for $519? They just lead us through hell! 

Me? I just wanted to buy the bloody thing and be done with these people. I couldn't shoot With Con with a 35mm. No way. I had more self respect than that. Actually, this had nothing to do with me: I had more respect for the bands than that. I couldn't make them look bad! I wouldn't shoot with a 35mm.

But before I could express such thoughts, my mother answered for me.

Mother: Let's go. Take your lens and go.

What. The. Fuck. Ten minutes later we were at Perth Underground and I felt like a bitchy teenager on a TV show. How could she?! I couldn't - I wouldn't - embarrass myself in front of With Confidence. They probably didn't give a flying fuck, but that wasn't the point. A 35mm. How pathetic. So we had a bit of an argument ourselves. Another ten minutes later, we were back at Camera House. Dude had left and Supposed Manager stood behind the counter, in the same place we left him. Me: We'll take the lens. Supposed Manager: *Sighs.* Alright. But first he had to recheck the state of the lens I was returning. I truly couldn't catch a break, could I? He took some puffy pump thing that sighed almost as much as he did, attempting to remove the dust. I was beginning to think that he was seeing things, that there wasn't actual dust, that he was just tripping on acid. If so, I'd love to get in touch with his dealer. (Side note: JB HI-FI don't employ such shady characters. If you want a safe shopping environment - along with a greater range of products and a sausage sizzle on Saturdays - visit JB.) (#StillNotSpons'd. #StillWishItWas.)  Supposed Manager continued on, wasting everyone's time and shortening my upcoming visit to Grill'd.  Supposed Manager: You know, this is in a horrible condition. *Sighs.* My face: Go on, make one more complaint. I fucking dare you. Supposed Manager continued.  Supposed Manager: You should be glad we're allowing this return.  Me to myself: You should be glad I haven't punched you in the face yet... Perhaps their policy wasn't illegal, but I'm damn sure their customer service was. I'm still struggling to comprehend how they even produced any profit with such arrogant salespeople. Okay, allow me to rephrase: Dude was fair enough. I've got nothing against him. But Supposed Manager? Oh, boy... Who the hell even employed this guy? All he did was sigh, be cocky, and refuse to communicate in an orderly fashion; y'know, treating customers as equal humans and whatnot? JB HI-FI has better standards. And prices. He soon cut the crap and proceeded with the payment. But scanning a credit card is a difficult job. It takes true talent to be able to complete such a complex task, and unfortunately Supposed Manager didn't obtain it. It took him ages - and I mean freaken millenniums - to swipe that thing and have me enter the pin. Ages. And finally, he printed the receipt and gave us the new lens. (Which, by the way, was an ex-demo. Freaken pathetic.) But he managed to misspell my name. Sarah Bjeasdfghjkl? It's Sara Bjelanović (emphasis on the ć), thank you kindly. JB HI-FI never make these mistakes. Ever. At long last, we headed back to Leederville to get some (late) lunch at Grill'd. Hey, speaking of Grill'd, I wouldn't mind a vegan sponsorship from them... But food reviews later. I've wasted enough of your time already. My mother was still pissed off. I don't really blame her. At least we had an incredible show coming up. Two nights in a row - how awesome is that?! Before we knew it, we were at HQ, staring at a sea of coloured hair and one hell of a queue. It was roughly half an hour before doors so we took a seat at a picnic table. That razor blade was still there, and so were the skateboarding kids. They probably lived at the venue.  It was going to be a packed night, and for a socially awkward weirdo whose personal space is a top priority, I knew I was about to suffer. (Though in all honesty, there is no such thing as personal space at a concert. You all kind of merge and become one large mass of humanity in a pit.) We got in, set up, and before most people were even admitted, Available at the Counter began their set.  Shooting was fun. Way too fun. This new 50mm was amazing! It was just the right length for HQ; not too close so you didn't have too far back, and not too far that you had to stand in front of everyone. And with an f-stop of 1.4? I was in photographical heaven. The only thing that could've made it better was if it was from JB HI-FI; they'd give you that true satisfaction. If you've bought gear from them, you'll know what I'm talking about. AATC's set was refreshing. There's nothing better than a local act who play like an international sensation. It was a pleasure to shoot them, and all members interacted with the camera; funny faces, staring long and hard at the lens, that sort of thing that makes photographers all content and satisfied with their life decisions. During the intermission, I made a mental note of everyone who was present. Surely I can't be the only one who does this? Regardless, there were the general crowd of scene/emo/whatever-the-hecks that you see at every event, and then there were the photographers; the amazing Talia Ferguson (who wasn't shooting this show but covered With Con at the Boston the previous night), the incredible Leon Martin (who you should definitely check out because holy fUCK he knows how to shoot), and some other person who I don't know, but they seemed super cool and I'd love to meet them. I didn't speak to any of them, of course, because, as I previously mentioned, I'm a socially awkward weirdo. I did catch up with Talia after the show though.  And then Seaway came on.   ​I'm a Seaway fan. Not crazily into them, but I enjoy their content enough to want to purchase their fancy vinyl... at JB HI-FI. (Actually, the local record stores are also wonderful. High Fidelity, Rhubarb Records, Dada, Noise Pollution, 78, Mill's, Junction, the list could go on forever. They all have extensive ranges and great staff. If any of them are interested in sponsoring an indie blog that's about to start posting record reviews, contact me...) (I'm not even apologising anymore.)​​ The band was extremely inclusive in regards to the crowd. They made an active effort to keep everyone jumping around and enthusiastic, and I even managed to get some shots from the stage. Oh, by the way: do bands hate it when a photographer is onstage? Is it annoying? Do you want to throw a brick at my face? 'Cause I'm only trying to get a few good images, so I don't know.  ​​ Intermission. Now, my mother does this thing were she asks me to show her a photo of every band member so she can spot them throughout the night. At this point, she thought she saw the drummer of Seaway chillin' around at the back of the venue, and convinced me to go talk to him. Personally, I suck at recognising people's faces. It takes me ages to figure out that that's my friend waving from across the room, or who the person next to me is. It's fair to say that my short-term memory sucks, and my long-term visual memory isn't a great deal better.  So I spoke to him. Me: Hey, are you that guy from Seaway...? Him: *Laughing* no... Me: Oh, shit, haha.  Him: *Laughs* sorry. Me: No, no, I'm sorry, my... "friend"... thought you were the dude and I'm horrible with faces. And names. And people in general... Him: *Still laughing* that's all right, haha. And so I awkwardly backed away and found a corner to cry in.  The lights dimmed. The stage darkened. The teenage girls screamed so loudly that my earplugs passed out like Miss Fitter in that science class. With Confidence went onstage, and fucking hell, did they deliver.  ​​ From their dexterous playing to Jayden's amazing voice, Luke's commentary and Ini's innocent existence, the band's set was one to remember. Ironically, I can't remember most of it because I spent an equal amount of time fangirling over my new lens. But from what I can recount, they did an exceptional job and were worth every cent spent on tickets.  ​​ At one point during their acoustic session, I managed to sneak back onstage and hide (not really) behind some amps. I was semi-tangled in cables, but nothing fell over so I suppose it was all good. Ini interacted with the camera, that was awesome. The rest of the band soon rejoined Jay and Ini onstage, and Luke even smiled at me, which made my existence worthwhile. He did so again later on, so you can imagine how high on fangirl feels I was.  ​​ And then they left. The crowd cheered for an encore as I remained stuck on that stage. The fans below were refusing to move, afraid of losing their precious front row spots, and it was agonising. There were around one hundred and fifty or so people there, staring eagerly at the stage, and all that was on it was a poor excuse for a human being. (I'm joking, I was fucking fabulous. Y'know who else is fabulous? JB HI-FI. Grill'd. Local record stores.) ​​   I managed to get down and spent the encore shooting from the pit. It was a marvellous concert, and before everyone was fully aware of what was happening, we were lining up to meet the band.  ​​ I dislike revealing entire conversations, especially if they're with band members or otherwise important humans in my life. As you may've realised, Supposed Manager is not an important person in my life. I just feel as though it's a personal thing for everyone. But here's a recap of what went down: Me: Hugs? Handshakes? I'm too awkward for this. Luke: *Laughs* saaame. Luke: I love your jacket! (He was referring to my patchy denim one.) Band: Thanks for photographing our set! Me: asdfghjkl how does one English properlyfghjkl Me: *Explaining to one of their crew members/managers/some cool dude who was there, how to use my camera.* Cool Dude: *Still takes a rather blurry photo.*

And then we were back at Grill'd. I dreaded the upcoming editing.  MUSIC SUMMARY:

Available at the Counter: energetic as fuck/5

Seaway: intense crowd involvement and amazingness/5

With Confidence: fangirling and falling to the ground like Miss Fitter/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY:

Lenses: I went through hell for these babies/5

Camera: still not allowed to complain/5

Lighting: the reds destroy my soul/5

Editing: not even Lightroom could save some images/5

My sanity: what's a sanity/5 So that was that. Up next: Homebrand's "Shelf" launch show. Until that's up, let's all go send emails to JB HI-FI, Grill'd, local record stores, and Nikon, asking for sponsorships. Send them this link. Let's see how long this goes on for before they get a restraining order against me! Go give these bands a listen: Available at the Counter Seaway With Confidence Live long and headbang,

xx- Skyler Slate

#tftp

[morrisbrokaw]

Surviving Addiction—and Coming Through Stronger

By the time Dan Maurer hit rock bottom, he was pastoring his third different congregation as an ordained Lutheran minister, he’d already done two stints in treatment, and he was pretty sure he had things under control. That was before he was arrested for breaking into homes in the rural North Dakota countryside he called home.

“I was totally dysfunctional at that point,” says Dan. “I don’t remember a lot of it. I had lost all sense of ethics or morality. I was just doing things to survive. I couldn’t see my life without drugs and alcohol.”

IT HADN’T ALWAYS BEEN THAT WAY, OF COURSE.

As a teen growing up in Anoka, Minnesota, he had what many would consider some normal encounters with alcohol—sneaking a few drinks from his parents’ liquor supply, doing some binge drinking in college. (“Not much though,” says Dan.) His home life was good. There were no obvious signs that addiction would derail his life.

Things took off though when he was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. After a painful attack, his wife Carol drove him to the emergency room in Dubuque, Iowa, where he was a grad student in seminary. The year was 1996.

“I don’t know if the doctor on duty made a mistake or actually thought I needed that much pain control,” says Dan, “but I’ll never forget: He prescribed three refills of 30 Demarol. I maybe needed it for that one day (if at all). But there’s no way I needed it for three months. I think I went through that entire prescription in about three weeks. I was like, ‘This stuff is great!’”

He has likened the sensation to the comforting feeling of being a little boy watching Sesame Street, as his mother tucked a freshly laundered blanket around him.

“I was totally dysfunctional at that point. I don’t remember a lot of it. I had lost all sense of ethics or morality. I was just doing things to survive. I couldn’t see my life without drugs and alcohol.”

AFTER THAT, THINGS CHANGED.

Although alcohol hadn’t interested Dan much before, it now became a steady crutch. “Painkillers were my drug of choice,” says Dan, “but I couldn’t get them all the time—and I wasn’t going on the street or anything—so I started drinking more and more.”

He hid bottles in the basement ceiling. He drank in the morning before sermon prep, or in the afternoon before his wife came home from work. He found ways to hide the smell of alcohol on his breath. (“I’d eat pickles,” Dan laughs.)

One day Dan wondered how many bottles he’d stashed above the ceiling tiles. He shined a flashlight around. Holy sh**, he thought. I’m an alcoholic. His next thought was, Oh, well. I can handle this. Everybody else is a loser who lets this mess up their life. I will make it work.

AND, FOR A WHILE, HE DID.

Dan was a master at hiding things, as most addicts are. Carol had no idea. Dan is articulate. He was a great preacher. He’s friendly and likable. He could carry on without too many things falling through the cracks. And he’s smart—so smart that he could research new ways to get high and self-diagnose the side effects. Those side effects included, at one point, having seven tonic-clonic “grand mal” seizures that he mostly hid from everyone.

Meanwhile, Carol and he were raising two young boys and Dan was pastoring congregations throughout central North Dakota.

Not everything was bad. “Even though our life was a lot of crazy,” says Carol, “there were times that were still functional. Decent. It wasn’t 100% insanity. I sometimes think back to that. What if I would have known how much he was boozing and drugging and not doing what was expected of him?”

“The ironic thing,” says Dan, “is I still cared about being a husband, about being a father—but I didn’t see the disconnect that you can’t really have all these things with addiction because addiction is always on top.”

FROM BAD TO WORSE

As Dan’s addiction progressed, so did his desperation for a high, and his willingness to do anything to get it.

By 2008, a physician prescribed Benzodiazepines for his worsening anxiety. When combined with alcohol, these “benzos” caused blackouts—the kind of blackouts where Dan would be talking and functioning, with no awareness or recollection of it. Dan spent an entire family vacation in Florida, blacked out for most of it.

“I just thought he was really, super, super depressed,” says Carol, who suspected Dan might just be longing for a career change. “I knew something was wrong but I didn’t really know what it was.”

It was during this period, Dan says, that he started getting crazy ideas. “One of the ideas I had is that it would be a good idea to walk into other people’s homes to see if they had painkillers.” So he did. Several times.

Eventually, the sheriff’s department caught on.

When Carol was told that her husband was being arrested for a felony trespass, she was confused. “I said, ‘Oh! Well, I think he’s trying to connect with those people for church.’”, believing what Dan had told her. “In hindsight,” she laughs, “that was so not true. But there’s probably a part of you that wants to believe it.”

ROCK BOTTOM

“At that point, I had lost all hope,” says Dan.

He checked into Hazelden (now the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation). This time, after he completed the 30-day program, the staff recommended he stay for their long-term in-patient program. He did. After 60 days in that program, they recommended he move to a sober house. He did. “I was willing to do whatever it took to save my marriage,” he says. “To save my life.”

And so, after twelve years of addiction and his third stint in treatment, Dan got sober. It was 2011, and he has been sober since.

FINDING HOPE

One thing you notice right away when you hear Dan and Carol tell their story is how cheerful and lighthearted they are. They laugh with each other about the ridiculousness of Dan’s lies and the extent of Carol’s obliviousness. They banter over the details. (“Wait, we had ceiling tiles in that house?” says Carol.) They talk passionately about the recovery process that has kept them together.

It’s clear that there has been so much healing that this story no longer evokes pain. Instead, it is a testament to hope. They both say their relationship is stronger than it’s ever been (although not perfect), and there are a few key things they say helped their marriage survive the destruction of addiction.

“Any difficult spot that you’re in now… You don’t wish it on anyone but it can only make you a stronger person for that.”

Everyone’s story is different. Here is theirs:

1. They both got help.

Carol is a big piece of why they’re still together. She didn’t leave Dan during the worst of it. (“My dad really wanted me to,” she says.) But she also didn’t leave all the recovery work in Dan’s court. If she had, Carol is the first to say she’s not sure they would be together.

“I think one of the main reasons our marriage survived,” says Carol, “is because we both got into some kind of recovery program. If Dan would have done recovery and I just would have sort of kept being my bullsh*t self, I don’t know… Maybe we’d still be together but we wouldn’t be healthy. I mean I can’t imagine what it would look like.”

She didn’t always feel that way.

Carol initially recoiled at the suggestion she might need help. “The first time I went to Al-Anon and found out we were working on the Twelve Steps, I was like, f*ck this. I’m not doing this sh*t. I am not the one with the problem,” says Carol. But, at the urging of others in the group, she gave it a chance. After six sessions, she was hooked.

Carol, herself the adult child of a now-recovered alcoholic, says “I realized how much crap I had brought with from my own childhood. As a child of an alcoholic, you just don’t know how to deal with life. I came to realize how much my father’s addiction had shaped a lot of my attitudes, how I responded to things, the expectations I had about myself, about my life…”

On top of that, says Carol, “There’s no way you can draw a line and say this is the addict’s problem and it hasn’t affected me.” Eventually, Carol says she found serenity for herself—regardless of what Dan was going to end up doing.

“That’s the epitome of what recovery is,” Dan says. “You have to start with yourself—that’s all that you have control of. You have your own behaviors and your own actions to look at. And, as you become healthier with yourself, the bonus is that you’re healthier with the other person. So if it’s working on both sides, you’re going to end up healthier together.”

2. They persisted.

For Dan, treatment required more than one round. Although this can be (and was) discouraging, it’s common. Many professionals compare addiction relapse rates to those of other chronic conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, and asthma, all of which involve both physical and behavioral aspects. The good news is – relapse does not mean failure. It just means more—or different—treatment is needed.

Returning to treatment can be humbling, but, for Dan, his persistence paid off.

Carol, too, needed to find the right support. For her, it ended up being Al-Anon, a Twelve Step program—but even that took some trial and error. One of her early Twelve Step experiences was handled very differently from others she had seen before, or since. That particular experience was “very shaming,” she says. Fortunately, she knew something was off, and she looked for better options.

Now she says, “I’m so thankful I’ve discovered and worked through Twelve Step recovery because I think it’s just good living. It’s good for anybody. It doesn’t matter if it’s related to addiction or not. We all have things in our life that that kind of rigor helps us work through.”

Still, recovery wasn’t a quick fix for either one of them.

“One thing people don’t always understand,” says Carol, “is how long working on yourself takes. It takes a really long time…to get to a place where you feel changed. It takes a long time.”

“I’m so thankful I’ve discovered and worked through Twelve Step recovery because I think it’s just good living. It’s good for anybody. It doesn’t matter if it’s related to addiction or not. We all have things in our life that that kind of rigor helps us work through.”

4. They got honest.

One of the things that’s changed in Dan and Carol’s relationship is they understand each other better. Both understand that Dan’s brain is wired in a certain way and that, for him, recovery means rewiring the pathways addiction created. Both understand that he’s still an addict—an addict in recovery.

“To this day I still have pill-seeking dreams,” says Dan. “Why do I have those? The only thing I can think of—and the language I use—is an ‘induced mental illness’. It’s an illness of the brain, which is a particular organ in the human body, and if you have a genetic component and the capacity to run in this path, when you add chemicals to it, it induces you into this insane state.”

Dan knows he’s still wired to sometimes make poor choices. “I’m still impulsive,” he says. “I still struggle with these things. I still need to work on them in myself.”

“I’m still crazy,” he adds, “that’s part of my problem.”

Carol counters, “I think we’re honest about our craziness now. We used to have a lot of untruths.“ Carol admits she used to sometimes tear people down to help herself feel more confident. Especially her husband. “I was just looking for any dumb little thing to nitpick about. Even if I had that same issue myself I was just… I could just be really mean.”

“I try not to be mean anymore,” she says, smiling, “I try to say what I want rather than be catty or hinty about it—I try to just be direct.”

Dan says, “I think the marriage has changed now because I’m healthier, because she’s healthier, and because we have a commitment to say what’s going on.”

4. They found purpose.

So where has all of that addictive energy gone these days? Dan says, “The most important thing, if you’re trying to get sober, is you need to find purpose and meaning in your life. For me, I have to create. It doesn’t matter if I’m writing or if I’m on a website studying CSS code or if I’m writing a play or any of that. I have to create and I have to continue doing that. I found that for me, it drives me. It’s enough.”

Today, as a four-time published author and freelance writer, Dan is a sought-after speaker and the brainchild behind several businesses, including two that provide creative resources to churches (rclworshipresources.com and funchurchplays.com).

“Life is pretty good,” he says. “I love doing what I’m doing. I’m pretty good at it. And it’s germane to Carol and I being together.”

These days, Carol and Dan take long walks with their dog every day. They cook, they eat out, they parent their boys (now 17 and 13), they visit open houses for inspiration. “We love our walks, we love our talks,” says Dan. “I mean, she really is my best friend.”

Carol adds, “He’s my best friend too—but we’re our own individuals as well.” She turns to Dan. “My life isn’t dependent on your life, and your life isn’t dependent on mine either. We’re able to function individually while at the same time just enjoying each other.”

5. They’re grateful.

Dan knows he’s been lucky. “The number of times I could have died!” he says, with a mix of amazement, horror, and humor.

Dan knows many addicts don’t have access to the kind of insurance that paid for his in-patient treatment three times. He knows many addicts arrested for felony trespass would never get the opportunity to eventually move on with life. He knows many addicts need more than three trips to treatment. And he knows not everyone who loves an addict can (or should) stay in the relationship as long as Carol did.

His gratefulness is palpable.

“The irony,” says Dan, “is that where we are now is because of all the difficult times we went through. I think that’s a word of hope. Any difficult spot that you’re in now… You don’t wish it on anyone but it can only make you a stronger person for that.”

“But only if you do the work,” adds Carol, with a smile.

Dan and Carol Maurer on a recent trip to Alaska

__ Author’s note: Interviewing this exceptional couple left me with a range of emotions and insights. I suspect it may do the same for others. I have known and loved more than one addict. At some points early on, it would have been incredibly helpful for me to know there were others struggling with similar issues, to know where to begin finding help, and—especially—to know recovery was possible, for myself and also for the addict.

I hope this article offers a glimpse of that hope to you. To learn more about Dan Maurer and his journey, visit Transformation is Real. To learn more about addiction, the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, and Twelve Step resources, follow the links.

  Image sources: 1/ 2

Julie Rybarczyk is a freelance writer, fair-weather blogger, and well-intentioned mom who has almost never remembered to send lunch money to school. She’s perpetually the chilliest person living in Minneapolis—so most of the year you’ll find her under layers of wool, behind steaming cups of tea. Or at shortsandlongs.net.

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