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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

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Hiii!! I really love your tumblr posts and I'm pretty new to the Batfam (meaning I have only read fics and textposts about them, no comics) and I wanted to ask about the year Bruce/Batman gets "lost in time". I know general things of what the kids have been doing–Dick became batman and fired Tim from robin, giving it to Damian, everyone thinking Tim was crazy for believing Bruce was alive, (don't really know what Jason was up to though, was he still murderous towards Tim? Does the pit still affect him? Also I have no idea about Cass and Duke, were they introduced at this point??) Anyways, my real question was why was Bruce lost in time, what villain put him there? And how did he get out? And how long was he "dead"? Was Bruce in another reality or like just asleep the whole time? Oh! And how soon did this happen after Damian got introduced to the family–a couple months?

I'm so sorry this is so long, but I hope you answer and thank you!!

(I’m going to try and cover all my bases here by going into how exactly Bruce “died,” what went down during the Battle For the Cowl, what the Batkids did while Bruce was gone, and how Bruce came back. Hopefully it all makes sense?? We’ll see how it goes lmao.)

Part 1 - What Happened to Bruce:

So there was this event called Final Crisis (which I won’t go completely into since it would make this post a million times longer than it already is), but the bottom line is that Darkseid wants to overthrow reality and release his Anti-Life Equation, which would overthrow the whole planet and turn everyone into slaves. (If you’re interested in knowing more about the storyline, here’s a Reddit thread that explains it WAY better than I could.)

What I CAN tell you is that during his final confrontation with Darkseid, Bruce is hit by an Omega Beam and turned into a burnt chicken nugget killed. Poor guy.

Final Crisis #6

Clark and Diana bring the body back to the Batcave and break the news to the Batfamily. Batman #687 covers a good portion of the aftermath such as Bruce’s funeral, the Batfamily grieving, and Dick coming to terms with his new responsibility of becoming Batman.

Batman #687

Part 2 - Battle For the Cowl:

Musical chairs time, fellas! After word gets out that Batman is gone, Gotham erupts into chaos. Dick doesn’t want to take over the mantle, Tim needs Dick to take over the mantle, and Jason says “fuck it” and takes over the mantle himself because somebody around here has to. He becomes this murderous psychopathic Batman and starts taking out criminals with deadly force because someone’s gotta do the job, so it might as well be him.

Batman: Battle For the Cowl #1

(Okay honestly, this series had some pretty bad characterization overall, which sucks since it’s such an important storyline. Jason is portrayed as this violent psychopath, which...okay, he was kind of insane after the Pit and all, but not to this degree. Personally, I choose to owe the bad characterization to Bruce’s death because as much as Jason resents Bruce for all he’s done, he does still love him and losing him would be devastating, which would exacerbate his already fragile mental health. As for Damian, this happens roughly three years after his first appearance, so we can assume it’s been a few months since he first joined the family. He’s still relatively new at this point, so nobody knows how to write him yet. He ends up being depicted as if his main two personality traits are Bratty and Assassin-Child and that’s it. It’s all just a mess.)

Anyway, Tim tells Dick to become Batman and stop Jason’s reign of terror. Dick says no, so Tim follows Jason’s lead by saying “fuck it” and putting on the cowl himself. He goes to confront Jason, which ends in Jason beating the crap out of him (again) and leaving him for dead after Tim declines his offer to become Jason’s Robin. Dick goes to save Tim and ends up fighting Jason.

Battle For the Cowl #3

Dick wins, Jason disappears, Tim is fine, and Dick finally gets his head out of his ass and becomes Batman.

Part 3 - What Happens to Each Batkid While Bruce is “Dead”?:

Dick:

As I said, Dick becomes the new Batman a month after Bruce’s death. He’s got big shoes to fill, and it takes some time for him to get used to his new role. He and Damian end up flipping around the classic Batman and Robin dynamic, with Batman now as the fun counterpart to Robin’s edginess. Dick, Damian, and Alfred relocate to the penthouse above the Wayne Foundation building, operating out of a secret Bat-Bunker in the basement.

Batman #688

Jason:

After Battle For the Cowl, Jason is still batshit insane and determined to make Dick’s already stressful life even harder by becoming a supervillain with an ugly costume and an even uglier hairstyle. (I know it’s just because the artist sucked, but still. Jason is horrifying to look at during this time.) He mostly just gets on Dick’s nerves by running around Gotham with his new sidekick Scarlet and killing criminals as Batman and Robin wannabes. Eventually, Dick has Jason committed to Arkham Asylum and he hangs out there until Bruce returns.

Batman and Robin (2009) #5

Tim:

Tim...doesn’t do great after Bruce’s death, mentally. Dick makes Damian Robin, his reasoning being that Robin is more of a sidekick and he sees Tim as his equal. By making Damian Robin, Dick hopes that it will give him the stability he needs to keep him from straying back toward the “bad” side. (It’s the right move ultimately, although his execution was pretty messed up since he didn’t discuss it with Tim beforehand, but he’s allowed to make mistakes. Dick’s father just died and now he’s in charge of picking up the pieces of their broken family. It’s a lot to handle.)

Long story short, Tim has a breakdown, realizes that Bruce is alive, dons the Red Robin identity, and cuts ties with his family to travel the world in search of proof. It’s a rough time.

Red Robin #1

Damian:

Our little guy becomes Robin! So proud of him! As I explained earlier, Dick makes Damian his Robin with the assumption that it will keep him out of trouble, and he’s right on that account. He mentors Damian, teaching him how to channel his violent instincts into something productive, and it works! Slowly but surely, Damian makes the transition from bratty assassin to actual hero!

Batman and Robin (2009) #22

Cass:

Duke sadly was not introduced at this point in time, so he missed out on all the pandemonium. Cass, however, has been Batgirl for years by now, but she got kind of pushed aside by the writers after Bruce’s death. Bruce disappears shortly after adopting Cass, but once he was “dead,” the writers sort of moved Cass around for a while, not quite knowing what to do with her. First she was with the Outsiders. Then they got disbanded and Cass tried forming a new network of heroes to take over for Batman if needed. Then she helped out in said network during Battle for the Cowl, taking care of a newly ravaged Gotham. Then Cass gave the Batgirl mantle to Stephanie Brown after she became disillusioned with the role, thanks to the loss of her father and mentor. Then Cass picked up and moved to Hong Kong to “follow Bruce’s plans” by continuing whatever work he had set up for her there. It was all very vague and confusing, and Cass more or less got swept under the rug during this time. Thanks, writers.

Batgirl (2009) #1

Part 4 - How Bruce Came Back:

When the Blackest Night storyline happens, the Justice League realizes that the corpse buried under Bruce’s grave is apparently not the real one and that he’s actually alive out there somewhere! How wild is that! This is further proven by Dick after he places Bruce’s body in a Lazarus Pit to revive, which has the same result because it’s very clearly Not Bruce and they should have listened to Tim from the start.

Batman and Robin (2009) #9

Anyway, what actually happened is that the Omega Beams that Darkseid shot at Bruce didn’t kill him, but rather blasted him back through time to the prehistoric era with his memories wiped. The Omega Energy inside of Bruce ends up catapulting him through various time periods, which is all part of Darkseid’s plan. With each time-hop, Bruce builds up more Omega Energy in his body which, when he gets back to his original time period, will be unleashed and destroy everything.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #5

It’s been a little under two years since Final Crisis, though in-universe it’s uncertain exactly how long Bruce has been “dead.” We can assume it’s been a year, give or take. The way he comes back is too scientific and complicated for me to understand, so uhhhh the bottom line is that Tim and a few Leaguers save Bruce at the Vanishing Point and the day is saved! Hooray!

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #6

(If you want to read about how it actually goes down, then I seriously recommend reading Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne. It’s only six issues, so it’s a quick read and it explains the situation far better than I ever could.)

Bruce eventually reunites with his family after spying on them for a period of time as Insider to see what has changed in his absence:

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

After that, things quickly settle back into their new normal. Dick and Damian stay on as Batman and Robin. Bruce goes back to being Batman as well, with him handling Batman Incorporated business and Dick continuing as Gotham’s defender. Tim keeps the Red Robin outfit, Steph stays on as Batgirl, and Cass becomes Black Bat. Jason stays in Arkham for a while before filing an appeal to be moved to a regular prison. He kills 82 inmates in less than a week and gets transferred back to Arkham, which he promptly escapes from. It’s a ride, I tell ya.

Aaaaand that’s about it! I hope this answered all of your questions!

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4ragon · 3 years

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Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

#ace attorney #dual destinies #i love dual destinies guys really #but if miles says dark age of the law one more time #also was this coherent at all?#j #spoilers #meta

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Summer Photography (aka the thirst trap)

Summary: Marinette is forced to take pictures for Gabriel in order to pay for her summer graduation trip with her best friends from lycee. Adrien, her primary model, wants to avoid the summer heat and pulls in one very attractive bad-boy motorcycle man to be his replacement.

_______________________________________________________

July in Gotham comes with an almost rancid kind of heat.

The kind of heat that is impossible to banish unless the air conditioning is set to 65 degrees and there’s a dehumidifier in the room. The kind of heat that makes babies cry with discomfort and adults curse whenever they have to take a foot outside. The only age population that enjoys it are the teens. More precisely, the teens are more fans of being on summer vacation, rather than the sticky warmth, but they find ways to work with the heat, rather than against it. Some teens gather on apartment rooftops, taking in the rare, smoggy breeze with pleasure. Others frequent their local swimming pool, an ice cream parlor or convenience store. If they get really desperate, they take shelter in the library.

Should a teen be forced out onto the muggy sidewalks full of sweaty bodies, they drift towards parks or areas of ‘city beautification’ and find a tree to rest their weary bodies under.

Of course, there are always exceptions to these norms.

“Marinette,” Adrien groans, sweat on his brow. “Can we please do this not during peak heat?”

“No,” Marinette says. “Your father insisted on having pictures of a male model at precisely two in the afternoon, and it took me months to convince him to let us come on this trip, so we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”

“It’s not like he can do anything now. We’re literally an ocean away.”

“Suck it up, sunshine,” Marinette swats her hand at a lazy fly, not bothering to look up from changing the lens on her camera. “Maybe I’d let you get away with a substitution. Gabriel didn’t specify that the person in the pictures had to be you, but we don’t know anyone in Gotham, and everyone we’ve come across so far isn’t exactly the friendly sort.”

Adrien flicks the collar of his t-shirt, desperately trying to generate some sort of a breeze so he doesn’t melt. “This is all Nino’s fault. He and Alya insisted on going to that couple’s show when he could have been out here, taking my place. If Luka were here, he wouldn’t have deserted me like that.”

“We all know of your and Luka’s undying love for one another, but he is busy touring. He’ll meet up with us in New York, though, and you can have your disgustingly sweet love-fest over there. Meanwhile, I’ll be forever alone.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Marinette. At least five people in each city we’ve gone to so far have tried to go on dates with you.”

She crinkles her nose and does a test shot, making sure the light setting works out. “Yeah, but they all reeked of desperation and alcohol. Plus, at least two of them were just looking for a person to cheat with.”

“No good,” Marinette says, frowning at the shadows the tree cast. “Gabriel won’t be happy with these kinds of photos. You’re going to have to move out of the shade.”

“No!” Adrien wails. “I refuse! It’s bad enough that you dragged me out here, but to make me go in the sun? You know I burn easily.”

“Yeah, yeah drama queen, but these photos aren’t going to take themselves, and I’m one hundred percent sure that you don’t want to have to do this twice. Which is what we’ll end up having to do if you don’t get your little butt out into the sun so we can take quality shots.”

Adrien whines before a motorcycle revs in the not so far distance. A very Chat Noir smile creeps onto his face. “I don’t think I will. I’ve just found my substitute.”

Marinette follows his gaze, then shrugs. “If you think you can convince him to substitute in, you’re free to go. But remember, it’s Gotham, and if you get jumped, I’m not going to help. It’s too hot for a fight.”

“You underestimate my charm.” Adrien says, already triumphant.

True to form, Adrien somehow manages to get motorcycle man over to her.

“Not sure how Adrien convinced you to do this, but I guess he gets a free pass.” Marinette knows exactly what Adrien’s going to do with his free time. He’s gone on and on about Gotham’s Museum of Vigilantes, and to be quite frank, Marinette doesn’t want to get caught up in another one of Adrien’s rant sessions on the Bat Family. “Anyways, nice to meet you. I’m Marinette, and my awful boss has come of with the wonderfully creative idea of Summer Heat for a photoshoot in the summer.”

She has a bone to pick with Gabriel Agreste. More than one, actually. In fact, she’d say that out of the 206 (well, 207, if she counts the fracture she got in her left pinky toe after that last akuma battle that weirdly, still hasn’t healed) bones in her body, she’d pick a fight with Gabriel over at least 200 of them. The lack of originality is one thing, but she’s not sure how she feels about his blatant attempts to set her up with her son during this trip. Somehow, he still hasn’t grasped the fact that his son doesn’t swing her way despite having hundreds of pictures of being lovey-dovey with Luka all over the internet. In fact, maybe it’s because Adrien and Luka have that many pictures that Gabriel is trying to push for a heterosexual relationship. A lack of vision both for his photo shoots and for his company. Marinette doesn’t understand how she once looked up to this man.

“It’s no problem. I’ve got nothing better to do, anyways.”

Marinette blinks, then reassesses the man in front of her. Not only does he have a sinfully attractive voice, but his visual appeal isn’t that bad, either. “It’s still nice of you to do this. Should be a pretty quick shoot. Five outfit changes and a few poses in each-- shouldn’t take any longer than an hour, hour and a half.”

She rummages through her bag, fishing out a stack of paper. “You’ll get paid for your time. $250 for the whole shoot, and if you want to keep one of the outfits, feel free.”

If she’s being completely honest, she thinks that Gabriel’s summer collection is a hot mess, and she doesn’t particularly want the burden of bringing back the disgusting articles of clothes back with her in her suitcase. Should motorcycle man not want any of them, she’ll send them back via express mail.

“Don’t need the money, but I’m trying to stay out for as long as I can. Any way you could make the shoot go on longer?”

“You want to stay out in this heat?” Marinette asks in disbelief, taking out a small bag of makeup to apply to his face. She motions for him to sit in the shade of the tree while she sees what she needs to cover up.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Motorcycle man says.

“Like the owner of a custom Harley-Davidson is poor,” Marinette quips. Humming in approval after giving his features once over, she decides that foundation isn’t necessary, only concealer to cover up the dark circles and some old scars.“You have great skin.”

During their summer trip, Marinette has become makeup artist, photographer, public relations manager, and trip advisor. It’s a taxing job, but well worth the reward, which is an all-expense-paid graduation trip with her friends from lycee. Well, Nino and Alya had to pay, but between Nino’s part time DJ gigs and Alya’s ad revenue on the Ladyblog, it wasn’t hard for them to raise enough for the two month long, seven city, four country trip.

“One of my siblings is insistent that we do our best to minimize the scarring. Don’t know what his deal is, it’s not like our faces are sellable commodities.”

“That’s where you’re wrong-- you’re pretty good looking and could easily go into modelling or acting if you wanted. So props to whoever your sibling is. And thank your genetics too.”

Motorcycle man snorts. “Not cut out for that lifestyle. I like more… adrenaline inducing jobs.”

Marinette almost-- almost laughs. The placement of the scars on his face do imply that he’s gotten in at least one or two knife fights before, and there’s a thin line on his neck that definitely looks like it hurt. Motorcycle man has definitely been in trouble before, but he’s also good enough to get himself out of it. She’s not going to bother asking what his job is. She doesn’t want to be an accessory to any of his crimes. “Action movies, then?”

“Oh sweetheart, I make action movies look like a kid’s fist fight.”

“Wow, we have a bad boy on our hands, ladies and gentleman.” She finishes applying highlighter and sits back to admire her work. His jaw can cut glass. “Okay, Motorcycle Man, it’s time to take pictures. If you’re good, maybe I’ll draw the shoot out-- I’m not a fan of this humidity.”

Summer is better than winter, if only because she’s acquired a weird habit to almost hibernate when the temperature gets too cold. It’s easy for Marinette to shrug off the heat most days, even when her friends complain constantly.

“The name’s Jason.”

“I think I’ll stick with Motorcycle Man. Alliteration, you know? Now, one hand in your pocket, the other at your collar. Left leg out a little, like you’re ready to take a step-- perfect. Walk forwards a little, yeah, just like that.”

Jason is Adonis personified. The perfect package of cocky, arrogant, and bad boy. It doesn’t hurt that he’s well muscled either-- even Adrien doesn’t have thighs like that, and he spends hours as Chat Noir jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

“You’re a natural,” Marinette praises. “Have you ever modeled before?”

“Not like this, but I’ve got my fair share of pictures on the internet.”

She’s going to regret asking this. But curiosity killed the cat, not the ladybug. “If not for modelling, then what for?”

“Oh, you know. This and that. A few odd jobs here and there.”

And if that doesn’t make Jason sound more like a criminal, she doesn’t know what will. Marinette decides that she definitely won’t bring up a day job, let alone a night job.

“All right, next outfit.” She pushes a muscle tank top and light, ripped jeans into his hands. “You can change in the public restroom, and if anything doesn’t fit, just let me know.”

He takes the outfit, but pauses at one of the other outfits she has in her bag. “Is that… leather and fur? For a shoot with the theme of summer heat?”

“I don’t call the shots, I’m just the poor lackey who has to make them look good. Trust me, if I were in charge of design, the only outfit that might still be in the bag is the one you’re holding right now.” Gabriel is definitely losing his touch. But hey, doing this weird intern summer program for him isn’t the worst thing she’s had to do in her life. It’s good to learn from other people’s mistakes, rather than making them herself.

“Don’t worry. Crappy fashion isn’t going to scare me away. Have you seen some of Gotham’s villains?”

At that, she couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re talking Gotham villains? How about Paris?”

“Paris is some weird alternate dimension. It doesn’t count,” Jason protests.

“I could say the same for Gotham. Really, why are there so many Robins? Can’t they come up with another name?”

“I almost wish I could argue with that.”

He comes out of the stall, and Marinette feels the summer heat. Jason, Motorcycle Man is ripped. Yeah, his thighs are probably some of the thickest she’s seen, but his biceps are to die for. She’s half tempted to ask for his workout regime, but she’s sure that somewhere he’ll casually throw in ‘beating up random people on the street’ or ‘punching people who piss him off.’ Those are just the kind of vibes that Jason gives off.

“The arm holes are kinda tight.”

“I’m sure they are,” Marinette breathes, chest tight. Jason’s eyes smoulder. He knows exactly what he’s doing as he places an arm on the door frame and flexes. She thinks she can die happy, now.

They wrap up the shoot quickly. All of the clothes are promptly packaged up except for the tanktop and jeans.

@jasonette-july-2k20

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For the other jasonette prompts i’ve written for so far, i think i’ll probably continue them eventually, so lmk if you want to be added to the tag list for that. pretty surprised these are getting such a good reception thank you guys for that ;)

#jasonette july #jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #miraculous ladybug #dcu #summer #jason has thicccc thighs #marinette is a ho for muscles #adrien agreste #original content

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

“Class is in session!” Young April O’Neil tapped her ruler against the whiteboard.

The minute April had learned that not one of the brothers, not even Donatello, knew how to write in cursive, she had jumped on the opportunity to teach them. Even if she was physically the same age as Raphael (ten at the time), mentally she scored higher than all but Donatello, but then again nobody could score higher than Donatello. Yet here she was, in the teachers spot with Donatello as her student.

“This is lame.” Leonardo groaned, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning so far back in his chair that it almost toppled over.

“No talking in class!” April warned.

“Why?” Leonardo smirked.

“Because I said so.”

Leonardo was silent a moment, but the minute April turned around to write on the whiteboard, his voice started up again.

“What if I have a question?”

“Then you raise your hand.” April answered promptly. Her marker touched the board, then Leonardo spoke again.

“What if I break my arm?”

“Then use your other arm.”

“What if I break both?”

“Oh I’m gonna break them if you don’t stop talking.”

“Understood.” This time, Leonardo really stopped talking.

April cleared her throat. “First off: The cursive alphabet!” She wrote both big and small letters on the board for each letter, “Same as the normal alphabet, but fancy~”

“What the heck happened with G?” Mikey gawked.

“We don’t talk about G.” April said, “Leo are you paying attention?”

“Yaaaawn!” Leonardo gagged.

April huffed and clutched her ruler almost hard enough to break it.

“Um…” Donnie’s eyes were even more squinted than usual and he raised a hand.

“Yes Donnie?”

“Can you write it bigger?”

April frowned. “Raph, how’s it for you?”

Raphael was at the desk next to Donatello and sat up proudly at being addressed. “I can see it just fine, Apes!”

“Me too!” Mikey piped.

“Yaaaaawn.” Leo sighed.

Donatello looked around at his brothers with a frown as he shrunk slightly into his shell to hide his embarrassment.

“That’s okay Don.” April said with a smile, “I can make it a little bit bigger for you.” She did just that, “How’s that?”

Don gave a shy smile. “Better…”

April didn't quite believe him, but didn't want to bring it up. “Hey Mike, do you mind switching seats with Donnie?”

“Nope!”

Mikey took a place in the back row beside Raph while Don took a closer place beside the indifferent Leo.

~~~

“Names!”

April scribbled each turtle's name in their signifying color and pointed to them. “Honestly, this is the most important cursive you’ll ever earn. So you can sign your name and stuff— and no Leo I’m not excluding you from learning it just because you’re tiny mutant turtles living in the sewer!” She tapped the board, “Copy this down on your papers as many times as you can!”

There was the unanimous sounds of chairs adjusting and pens clicking and touching to the paper— three of them. April smiled as she looked out over the ‘students’ but frowned once more when she got to Donnie. The year-younger turtle was squinting at the board and near tears trying to make it out. He made an attempt to copy something down a few times, only to scribble it out seconds later. Then, finally, he got up and walked over to the board instead.

“Uh… can I…?” His nose was practically pressed to the board so he could make out his name, supporting his paper against the wall to scribble a quick draft before returning to his desk and copying the rest of his attempts off of the first attempt.

~~~

When she announced for them to turn their papers in, Mikey was of course the first one in line, bouncing excitedly as he shoved his way to the front and held out his paper to April. April smiled and accepted it, yet Mikey lingered awaiting praise.

His work was surprisingly neat for someone so hyperactive, though big and riddled with far more loops than necessary. Legible, but far from perfection. She smiled down at Mikey and gave the tiny box turtle a pat on the head.

“Great work Mike! Try writing a little smaller next time so you can fit more on the paper!” She drew a smiley face on Mikey’s paper.

Mikey gave an excited squeal and snatched the paper, hugging it tightly to his plastron and churring softly before running off. Then came Raphael. His writing was also big and bold like Michelangelo’s, but without the foundation of neatness that the youngest brother held.

“Good job, Raph! Same thing as Mikey, try to write a liiiiittle smaller. I know it might be difficult since the paper’s tiny compared to you, but you’re doing great!” She gave Raphael a flaming smiley face, and Raphael was content.

Donatello was nervous— nothing unusual. He held his paper out to April and almost winced as if expecting rebuke. April let her eyes linger on the anxious softshell a moment before going down to his paper. His cursive was just as illegible as his print always was— the shape was there and she could see some familiarities in the loops to indicate where each letter was supposed to be, but the letters blended together even more than typical for cursive.

Still, she smiled at Donnie all the same. “See? You did great, Don! I knew you would.” She gave a purple smiley, but frowned as the ink dripped and made it look like the smiley was crying.

Donnie accepted the paper without talking and sulked off. Leonardo was last in line, unusual for someone always so eager to please, with a smug smile as he held out his paper to April.

“I know, I know Keep your praise to yourself. I didn't wanna do it but I pushed through it and mine is no doubt the best. That’s why I saved it for last.”

April narrowed her eyes and saw straight through Leo’s charade of confidence. The writing was big, though not quite as big as Raphael’s or Michelangelo’s. It was clear he had finished his work fast, the paper filled and whatever space left filled with tiny scribbles. At first she smiled when saw how neat the handwork was, a welcome improvement to the flipped letters that usually riddled his print writing, but then when she looked closer at the letters themselves, she noticed something else. Though the letters weren’t flipped, they were distorted— not the kind of distortion that a lazy hand would result in, but each letter was blurred together, some of them with multiple loops where there was only one or none when there was meant to be one. April looked up at Leonardo who concerned eyes, though his look of confidence never faltered.

“Uh. Good work Leo.” She said vaguely, giving him a smiley like she had to everyone else.

~~~~

“Are you sure about this…?” Donnie asked nervously.

“Trust me!” April beamed, taping the handles of the glasses to Donnie’s face

Donnie, eyes still closed, still tried to turn to face April’s voice. “Whenever Leo says that it usually ends up failing. Painfully.”

“Well I’m not Leo, so stop moving!” She snapped Donnie’s head back forward so she could finish her work. Once she was sure that they were on securely, she backed away and grinned. “Okay! Open your eyes!”

Donnie opened his eyes. His first reaction was to squint like he always did, but when his eyes were met with detail denied all his life, they shot wide and starstruck. His mouth dropped open, he sucked in a breath, and backed up against a wall as the world spun in its new light.

“Wha…”

April beamed and gave an excited bounce, clapping her hands together. Her face looked unusually empty without her glasses, but she didn't care. She could always get new ones, but Donnie…

“Whoa…” Donnie’s dichromatic eyes flicked to everything in the room in quick succession.

“Donnie are you okay?” Mikey rocked on his toes with his arms folded behind his shell.

“I… everything’s just… it’s like seeing life in HD!” Once the shock left, a smile spread across his face and he couldn’t stop it from claiming his usually shy or disinterested features.

“Woah! I wanna see life in HD!”

Mikey jumped up and snatched the glasses from off of Donnie’s face, shoving them on his own. His eyes and nose immediately scrunched up as he looked through the lenses.

“Ehh… this doesn’t look like HD…”

April laughed and leaned down to boop Mikey’s nose while he blinked away the irritation of the focused lenses. “That’s because your eyes already work, Mikey.”

“Raph’s turn!” Raph stole the glasses from Mikey’s nose, laughing as he put them on his own face. His reaction was similar to Mikey. “Ehhh…. Not for Raph.”

“What about you Leo?” Mikey asked, appealing to the older brother, “Don’t you wanna try them on?”

“What, and look like a four-eyed nerd? No thank you.” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Excuse me?!” April put her hand on her hip and dared Leonardo to repeat himself.

“Ah—“ Leo’s realization seemed to knock him off his confidence, “Not you April—you make them look cool—“

“Just shut up and wear these.”

April shoved the glasses onto Leonardo’s face, and the slider was immediately blinded by how… not blind he was. He let his mouth hang open a moment and sucked in a gasp, looking around with the much the same awe as Donatello had, before shaking his head and taking the glasses off of his face.

“See? Told ya! I don’t need em!”

Despite his words, there was a longing hurt in his eyes as he returned the glasses to Donatello and silently reserved himself so his twin could enjoy the full experience of being able to see a whole new world.

@brightlotusmoon

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt disaster twins #rise april #rise!turtles

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bereft-of-frogs · 3 years

Note

Why are people saying that the MCU hates Loki and them? What are they using as evidence?

Oh boy. This is sort of old discourse. It's what I meant when I said I avoided Ragnarok discourse for so long - I'd seen some of the more mild critiques, I'd obviously understood that some people didn't like the movie because that's how things work of course no thing is going to appeal to everyone, there was of course the anti-Sakaar Trash Party stuff but I was used to those (having been actually sucked into the MCU from the Hydra Trash Party, originally XD) - but then I stumbled upon the wider discourse that Ragnarok (and Infinity War, and Endgame, and the new show) was designed specifically to tear down Loki's character because Marvel secretly hates him and how popular he is, and hates the audience for some reason, and also that Taika Waititi and Chris Hemsworth are bullying Tom Hiddleston because they're like...jocks and he's the nerd...

It pops up basically whenever something new is released. The Infinity War opening death scene, the fact that Thor doesn't really acknowledge him in the time travel scene in Endgame, a lot of the more recent interviews about the show, any time he appears in the trailer in a compromised position. There is probably other things that can be stretched to appear as evidence, but...I honestly try to avoid it due to a deep preexisting discomfort with speculating about actor feelings (or honestly knowing much about the actors at all - it messes with my ability to engage with the character, it's a whole thing...). Even typing the last sentence of that first paragraph like made me...little weirded out. (Just a weird personal squick, don't worry about it.) So I only really see it when new canon material is released and posts start to get more widely shared. But yeah this theory has been going on for a long time. I do think it's getting a lot more intense, which is why I feel like it might be the foundations of a larger conspiracy. (Or not - things very well might calm down quite a bit once the show actually starts airing.) (Linking earlier post in case anyone missed it and is confused about why I'm talking about conspiracies XD.)

And also as I said the other night I think it's worth acknowledging that sometimes these things do happen. Studios do sometimes sabotage their own work for various reasons, putting out films in opposition to ones that are certain to have a bigger box office draw, actors are blacklisted for various reasons, obviously actors have interpersonal drama that we have absolutely no way of knowing about. Creators do sometimes have an antagonistic relationship with their actors and their audience. I'm just skeptical of the evidence in this case and for me the difference between here and something like the Star Wars sequel trilogy, is with the MCU it's a lot of conjecture and a lot of reading into micro-expressions and implications and taking interview quotes wildly out of context or not taking into account tone - whereas with SW we have direct statements from John Boyega and Alan Dean Foster about specific ways that Disney screwed them over, and extremely clear evidence like Finn's sharply diminishing role across the three films.

I hope this sort of cleared things up - I'm not sure I can fully explain given how long it's been going on, there's probably a lot of information I've purposefully avoided for my own comfort levels.

#another ban violation this week #i try to avoid star wars discourse but also i will go to bat for john boyega and alan dean foster because they're right #and i think comparing john boyega's case to tom hiddleston is a useful way to see...yeah no TH/loki is not being sabotaged #john boyega/finn was 100% sabotaged and it sucks #the discourse (tm)#loki show discourse

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

Text

Before You Know It

summary: Your best friend Javier returns from his venture to Colombia much different than how he left you.

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: alcohol abuse, mentions of violence, blood, and being a sexual object, personal trauma, angst, fluff

inspiration: part of this fic is loosely inspired by this brilliant work by @longitud-de-onda! thank you, love, for such a beautiful fic (that made me cry, mind you!). please check it out!

rating: R

word count: 4.868k

You place your hands on your hips as you sigh, looking around the vacant room. You’ve been helping your best friend, Javier, move his things out of his bedroom at the home he shares with his father, so his father can use the space for something more efficient while he’s away on his new job. Thinking of it makes your stomach turn unpleasantly, but nevertheless, you keep a strong face for Javier.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you look over to see Javier standing there with an expression of gratitude. “Thank you so much,” he says genuinely. “Your help made this a lot easier.”

“Hey, how could I not help get you out of here faster, Javi?” you joke, causing Javier to chuckle and shake his head in return. You observe his gaze to see the sheer excitement he’s feeling, and you wish you could feel the same thing for him—but, sadly, the thought of him going off to a foreign country to track down drug lords doesn’t sound very appealing to you.

You and Javier have been best friends ever since kindergarten. With neighboring desks and nervous feelings, you both started talking and clicked right away. Soon, you were barely spending a minute apart from each other. It helped that Javier’s house and farm was just a ten-minute bike ride down the road from yours. You shared everything with each other—answers to homework, life struggles, every single summer night—up through high school. He was like an extension of yourself, a foundation for the shaky life you had growing up. With an abundance of alcohol in the house and two very stubborn parents, fights were a daily occurrence, and Javier was always there to rescue you from the chaos. You knew the loss of his mother had deeply impacted him, and so you became his solace in the midst of his ever-present grief. You knew everything about each other, and that made it hurt like hell when the time came for you to part—just a bit farther than usual.

Javier decided to attend Texas A&M University-Kingsville, while you ambitiously went to University of Texas in Austin. You were a three-and-a-half-hour drive apart, a trip you each would’ve taken if either of you had a car. It was much different from the ten-minute bike trip down the road. Still, you stayed in touch with letters and spent your summers catching up on all you’d lost out on. After you’d both graduated, you moved back to Kingsville to figure out your life while Javier began training with the DEA—and now, some years later, he’s finally being positioned somewhere interesting in the field.

What you hadn’t expected from all of this was the way you’d feel about him. Javier was actually your first kiss, the result of a deal you’d made as eight-year-olds. You’d decided that, if you both hadn’t kissed anyone by the end of sixth grade, you’d kiss each other—just so you could tell your potential partners that you did have the experience. By the end of sixth grade, neither one of you had the experience under your belt yet, so you’d shared it with each other. And you know it sounds ridiculous, especially now as a grown woman, but that’s the exact moment you knew you had feelings for your best friend—but you didn’t have the courage to ruin your friendship.

So, you stayed silent. All those years. When you and Javier started dating other people, you tried to push those feelings away, putting them into the corners of your heart and attempting to drown them in other boys. But it never worked. You knew the truth, especially whenever you saw Javier with his girlfriends. You never told him, but you had cried at your senior prom when you saw him dancing with Lorraine, and you declined the offer to join him at an afterparty because you knew you’d have to see him get into a tent with her and do exactly what you wanted to do with him. But that was nothing compared to the day Javier showed you the ring he bought for her, and when you got their wedding invitation in the mail. It fucking hurt. Yet, you’d still comforted him all the same when Javier came to your house on his wedding day, telling you he couldn’t do it. You wanted to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t. Not when he was hurt.

And now, he’s leaving you—for fucking Medellín. Colombia. Much more than a simple ten-minute bike ride or three-and-a-half-hour car drive. You can’t even send letters, because Javier’s told you it’ll be pointless. The mail system sucks, and it’d take months until you’d hear from each other. So, it’s a bit difficult to share Javier’s excitement at going down to Colombia, especially with that painful feeling in your chest you’ve been carrying ever since the sixth grade.

Javier’s voice saying your name suddenly floods your hearing, and you turn quickly to see him staring at you. Some of the excitement in his gaze has subsided for concern as he studies your stiff nature. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you assure him with a wave of your hand. “Just hungry, honestly.”

Javier smiles. “As always.” You scoff, punching his shoulder as he chuckles. “I’ll order some takeout, and then we can have a drink.”

You nod, liking the plan as you follow him out of the bedroom. Javier’s father’s still outside, utilizing every bit of daylight he can on the farm. You ask Javier if you should help, and he shakes his head, saying that he was given strict instructions not to let you lift a single finger on anything other than his own belongings. You laugh, accepting the can of beer Javier offers once he’s called for the delivery.

You hope the alcohol will blind some of the pain in your chest, but it doesn’t. You watch as Javier’s lips move, his dark gaze sparkling as he talks all about what he’s going to do in Colombia, all the work he’s done to get there—but you don’t hear anything. You try to engage, nodding your head and maintaining his eye contact, but you can’t process anything. He’s acting like leaving you is easy, like everything’s going to be great and you’re not going to suffer here alone in Kingsville at the teaching job you’ve just started—at the same grade school where you met him. Guilt fills you at this feeling: you’re supposed to be excited for your best friend and the dreams he’s achieving, but the pain of the loss is overbearing.

Javier finally notices this, and his lips slow as he puts down his beer and wraps his hand around yours. “Hey,” he starts softly, looking over from where he’s sitting beside you on the couch. “I know the whole distance and time spent apart thing’s gonna be hard.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears away as you continue returning his look. “That’s an understatement.” You muster a chuckle, although nothing about this is amusing to you.

“But I won’t be there forever.” Javier lifts his brow, hoping to see some sort of change in you at his words. It works—your tense shoulders relax just a bit, causing him to smile. “And the minute I’m back in Kingsville, we’ll catch up. Alright?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you wearily rest your head on his flannel-covered shoulder. He releases your hand to wrap an arm around you, giving you a comforting side-hug as you sit there. When you finally sit back up, Javier’s giving you yet another reassuring smile.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

Those words stick in your mind, allowing you to relax enough to hold a fun conversation over the takeout dinner and get you closer to the front door. You can barely get the goodbye out of your throat when the time comes, and you embrace him for at least a few minutes straight as you hide your face in his shoulder. You take that time to breathe in what you can—the feeling of his arms around you, his familiar and comforting scent, the sweet nothings he says into your ear to keep you calm. When you pull away, you hope to see some of the same love you feel in your heart reflected in his eyes—but all that’s there is excitement and slight sadness. With a sigh, you leave the house, and as soon as you’re in your car, the tears start falling. You cry the entire night.

Javier leaves on his flight the next morning. Half of you wanted to drive to the airport and tell him everything you’ve been holding back since sixth grade, and the more rational half of you told you to leave it. Who were you to give him a reason not to pursue his dreams? You knew how hard he’d worked to get to where he was, and as his best friend and secret lover, you would’ve hated to hold him back from that—no matter how painful it was.

It was years until you saw him again. Many years.

You’ve started to forget what he looks like. Are his eyes really that dark? What does he smell like again? Is his voice smooth or raspy? Everything’s getting lost in your mind as you overthink it all. Yet, you can never truly forget him. He’s still there, haunting you every day, driving you crazy in the waiting. You’ve still tried to date other people, but it never works out, and secretly you know why. You follow the news closely, seeing the horrors of Pablo Escobar and praying to God that Javier isn’t risking his life over that psychopath as much as you think he is. You have dinners with Javier’s father occasionally, asking if he’s heard from his son. He knows just as much as yourself. You’re then left with whatever memories of him you can remember, sitting alone in your apartment and never knowing when you can see him again.

So, when the knock comes at your apartment door one evening, you’re confused as to who the hell would be paying you a visit at nearly ten o’ clock at night. You open the door cautiously, your jaw practically dropped to the floor at what—or rather, who—you see.

“Javi?” you breathe, your tone coated in disbelief. He looks much different than he did all those years ago, having grown out a fitting mustache, exchanging his flannel for a fitted button-up t-shirt, and letting his hair get a bit messier than usual. He’s grown into a man—a man you’re still helplessly in love with.

Javier breathes your name in the same tone as you, his gaze floating up and down as he takes you in. Then, in a quick moment, he wraps his arms around you, causing you to smile as you rest your face in the leather jacket that covers his shoulder. His familiar scent comes back to you, but this time mixing with a new cologne and faint smoke. You stay there until Javier pulls away, his hands falling on your shoulders as he stares at you in disbelief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” His voice sounds raspier than it used to, and you hate the way it makes your heart skip so easily. He observes you again, instinctively making your cheeks heat up at the attention he’s giving you. “Did you get more beautiful while I was gone?”

You scoff, giving his shoulder a light punch as he laughs a bit. He was always one to give you a compliment like that before, so you’ve already trained yourself to think nothing of it. “You haven’t changed a bit, Javi,” you say. Javier visibly tenses at your words, and that’s when you take in the true differences. His dark gaze is missing something—that sparkle of his isn’t there anymore—and there’s more wrinkles around his eyes and brow, along with permanent circles under his eyes. Evidently, he has changed, just not in a way you can easily uncover. “What brings you back?”

“I’m done in Medellín,” Javier explains, but you can tell that there’s more to it than he’s telling you. “I’ll be working here, now.” Your eyes widen in slight excitement, but you try to hide it, since you can tell that something about it is upsetting Javier greatly. He continues, “I told you the first thing I’d do when I got back is catch you up, so… here I am. And I… really needed to see you.”

Your heart practically breaks at the longing in Javier’s voice. Your concern for him has now grown tenfold as the darkness in his eyes starts taking over. You nod, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you came, Javi. We can talk as much as you want to. Did you want to stay here, or—?”

“I was hoping we could go home,” Javier interjects, almost sounding timid at his request.

You immediately know what he’s talking about. Home is a hill further down the long stretch of road you and Javier grew up on. The hill is in a remote place with a flat top, offering views of many different city lights and lush nature. You’d called it home because it was the place you always went together—and, for you, it was the place where you’d fallen in love with him. So, you don’t hesitate to give him a nod when he suggests it. “Of course, Javi. I’ll grab some drinks and then I’ll drive.”

Javier nods, waiting at the doorframe as you head into the kitchen and take the six-pack of beers you just bought. You grab your keys on the way, figuring you won’t need a jacket in the warm Texas night as you lead the way down to your car. The drive starts out silent, but you break it by deciding to talk about your life first—hoping the rest can just be about Javier.

“It’s been the same old shit around here, Javi,” you inform him, pleased to get a chuckle out of him. “The kids at school, they remind me a lot of us sometimes.”

“Really?” Javier questions, revealing some amusement as he looks over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree with a giggle. “Especially the ones who won’t stop talking in the middle of class.”

Javier snorts. “That was always your fault.”

You scoff. “Excuse me? Weren’t you the one who felt the need to point out whenever Pauline started chewing on her pencil like a rabid dog every day?”

Javier offers a laugh—but it’s not like how it used to be, and upon hearing it, you feel your heart sink a bit into your stomach. “But was I the one who felt the need to talk about how disgusting it was?”

You shake your head, smiling a bit. “Well, anyway, it’s been good. I’ve just missed having you to talk to about the other crazy teachers and my weird next-door neighbor.”

Javier looks back to the windshield. “I’ve missed having you, too.” It almost sounds like he chokes on his words as his gaze shifts to the window beside him. “You have no idea.”

A pit grows in your stomach as you stop the car just below the hill, stepping out of the car and opening the door to the backseat. Javier grabs the beers for you, and you take the blanket you always keep there as you hike up the hill in silence. Once you reach the top, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you smile at the sight of the city lights in the distance. You lay out the blanket and invite Javier to sit on it beside you. He hands you a beer that you crack open, sighing and looking over at him. “So, how was Medellín?” you question. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Javier scoffs, taking a sip of the beer as his gaze stays glued to the city lights. “Everything and more.” The way he says the words is intensely sarcastic, and his gaze falls to the can in his hand as his forefinger and thumb play with the tab. He’s silent for a moment, and you’re not sure how to break it—or if you should. You give him the time to think, or at least show that he wants you to talk, but he soon breaks it himself. “It fucked me up.”

You frown upon hearing the words. “What the hell happened out there, Javi? I saw the news. I saw what Escobar was up to. What was it like for you?”

Javier takes a deep breath, taking another sip of the beer as if to drown his memories. “It was a shitshow.” He finally looks over at you, and your heart constricts at the sight of his darkened gaze. “People want to call me a hero, but… I’m not.” He lets out a strangled breath, his eyes facing the lights once again. “I’m about as much of a hero as Escobar himself.”

You nearly let out a whimper at his self-deprivation, placing your free hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true, Javi,” you reassure him. He just shakes his head slowly. “Whatever you were doing, it was just your job—that’s nothing compared to Escobar’s terrorism.”

“You know what my mantra was down there?” Javier pauses, scoffing before he says the words. “‘Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.’ Tell me that’s not fucking twisted.”

You shrug at him. “Escobar’s been doing some pretty fucked-up things himself. I’m sure you were—.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Javier lets the words slip in an urgent manner, his voice constricted as his grip around the beer can tightens. “You have no idea what I did out there.” He pauses, swallowing hard as he’s unable to look back over at you. “You would’ve hated me. You still might. I wasn’t the person you grew up with. I wasn’t the person my father raised me to be. I wasn’t…” Javier chokes on his words for a second, further breaking your heart before he continues, “… I wasn’t the person my mother was so sure I’d be.”

You resist the urge to cup his face in your hands right then and there and assure him that he is in fact the man you grew up with—the man you fell in love with—instead sitting there and offering your ears to him. “Why? What did you do, Javi?”

Silence. Javier takes another sip of his beer, holding it in both of his hands once he finishes. His thumbs run nervously along the sides of the metal can, and his eyes still refuse to leave the sights ahead of you. “I killed people.” The first words escape him in a ghostly murmur, leaving a chill to run through you. “I tortured some. I blackmailed many. I…” Javier bites his lip, and you feel the pit in your stomach only grow when you spot the moisture growing on the surface of his eyes, “… I practically fucking sold myself for information.”

You’re not sure what to say, so you take a sip of your drink, continuing to look over at Javier and show him you’re listening. When he still doesn’t talk, you try to ease him just a bit. “It can’t be as bad as the things the cartel was doing.”

Javier shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Because you know what?” He finally looks over at you, his self-hatred evident in his gaze. “You want to know why I’m back now?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Because I got caught. I was working with Los Pepes. Fucking Los Pepes. A goddamn terrorist group.” Javier shakes his head, having to break himself away from your gaze again. “Who the hell even am I anymore? What the fuck did I let myself become?”

The brokenness in his voice is enough to make you want to break down into tears, but you stay strong for him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder again. “That was a war you were dealing with down there, Javi. And wars take some seriously shitty circumstances to get a victory.” Javier scoffs at that, as if to agree with you. “You can’t beat yourself up for it. I’m sure many others around you had to do the same things.”

Javier shakes his head, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he reopens them, they’re even glossier than before. “No one else had to—because I did. I was the person they relied on to do the illegal shit.”

You grimace at his words. “Why would they put you in a position like that?”

“They didn’t.” Javier practically growls the words. “I did it to myself. The minute I fucked an informant and it proved effective, that was the only way to get shit done. When they let that slide, it just fueled everything else, and soon I was doing whatever shit I could get away with to get anything on Escobar.”

Your stomach drops at his words. You assume this is what he meant by “selling himself”—and you can tell the strategy has left a heavy toll on him. “How many informants did you have to see?”

Javier takes a deep breath. “Too many.” He shakes his head, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check before continuing. “I used them. And I let them use me. And I practically whored myself out all the time just for a goddamn crumb on a drug lord.” Javier’s eyes close, and his head falls as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you know how worthless that made me feel? All that intimate connection with absolutely no strings attached. My own bosses getting on my case if I hadn’t gotten information in a while. Depending on me to get a fuck in so they could keep chasing Escobar.”

His voice begins to break, and you see his chest attempting to heave back a breath. Your heart shatters in your chest, breaking beyond belief. “I felt like a piece of shit. And that’s probably what let me do everything else so easily. Who would care if I pulled a trigger? I was worthless, anyway—at least it wasn’t an actual decent human being doing it.” Javier looks back up, a tear managing to escape his eye as he tries to hide it from you. “And I hated myself for all of it. I still do.” He stifles a sob as he finishes. “I fucking hate myself.”

You can’t resist the urge anymore, and you set your drink beside you on the blanket as you take his face in your hands. You make him face you again, and you can see the other tears that have managed to make their way onto his cheeks. Your thumbs attempt to brush them away as you look at him seriously. “Don’t, Javi. You’re not any of the things you think you are. You were just put in a shitty situation with terrible circumstances—and you did what you could with it. You’re worth everything. What matters now is that you know it was wrong.” You catch another escaped tear with your thumb, hating the sight of him breaking so badly in front of you. “If you had to do it all again, would you?”

Javier blinks a few times before shaking his head. You give him an encouraging smile.

“Then that’s enough to prove that you’re not the man you think you are. You’ve grown from this. You reached a deep and dark place, and that happens. But to me, you’re still the same man I grew up with, the same man I’ve been waiting so long for.” You hesitate, wondering if you should finish the thought. At the sight of Javier’s utterly broken heart being placed so visibly on his sleeve, you can’t help yourself from offering the same kind of openness back to him. “You’re still the same man I fell in love with—a long, long time ago.”

Javier’s eyes soften at your words, but disbelief fills his expression. He swallows hard, almost looking confused. “Fell in love with?”

You give him a nod, anxiety creating a storm inside you as you run another thumb over his cheek. “Ever since the sixth grade.”

Javier sighs, his hands grabbing yours and gently removing them from his face. You panic for a moment, fearing that you’ve said too much and done exactly what you’ve feared you’d do for so long with this confession, but it subsides when he holds them both tenderly between his own. His gaze looks down at them but returns to you soon after. “You have no idea how badly I needed you there with me. I thought about you every day. Every damn day. And in those moments when I thought a trigger was gonna get pulled on me, I always saw your face—and I always regretted that I never told you the way I felt.” Javier sighs, giving your hands a squeeze. “Because I’ve loved you for so long. And I always tried to hide it, or at least deny it. Yet, inevitably, it followed me everywhere. It got me out of every single high school relationship. It tore me apart from that altar. It made me realize how much I needed you when I was giving everything to strangers in Medellín.” Javier shakes his head, looking at you with a furrowed brow. “But I don’t understand how you could possibly love me now. Not after all of that.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep your own emotions away, shaking your head back at him. “It’s because I know who you really are, Javi. I know the man I grew up with, the man who got on that plane to Colombia, and I still know the man who’s sitting in front of me now. I know that you can grow, and you can pick yourself back up from the worst of tumbles.” You free one of your hands from his to hold his cheek once again, feeling your heart soar as he leans desperately into your touch. “I know that I thought of you every day, too. That I lost sleep over your well-being. That whenever I saw what the hell Escobar was up to, I regretted not telling you how I felt—because I wasn’t sure if you’d even make it back here. And now I know that I’m going to help you keep growing from here.” You start leaning your face closer to Javier’s, waiting until you can feel his labored breathing on your face. You look deep into his dark eyes, the ones you fell in love with so long ago, and offer him a small smile. “Because I love you, Javier Peña, and you can’t make me stop so easily.”

Javier smiles back at you, and for the first time since you’d seen him again, you see that old sparkle come back in his gaze. “I love you too.” His voice is a hushed whisper, and he brushes his lips against yours. “More than you’ll ever know.”

With that, his lips press fully against yours, causing your heart to explode within your chest at the contact you’ve been waiting way too damn long for. The way his lips move against yours is so familiar and so right, making every moment you’ve waited more than worth it. You crave more of him, loving the way he takes you into his arms and pulls you closer to him. Yet, knowing it’s still an adjustment for him, you pull away from Javier much sooner than wanted, bringing your other hand up to hold both sides of his face once again. His dark eyes are still sparkling, and he finally starts to look as full of life as he did the day he left.

“Don’t worry, Javi,” you assure him in a soft murmur. “We’ll get the real you back before you know it.” You lean up to place a kiss on his forehead, seeing Javier smile even wider at you before he captures your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

#don't mind me crying rn #I love him so much please #it HURTS #javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #O U C H

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

one day...

Hi! This is the beginning of the first fanfiction that I’m posting here! I hope people like it!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of anxiety/a panic attack. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,691

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CHAPTER ONE

Virgil Tempest is having a bad day.

First of all, he’d woken up late. 30 minutes late, to be exact. That left him only 10 to get ready for school, so he didn’t have time to put on his foundation. Now, the feature he hated most about himself — his freckles — would be visible for all to see.

Secondly, his favorite hoodie was in the wash, so he had to wear his old, plain black one that he hadn’t worn since at least seventh grade. It was buried in the way back of his closet, wedged between a leather jacket he’d completely forgotten he owned and the suit he had only worn once, at a funeral for some distantly related family member.

Thirdly, he forgot his headphones at home in his rush, and so now he had to suffer the whole day, unable to block out the noise of his idiotic school. He thought he had a spare pair in his backpack, but when he looked once he got to school, there weren’t any in sight.

Earlier, he thought it couldn’t get any worse, but he is sure now that it was just building up to this.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Roman Princeford apologizes loudly from above him. To say Virgil dislikes Roman would be an understatement. Roman has a ridiculously pompous name and a personality to match. The star theater kid, popular king of the school, and friend to everyone. Well, everyone except for Virgil. Even Virgil’s only friend, Logan Wise, a class-A nerd, likes Roman.

Needless to say, Virgil doesn’t see Roman’s appeal. Maybe, if Roman could stand to be a whole lot less arrogant, say, every day, or if he stopped being so excessively extra, or if he just took the time to do something other than theater and bragging, he might be tolerable. The key word there being ‘might.’

“It’s fine,” Virgil mumbles from the floor, where he had landed after Roman knocked into him while Virgil was walking. Roman had been talking to his usual group of fans, taking up most of the hallway since pretty much everyone wanted to listen to him, and had thrown out an arm in one of his usual grand gestures and pushed Virgil right over. He’d landed on the floor, books strewn everywhere, being watched by the whole hallway. Of course, it’s more crowded than usual thanks to the tall tale Roman was describing that apparently no one could afford to miss out on. It didn’t help that Roman had decided to make a big deal out of it, either.

Wishing this terrible day could just end already, Virgil shifts to a crouch and begins to gather his books. To his utter dismay, Roman bends down to help him. Annoyed as he is, Virgil can’t get up the courage to tell the other boy to leave him alone. Even so, the work goes quicker with the other boy helping, and, as much as he would hate to ever admit it, Virgil appreciates it.

They both reach for the last book on the ground at the same time, and their hands knock into each other.

“S-Sorry,” Roman says, and Virgil thinks he hears a stutter in his voice. Roman Princeford, the theater prodigy who never messes up a line, stuttering? But when Virgil looks up at Roman, there’s a blush working its way across the other boy’s tan cheeks. Strange. This close, Virgil can see the bluish specks in the other boy’s green eyes.

Roman must feel Virgil’s eyes on him, because he looks back at him, handing him his last book. Dread settles in Virgil’s stomach as he realizes that Roman must be able to see his freckles. Just as he remembers, Roman’s eyes drop to the other’s nose, where the freckles are the most noticeable. Shit, Virgil curses.

Yanking the book away from Roman, Virgil turns away and stands up, and Roman soon follows suit. There’s a redness on both of their faces now, but on Virgil’s pale skin, it’s much more visible. How long was I staring at his eyes? He shakes his head, letting his dyed-purple bangs fall over his face.

Resituating his books in his arms and weaving his way through the people, he starts the walk to his next class, art.

“Have a nice day!” Roman calls from behind him. Virgil sighs and pulls up his hood, wishing now more than ever that he had his headphones.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the whole next period, all he can think about is Roman Princeford’s bright green eyes, tan skin, and wavy blond hair.

I must be going crazy, he decides. I mean, I know I’m gay, but gay for Roman Princeford, of all people? I don’t know him at all, and from what I’ve heard — and experienced — he’s not someone I would ever get along with. There’s no way I could possibly have a crush on him.

Right?

------------------

At lunch, Virgil drops down in the seat next to Logan with a thud.

“Greetings,” Logan states professionally. “Am I misperceiving your body language and demeanor or was your day thus far below average in terms of relative happiness and unpleasantly abnormal?” Virgil looks at him around his bangs, puzzled.

“What?” Is he even speaking English? Virgil wonders.

“Pardon me, I forget that you are intellectually compromised when it comes to my copious vocabulary. Let me rephrase,” Logan proclaims. He clears his throat and lays his hands on the table, his fingers pressed together to form triangle-like shapes. “Did your day suck or are you just being your—” Logan waves a hand at Virgil’s body— “regular grumpy asshole self?”

Virgil is taken aback for a second before he rolls his eyes.

“Roman fucking Princeford bumped into me in the hallway, and then had the nerve to say, ‘Have a nice day!’ afterwards in that disgustingly cheery voice of his!” Virgil complains, poking at his food. He doesn’t really intend on eating any of it; the school’s food is terrible, and besides, he isn’t too hungry anyway. He has some crackers in his bag if he really needs something to eat later.

“I do not understand why you antagonize him so often, but I suppose if you refuse to change your opinions of him, there isn’t much I can do on the matter.” Logan pauses, and Virgil has a feeling he knows what’s coming next: one of Logan’s rare discussions of emotions. “But you shouldn’t just assume that everyone is out to hurt you, Virgil.”

Yup, there it is. Virgil likes Logan’s company because he isn’t too tied up in his emotions, unlike Virgil. He knows the facts, and that’s relieving when Virgil is in the midst of a period of overwhelming anxiety. But sometimes, Logan thinks he knows what’s best for Virgil, especially when it comes to matters concerning Roman Princeford.

Scoffing, Virgil crosses his arms and leans against the back of the chair. “Whatever,” he sighs.

Logan takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his temper, which has a habit of getting out of control, and responds, “Virgil, this is unhealthy. You have—” But before Virgil can find out what Logan thinks he has to do, another voice cuts Logan off.

“Heya, guys! How are you?” Virgil looks up to see a shorter student standing there. This new kid’s hair is a mess of amber curls, tumbling over his forehead and slipping behind his round, wire rimmed glasses. Tan skin covered in freckles and a round face gives him a youthful look, but Virgil knows that he’s a junior just like him.

His name is Patton Hart, and Virgil, surprisingly, doesn’t hate him.

Patton is known for being one of the kindest people in the school. No matter who it is, Patton will find a way to cheer someone up. Back in December of their freshman year, Patton helped Virgil calm down during a panic attack around finals. Virgil harbors no ill will towards the kid, but it’s still strange that he’d show up at their table randomly.

Then, Virgil remembers that Patton’s best friend is the one and only Roman Princeford.

Roman probably sent Patton to tell me something. Damn, I hate that stuck up asshole. Before Virgil can open his mouth to ask Patton what he wants with them, since Logan and him are the only ones anywhere near, Logan talks first.

“Hi, Patton!” His voice is so upbeat and joy-filled that Virgil has to look over at Logan to make sure he did, indeed, speak. In the seat next to him, Logan’s face is lit up with a smile, and he looks so…well, not-Logan. And, wait, is that a blush on Logan’s cheeks?

Virgil raises his eyebrows in shock and blinks a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is real. When nothing changes when he opens his eyes, Virgil ignores the strangeness of whatever’s happening next to him and looks back at Patton.

“Hey, Patton,” he greets. “What do you need?” He tries to keep his voice annoyance-free, so not to hurt the other kid’s feelings. Patton’s a little puffball of innocence and positive energy, and the whole school has made an unspoken agreement to keep it that way.

“Oh, I just came over to talk to Logan about our science project!”

“We were paired together as lab partners today,” Logan explains, still with that wide smile on his face.

Weirded out by the scene unfolding in front of him, Virgil pokes at his food one last time and decides he’s not so hungry to risk getting food poisoning.

“Alright, then,” he says, standing up, “I’ll leave you guys alone so you can talk about your nerdy physics stuff.”

“Actually, Virgil, it’s chemistry we’re taking,” Logan informs him, some semblance of his usual professional manner returning.

“Well, it’s still science, and it’s still nerdy, so my point stands.”

Patton giggles, and Logan seems to blush, but at this point, Virgil doesn’t trust his own eyes.

“Well, goodbye, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, waving. Virgil laughs at Patton’s use of ‘kiddo’ even though they're in the same grade and waves back. Telling Logan that he’ll see him later, he turns and dumps his try, finally exiting the noise of the cafeteria.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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lovedsammy · 3 years

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I saw your Sastiel pack and LOVED it! Why does anyone ship Castiel with Dean though, he treats him terribly? Is Dean like that with everyone AKA if I watch SPN will I be constantly wincing in empathy?

Oh wow, thank you so much for this! Suffice it to say, this could become a rather long response, so I’ll make sure to put it under a read more.

Question for you, nonnie: are the Sastiel scene packs the only exposure you’ve had to SPN? If you’re thinking of watching it, there is a whole lot more to it, believe me, but let me explain this as best as I can for you. <3

The way you see Dean treating Cas in the scene packs is admittedly only a part of their relationship, but it’s the most PREVALENT part. It’s what you’ll see happen between them the most. There are moments of friendliness, even ‘shippy’ moments if you get that vibe.

I used to ship Destiel way back in the s4-s8 era. Initially, my reasons for liking it were that I loved how Cas expressed emotion whenever he spent time around Dean, and the idea of an angel falling in love with a human appealed to me (i.e: Cas FALLING BECAUSE HE FELL IN LOVE). I liked the idea of Dean, a man who didn’t believe in Heaven and angels, finding this one angel and seeing that they can be good. Cas saved Dean from Hell, after all. They were having so many moments together that went from outright hostility on Dean’s end to something of a comradeship and a hint of something more. I definitely saw some of the appeal.

However, that appeal was short-sighted and it was heavily influenced by members of the fandom (the pro-Destiel camp that insisted on seeing it literally EVERYWHERE). I was sucked in, incorporated their views as my own, and hadn’t quite decided where I felt ‘at home’ in the fandom. Especially because when the scene in 4x07 happened and Cas and Sam met for the first time, my first thought was: “Oh shit, I could end up shipping this. I already love their dynamic.” But it was a low-key thought, because bringing up a potential for Sastiel at that time when the fandom was mostly loud Destiel shippers that outright hated Sam, much less the idea of him with DEAN’S angel? You’d get torn to shreds, lmao. So I kept those thoughts to myself, having no outlet to talk about them, until I finally came over to the Sam side of the fandom, risking losing friends and followers along the way, and I definitely did. I unfollowed some people that I initially really liked because of how they made Sam fans feel and how they felt about Sam in general.

I really do think the primary reasons for shipping Destiel are that:

A) Brother bias. A lot of the SPN fans I’ve encountered are generally more of Dean fans than Sam. Sam gets so much flack both within and outside of the fandom. So naturally, Dean fans are going to be more invested in dynamics and relationships for him than they are for Sam.

B) Dean and Cas had a lot more moments together very early on, so they had more of a ‘foundation.’ I guarantee you that if Sastiel had been given the same amount of screen time early, it likely would’ve gone a different direction.

C) Cas’s development - or expansion - of emotions occurred primarily around Dean. The show is very Dean-centered (biased) and you see the show a lot through his eyes. You need to read between the lines and look at it with a different perspective to get Sam’s, much less anyone else’s. So if you’re fixating on moments where Cas is emotional, you think it’s happening because of Dean. But there were many scenes where after talking to Sam, Cas expressed emotion, doubt, and other emotions. Plus, we hadn’t known at the time that Cas had been created with a crack in his chassis, and was already predispositioned to loving humanity and only by meeting Dean (and Sam) was that brought out.

D) The desperation for queer rep. Sadly, there are plenty of Destiel shippers who are straight girls that just want to see two hot men get it on, but there are many people of the LGBTQ+ community that are genuinely looking for good representation. I think the idea of Destiel is something that could’ve worked for rep had it been done right, but it wasn’t. I’m all for more rep, and good rep at that. I consider myself Ace, but still going through it all, so I’m not very involved in the community (although I’m definitely an ally) and I want rep that everyone can feel represents them. What most Destiel shippers don’t seem to get is that people who are LGBTQ+ are not always Destiel shippers and I have plenty of friends who are queer or bi or trans that ship Sastiel or Wincest instead. It comes down less to people who are anti-Destiel being homophobic and more of that some of us just... don’t like abusive relationships, which Destiel definitely falls under.

If you decide to watch the show:

Yes, Dean is very often abusive towards Cas. He’s abusive towards Sam, too as well as Jack. He has anger issues and outbursts that the show loves to sweep under the rug because it’s naturally biased towards him. However, early on especially, we are shown that he can still be good, be gentle, and loving at times. The last 10 or so seasons, we kind of lost some of that. I had to go episode by episode in how I felt about Dean. The most important piece of advice I can give you is watch the show for yourself, and don’t let anyone else’s views impact how you see it.

#Anonymous #anti destiel #asks

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notagamersdey · 3 years

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Thats Not Me

By Tyler Dey Ortiz

Rated T

A young woman struggles to find something to wear for a very important job interview.

Warning: Familial fat-phobia, self consciousness

I went shopping for something to wear to tonight’s party. I was at Factory-2-U debating on getting a pencil skirt with a nice blue blouse or a pink dress. However, I didn’t pick either, settling with a form-fitting, black long-sleeved dress that went a little over my knees and some random black flats. It was the most professional thing I could find. The thing was that I couldn’t find the dress in my size! Granted, I wear a size too big but that’s only because tight things make me feel uncomfortable. When I buy things that fit me “perfectly,” I feel the need to flex my stomach so tight that I’m usually sore in the morning. It's not because I’m super overweight or anything but I hate the way my body looks in my perfect size. It also didn’t help that this dress was meant to be snug. No matter, the point is to look professional, to show who I can be, so it’ll be worth it.

About the party tonight. It’s more of a dinner. A dinner with my, hopefully, future employer, Mr. Darcy. The whole point of the dinner is to present myself in a way that will make him think I’m well suited for the job. How did I get this opportunity? I presented my college research at the state conference this past semester and Mr. Darcy witnessed my hard work. I had been developing this new technique in nanotechnological engineering and everyone, I mean everyone who saw my work in progress said that it was unnecessary. No one had seen the bigger picture yet; however, Mr. Darcy did. He approached me after the presentation and told me about his new company. A company that I was meant for. Therefore, I went shopping for a new outfit - to present myself as the woman I wish to be.

It’s currently 3:00pm. Plenty of time to get ready. I first take a shower. It was hotter than usual today, so I spent a little extra time under the water trying to scrub the sun off my skin. After my shower, I go to my room and start to get ready. I was supposed to meet Mr. Darcy at this new fancy place over on Red Cross Avenue called The French Ocean. Anyways, so, I put the dress on and look down at my body. I'm around 5’5, thin but with a little too much around my stomach. The dress covered my chest up to my neck and covered my arms in a flattering way. When I sucked my stomach in, I could see the appeal of wearing such a dress. It brought out all the correct curves without looking too revealing. However, letting go, I remember why I never wore stuff like this in the first place. But, luckily, he won't see it over the table.

Now, I just needed the makeup. I’ll admit...I’ve never worn makeup before. The most I’ve worn is concealer but that was almost twelve years ago. The reason? Well, I just never got into it. I thought it was a waste of time. Watching my mother get up every morning and take hours in our only restroom was excruciating. However, tonight I must be perfect, so I caved. I don’t have any makeup at my house so I decided Walmart would be a good start. I went up and down the aisle, looking at all the different brands and colors that were offered. Some were more expensive than the clothes I bought; some were just right. But how do I choose? I pick up the phone and dial reinforcements.

“Mom?” I say once the phone is answered.

“Mija? Joan? How are you! What are you doing?” My mom begins in excitement.

“Ma, which goes first? The foundation or the concealer?” I put a bottle of concealer into my basket.

“Aye, Joan...” she sighs, “Come over... I don't trust you.”

“Well... then tell me what to buy-”

“Where are you?” I could hear rustling in the background.

“Walmart-”

“Aye no... definitely no, I have everything you need. Don’t buy that mierda,” she hangs up.

I rolled my eyes, put the foundation back and walked back to my car. As soon as I arrived at my mom's house, she attacked me with questions. “Who's the boy?” “Is this for a job?” “Aye, Mija, what color lipstick goes with your skin tone? Let's see! Come! Come!” She pushed me all the way upstairs and into a swivel chair that sat in front of a dirty mirror and desk. Makeup covered the desk from side to side. She had enough to start up her own business. Piles and piles that barely left enough room to see my face in the mirror. After looking at my mom's makeup collection, I caught sight of myself: brown fly-away hairs that framed my round head, white skin flushed from the heat of the sun, dry lips. I had light bags around my blue eyes. My eyebrows un-plucked, no false eyelashes or extensions, not that I’ve ever had them. Honestly, I don’t think I look bad without makeup, but I don’t think my mom agreed.

“Don't worry Mija, I’m going to make you look beautiful.” Mom presses her lips to my cheek, looking at me through the mirror. Suddenly, she whips me around in the swivel chair, pulling my eyes away from myself, “Alright, Joan, what comes first is not the concealer or the foundation but the moisturizer. It's important to keep your skin nice and smooth...”

My mom's voice bled into a low-pitched ambience. She began to apply the moisturizer. I can faintly hear her describe the steps. She said something about primer, whatever that was and then moved towards the foundation. I studied the bottle in her hands. It looked a bit dark. Mom did always like the tanned look but I’m not sure how well that would work on me.

“Don’t you think that’s too dark?”

My mom scoffs, “I have my methods, Mija, don’t worry. They will find you irresistible.” She begins applying. The liquid felt oily and sticky on my face.

“Ma, it’s a professional dinner, not a date. Please, don’t put too much.”

She begins to apply the concealer, which was followed by the powder. I move my hand to scratch my brow which my Mother immediately smacked down, “Don't touch my masterpiece,” she said. I groaned at her. The more she added, the more ridiculous I felt. I could feel the powder on every square inch of my face, sitting there, waiting to be rubbed off.

Suddenly, I remembered the time. It’s 5:01pm. “Ma, how much longer, I don't want to get stuck in traffic.”

She grabs the round tablet looking makeup and a thin brush, “Don’t worry about it, you'll be fine.” She does a few swoops on my cheeks and nose. God, I don’t know how much longer I can take it. “Next is my favorite part,” she sang, “Eye shadow!” She grabs a color palate and another brush. “Alright Joan, what color is the outfit?” I look down at what I’m wearing. My mom's eyes follow mine down the front of my body. “That? Joan, you look like chorizo in that dress!”

“Don't. Please...”

“I would lend you something, but I think it would all be a bit too small for you.”

“Yea... thanks, can we continue? I don’t have all day.”

“Why are you doing this anyway?” She asks, “You’ve never shown any interest before.”

She pulls my eye lid down and swoops the harsh brush upwards. My eyes water as she scolds at m, telling me to stop blinking, “I just want to be taken seriously.” She hums as a reply when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. Without looking, I answer it.

“Joan? It’s Michael, Michael Darcy. I’ve got a table near the bar.” Oh Shit.

“Oh really?” I push up, my mom fusses, and I look at the time. 6:03. Shit, shit, shit. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, there’s a wreck on the freeway. Cars everywhere. I'm almost there though.”

“Oh... Don’t worry about it, take your time. I’ll be here. What would you like to drink?”

“Water, please! Thank you!” I hang up. I move quickly, “Thanks Ma! Got to go! Love you!”

“Wait! The setting-spray!” I was already out the door.

The restaurant is dark, red, with only low overhead lamps lighting each table. As I pass the entrance podium, I see a hand fly up at the corner of my eye. It was Mr. Darcy. He wore burgundy coat and pants, with a golden button-down shirt. His brown wavy hair was slightly combed back, his face clean shaven. He stands as I approach, extending his hand, giving me a firm shake. His forehead creased as he bore a slight frown. Great, great first impression, Joan… He shakes my hand once, sitting back down.

“I’m so sorry, I’m late Mr. Darcy, you would not believe the traffic.” I say, sitting across from him.

“No worries, Miss Joan, these things happen.” His voice was calm, professional. He straightens his back, grabbing the serviette and gently folding it onto his lap.

A waiter approaches, “What can I get you two?”

Mr. Darcy speaks first, “Yes… I’ll have the Meunière.”

The waiter turns to me, “I’ll have the same as he.” I have no idea what a Meunière was. I can feel the butterflies churning in my stomach. The overhead lamp, dim as it is, feels like the sun is just sitting on my face. I feel as though I’m melting. I wipe my face a bit, trying to stop the sweat building. Mr. Darcy’s face turns to a grimace.

Heat fills my cheeks, “Is something wrong?” I ask.

He blinks a few times and coughs, “No not at all... Um… Tell me a bit about yourself...”

“Well, uh...” what kind of question was that? What do I say? I feel my heart start to pound. “I like engineering...” I sound like an idiot. I feel like I'm suffocating. It's hot.

His eyebrows furrow, “Are you alright?”

“Yea,” I say as I stumble out of my seat, “Sorry, I’m just going to head to the loo...” The loo, out of everything I could say, I say the loo?? I rush towards the restroom and look in the mirror. I look horrendous. The makeup, foundation, concealer or whatever was too dark. The eye liner was so thick and bulky, I looked 10 years older than I was. The worst part though, was that I ruined it. I had wiped half my face off! Tears start to well. I tried so hard to be this perfect, professional woman, and instead I… I look like a pretender.

I take a deep breath. I go to the nearest stall and grab a wad of tissue paper. I look at myself in the mirror again. No... that’s not me.

It was hard to take off the makeup without the proper wipes, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I come back out. The edges of my forehead discolored. My face raw and damp. Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened at the sight of my face as I plop back into my seat, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes... I just... I didn’t feel myself; I wasn’t being me...” I half smile, hoping he would understand.

He doesn’t do anything for a bit. I start to think that maybe I just ruined dinner when he stands, takes off his coat, ruffles his hair, and rolls his sleeves up. He sits back down, leaning against his chair, extending his legs to full length as he crosses his ankles, as if he was trying to lay down. His face brightens and his eyes crinkle as he grabs his wine glass, “Then, Ms. Joan...” he takes a sip, “who are you?”

#my writing #short stories #tw fat phobia #mental health #creative writing

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willow-salix · 4 years

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Day 98 of Isolation on Tracy Island and no one is moving today, well, me, Virgil and Alan are fine physically but we are being lazy and hanging out on the couches with the rest of the ones that had attempted to hula hoop. The thing with hooping is that it takes weeks to toughen up your skin and muscles to cope with such a pounding as they will get from 2kilos of hoop slamming into them over and over at speed, I’d warned them, they hadn’t listened. Them of the rock hard abs had thought they had it covered, now they are regretting being so cocky and are laying around groaning every time they try to move.

We were laying there like sloths refusing to move (yes, John is wearing his rodeo shirt and I am wearing my hideous T-shirt and no, neither of us are complaining because we are adults) me because I had no real reason to need to move and I’d much rather lay there and veg than actually deal with moving and them because they were hurting.

They were all lying around in various poses of ouch, Scott was draped artfully in one of the bucket seats, looking relaxed but I knew the real reason was because the curved back was actually helping him get in and out of it, he had his tablet with him and was apparently catching up on some admin, but I know him and I know the look on his face and it definitely wasn't paperwork he was looking at. My money would be on him watching a movie with the subtitles on.

Alan was playing a hand held video game with Gordon, Virgil was tinkling on the piano working on a new composition which was actually a fascinating process to watch, he’d hum a little, plink out a few notes, hum again, play with a little variation and then write it down.

John was stretched out on the couch, his back resting against my chest because apparently I'm comfier and I was being nice by rubbing his abused stomach soothingly. I had stolen my ipod back from Scott and had my headphones on and was seriously vibing, totally chilled out and just loving life when the comm on Jeff’s desk beeped.

I allowed John to sit up from his prone position stretched across my lap and helped drag him to his feet when he couldn’t get his abdominals to obey his commands.

“Not so fun when it’s happening to you, is it,” Virgil laughed, earning himself a level 4 John glare, patent pending. But Space man was still lighter on his feet than the lumbering elephant Virgil had been doing an impression of and was soon easing gently into the desk chair.

“Yes EOS? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I believe so,” she answered.

“Then is there something I can help with?”

“I think we have another one of those calls, but I’m not sure so I thought you should listen first.”

John rolled his eyes and Scott groaned.

“Put it through then, thanks, EOS.”

“Hello?” a young sounding voice spoke over the comms.

“This is International Rescue, how may we be of assistance today?” John asked, immediately slipping into his calm, capable work tone.

“Hello,” the sound of a muffled giggle could be heard somewhere in the background and John lifted his hand to cut the call. I jumped into action, slashing my hand at him in a ‘don’t you dare’ gesture. We were all bored, but I had an idea of how to make it better.

I sat down on the edge of the desk and made a continue motion with my hand.

“Can I have your name, caller?”

“Erm...name?”

“Yes, it’s standard procedure.”

“My...my name's Yuri,” another muffled giggle. “Yuri Nator.”

Alan and Gordon snorted with laugher, although Scott didn't look impressed and neither did John, Virgil just looked resigned to the fact that all teenagers were idiots. I could understand that one.

I gestured for him to let me take over and launched into my best impression of Janine from Ghostbusters.

“International Rescue, what do you want?”

This time even Scott sniggered. John, being John, lent back in his chair and let me work my magic, he’d seen this happen far too many times.

“So, Mr Nator, can you tell me a bit about your situation?” I continued.

“Well, I’m trapped.”

“Trapped, OK let me just pull up my forms for trapped citizens,” I paused for a few seconds then continued. “On a scale of one to ten how trapped would you say you are?”

“How trapped?”

“It’s not a hard question, how trapped are we talking? Have you just got a smashed ankle or have you lost your whole leg? Have you had to gnaw off any of your own limbs? Come on kid, time is money, you know we charge by the minute, right? This is going on your phone bill.”

“Trapped erm...maybe a five?”

“Five, alright, now where are you trapped on a scale of one to ten, one being you tripped over a hole in the sidewalk and a twig landed on you and ten being you are currently held hostage under the sea by three mermaids and a whale?”

Gordon buried his face in a pillow to stop his laughter carrying across the room.

“Maybe a three?”

“Three, alright, trapped down a well, got it. Now, do you have any friends or relatives with you?”

“No, I’m alone,” frantic whispering was heard over the line.

“Totally alone, OK, I’ll add Billy no mates to your record, nearly done, just a few more questions before I pass you over to the relevant department head. Now, can you tell me if you are wearing pants or shorts today, please?”

“Erm...pants.”

“Has wet his pants, added to your case file. Now, Yuri Nator with the wet pants, can you please confirm your location?”

“I’m..not sure?”

“Tracing your calls to find your location I’ll add lost idiot to your file, transferring you now and thank you for using International Rescue as your rescuing service today.” I beckoned Gordon over and I swear I’ve never seen him move so fast, even with his sore tummy, although he had to take a deep breath before talking.

“Hey, this is the water rescue department, how may I help you today?”

“Erm...nothing, I’m fine. All good here.”

“My file says that you are a Yuri Nator and have wet your pants because you were scared when you fell down a well. Is that correct? Can I just ask you if Timmy is down there with you?”

“Timmy? I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone named Timmy.”

“No Timmy, check. Any Lassie’s? Because if there is a Lassie I’m afraid that is out of our jurisdiction and we’ll have to pass this case over to animal control.”

“No Lassie.”

“No Lassie, good to hear, you’d really know you’re in trouble if they bring out the big dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Yep, dogs. Now, the problem we’re going to have is that being in a well, it’s going to be a bit too snug to maneuver Thunderbird Four down there, so we’re going to have to come up with an alternative plan. I’m going to pass you over to our logistics department to follow up on your case. Have a great day, don’t let the well piranhas bite you too hard, that will invalidate your rescuers insurance. Thanks for using us as your rescuers today.”

Gordon handed the call over to Scott, who took it on his comm, not wanting to move from his comfy spot.

“Logistics department,” Scott barked out in his toughest commander voice, the one that every one of his younger brothers knew meant big trouble. “I’m going to ask you some questions, you just have to say yes or no, got it?”

There was silence on the other end of the call.

“I asked you a question, do you understand me?”

There was a rattling sound as the phone was passed around a few times and then went dead.

John hit a button and called the number back.

“Hello?” a different voice answered.

“We know where you are, we know where you live, we know where this phone is registered, we are sending help to your location. We were told that you are trapped and as animal control is not involved we will be continuing our attempt to rescue you,” John informed him, just managing to hold in a laugh until Scott took over again.

"Logistics, do you have a basic education? Yes or no?"

"Yes?"

"You don't sound so sure of that. Do you have any plans to attend college?"

"Maybe?"

"Useless layabout, got it. Have you ever thrown up on a ride?"

"N-no…"

"The truth, now!"

"Yes."

"Adding will blow chunks to your case file. Have you tried to get yourself out of your situation?"

"No."

"Not very resourceful, got it. Now, how did you get into your current situation, did you trip, fall while looking or were you pushed?"

"I...tri- no I fell in."

"Adding clumsy idiot to your file, passing you over to the next department."

Virgil grinned as he took over.

“This is the International Rescue land rescue department, I'm the ground control operator,” he told them as Alan came and sat down beside him on the piano stool.

“We’ve been told that you are trapped down a well and that a water rescue is not possible so we need to determine if we can attempt a land rescue,” he continued in his most pleasant voice.

“Land rescue?”

“But the problem with a land rescue is that we’d have to drill down under the foundations of the well and try to break through its outer core, there is a number of risks involved in this, including drowning, crushing, cave in, impaling with a large drill and suffocation as the air is sucked out. Can we just ask which would be your preferred risk to take?”

“Risk?” the voice on the phone sounded even younger and now completely terrified.

“There’s always risks involved, kid. Do I take it that none of these options appeal to you?”

“N-no they don’t.”

“Then I have no choice but to pass you on to our space department. Have a nice rescue.”

“Space department here, how may I rescue you today?” Alan joined in, already enjoying himself.

“Space rescue? I’m not in space.”

“No, but you will be! Isn’t that cool?”

“I’ll be in space?”

“Yeah, the plan is to lower a rope down to you from Thunderbird Three. Then you’ll tie it around your waist, make sure you tie that sucker good and tight, we don’t want you coming undone half way up now, do we?”

“No?”

“That is correct. Also, remember not to hold your breath when you leave earth's atmosphere or your lungs will explode. Got it?”

“What? Explode?” the caller’s voice had taken on a fearfully high pitch.

“Uh oh, I can now confirm that we have added a code brown to the wet pants situation, Thunderbird Two. Caller, are you still there? We’ll be there to pick you up in an hour, be ready to see some stars!”

“No! I’m sorry, we lied, no one is in trouble, we’re sorry, we’re so sorry. Please don’t tell our moms or charge us for the call. We won’t do it again.”

“Tell your friends!” Alan chirped as John hung up the call.

We were silent for a second or two before we all burst out laughing, which led to many painful groans as sore stomachs protested. But it had certainly cheered us up.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #tracy island #tracy boys #isolation island #thunderbirds in isolation #isolation #social isolation

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ofcloudsandstars · 4 years

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hi, i'm fairly new to witchcraft and i was wondering if you could give me some tips on getting started/link me to reputable sources? i'd hate to accidentally disrespect someone or something.

Hey there! Thanks for your ask. Don't worry too much about the fear of treading somewhere you shouldn't be if you remember this metaphor: Witchcraft is going to be a unique experience to you and it's going to feel a lot like you are building something with a structure, like a house. Everyone's path is kind of like their own house. As long as you don't break into someone's house, or even someone's neighborhood (especially the neighborhoods with a lot of fucking theft and trespassing) then you are good. You can ask for advice or borrow sugar from your neighbors ;) but you do that by what you are doing now: kindly knocking on the door and asking.

I think everyone gets really into trying to follow traditions and such but it's best to start the first few years building a relationship with yourself and your energy before you start the whole reading and researching (and I will get more on this later) along with connecting to deities as well. Everything else is just adding on to your craft but I feel like if you have a solid foundation understanding your own energy then everything else comes naturally. Also once you understand your energy and your connection to magic and nature around you, trying to dig through other cultures and practices won't seem as appealing. It will start to be clear that those cultures created languages and well, cultures, around their relationships with magic and the local nature surrounding them, and you will essentially create your own unique traditions based on your relationship with magic and the local nature surrounding you. It will become apparent that the 'universal energies' everyone talks about is really about how the universe and energies manifest through you and less about finding other cultures accessible because they talk about these same energies. If you think of it like art class it's kind of like how everyone uses the same mediums of art utensils like paints and crayons, but there's a difference between using the same paint and flat out stealing the finished painting from someone else and calling it your own. You should use these first few years to discover your own painting style. (Also other witches I meet that have similar approach to magic as I do all have the same sort of connection and understanding since it's like we are all tapped into the universal energy but it's beautiful cause it manifests uniquely through all of us so it's like the same way nature creates many unique plants, many unique animals or landscapes yet it's all apart of one earth, we are all unique witches reflecting the earth, planets and elements but all kind of the vibe and understanding).

To elaborate on the reading thing, the reason why I am against doing endless research when you first start is because like 85% of witchcraft is subjective since most of it is based off of people's connection to their energy. The part of magic that is not subjective is the relationship to local nature since plants and other elements of nature have their own spirits and actual physical properties that can heal you, bring you to other realms, poison you, transform you etc. The best way to learn from this is less from magical books and more from herbal medicine books, alchemy, farmer's almanacs and indigenous knowledge (as long as you are not taking plants from them that are being over harvested to the point that it's inaccessible to even them.) But anyway aside from the physical realm, the energetic realm is really a big personal experience. Even you asking me this, this is mostly based off of my years of experience practicing. I am a multiracial witch that is nomadic and have lived in different climates among different countries and cultures and am first generation with not much connection to my immediate heritages. So I had to create my practice from (literally) the ground up. My magic came to me when I was super young and I didn't even think of it as witchcraft then I felt more like I was bending energy and circumstance. I was first an energy witch before anything. My witchcraft practice came from nature, the cycles around me and nature's spirits. Though I may not connect with a culture cause my relationship to that is complicated, I find my practice empowering cause no matter where I go when I adapt my practice to the bioregion, I will always be in sync with the magic there and not really fear of appropriating anything since it's kind of connected to the source of nature. My main deity is the earth, if I have a pantheon it's the planets, I am really into astrology and I work with all different types of elements and natural spirits. Working with nature also grounds magic for me since most of my witch years I got used to doing just mostly things with energy now I have physical things to ground it in. ANYWAY with all this being said, now that you kind of understand where I am coming from, it's going to influence the information I am going to give you.

(Also with the deities thing, just in general do not try to connect with spirits until you have a good understanding of your own energy and how to protect yourself. It's ok if you are coming from a culture or family that has connections to a deity and you have protection within that culture but alone with no protection you can find yourself in trouble because there are a lot of predatory spirits- and spirits are definitely tricksters- that like to get to take advantage of inexperienced and unprotected people and will pretend to be deities but will suck energy from you. You just need to know some good shielding and warding and discernment but until then, avoid it. Plus you do not need deities at all, like it should be a mutually beneficial relationship. Devoting your energy towards an entity for the chance for more power or protection, if the deity even feels like it, cause apparently it's not even guaranteed, feels a bit like joining a gang to me that's not even for your full benefit.)

Also sorry, usually my responses to these questions are fucking long, but the thing is, it's a loaded question. You are essentially asking me how to embark on a spiritual and magical journey that will transform your spirit and help you understand your energy and connection to the universe around you lol. I did answer this before, very extensively so I am going to link it here cause I think I did an ok job the first time. To summarize the main points in that post I will put them below, but I also will first add a new point I did not have in the original post:

Getting Started:

I. Tools

II. Basics

III. Exploring Yourself

IV. Exploring your Roots

V. Exploring Local Nature

VI. Resources

-------- New Point:

I. Tools This one is gonna be short cause, to get started you really just need 2 things. 1- Yourself!!! You are the source of magic! You literally got energy going through your veins and to get started with energy work that's all you gonna need. And 2- a magic journal. Yes you can call it a ~Book of Shadows~ but if you start getting anxiety like you gotta make it look fancy or some shit then don't. Especially when you are starting out you just need a book, or, actually not even a book, but take a second right now to right-click on your desktop and make a ~Folder of Shadows~ where you can save pictures, take notes and write future insights and spells and put it in there. We are in the year 2020 after all. I have a USB where I keep tons of notes, videos and pictures. I have a section of 'magic' on my iphone where I put notes for ideas or rituals when I am on the go. I have magic journals I take with me if I am going into the woods to channel ideas or to write down rituals if I am having a gathering and want to have notes. Its also ok to have more than 1 magic journal. This is a great opportunity to get that cool looking journal you wanted (or actually fill an empty journal you never had the courage to write in cause it's too nice looking) with random notes for magic. Having a book of shadows/computer folder of shadows/phone notes of shadows etc. is going to be helpful for keeping track of stuff while you build your own path.

---

Honestly one of these days I am going to make a long ass Witchcraft 101-103 and 201-203 post with the 101 focusing on getting started and figuring your magic out and the 201 more on learning about specific subjects like herbology, astrological transits, tools and crafts and how it can expand on your craft. (Along with actual books and resources cause 201 is DEFINITELY when you actually have to start reading, researching and getting into books, experiments and resources, and not only from subjective stuff but a few things that has some roots in science as well like plants and chemistry).

If you have any additional questions, feel free to ask and I can elaborate.

Have a good time explorin! <3

#long post #blog beginner #getting started #witchcraft

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safflowerseason · 4 years

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You reblogging Gilmore Girls inspired me to go back and watch and now I'm back in my Jess/Rory feels. Ngl, the way they ended up kind of reminds me of how I felt about Dan and Amy's ending in Veep, and the lack of any real sort of closure or resolution to their storyline, even with the entire revival. I'm interested to know your thoughts on the way their story was handled/wrapped up. (Plus side -- my love for Emily Gilmore was revived again, what an icon).

Hi Anon - thanks so much for writing in. I love hearing from other Veep fans who enjoy the same shows I do ☺️ Your ask caused a mini-storm of Rory/Jess reblogs on my end too, lol. And yes, Emily Gilmore is a fucking icon. A tour de force performance.

What’s interesting about Gilmore Girls for me is that while I do love it a lot and enjoy talking about it and occasionally get in my feels about it, it’s not a show of my heart for me the way Veep and The West Wing are. I probably would not donate money to a political cause in order to watch a GG reunion special, lol. So while I love Rory/Jess very much, I don’t feel psychically wounded by their storyline the way I feel about how Dan and Amy’s storyline was treated.

For me, Rory and Jess’s final meeting in S6 works as both closure and a form of resolution. It’s a little ambiguous, but there’s pretty definite takeaways: Rory realizes she loves Logan (bleh), they acknowledge their connection anyway, and even though Jess is disappointed, he’s also a real adult about the whole thing. He’s obviously not going to cut Rory out of his life or anything drastic and immature like that.

The revival, in contrast, tosses a firm resolution out the window, but this seem to be ASP’s preferred modus operandi where Rory’s relationships are concerned. It makes clear that that in the last ten years they’ve developed a deep and enduring friendship and that he’s still carrying a torch for her. Is that closure? I think it’s closure in the sense that we’re given all (or nearly all) the facts about where they stand with one another and their relationship is treated very significantly by the show (in other words, there’s no Mandelian gaslighting). We don’t know what’s going to happen with Rory and Jess, but we know their relationship matters, and that they are a major part of one another’s lives.

In some ways, I think that the “lack of closure” you’re referring to is really just ASP letting Rory and Jess’s profound connection endure in a very realistic way. Two people can have a soul-deep relationship, can even have confused and repressed romantic feelings about one another, and it doesn’t always mean they have to be a) romantically involved or b) fully cut out of one another’s lives. (Okay, this turned into a real essay, so below the cut are my angsty feelings about teenage Rory/Jess, haha).

I tend to get most in my feelings about teenage Rory and Jess, though, because that’s when their dysfunction is on display, and as y’all know, I love me a star-crossed dysfunctional couple who can’t quit each other. And also mostly because the show totally nails the adolescent yearning of their relationship, the almost-grown-up-but-not-quite desire that’s powering their connection. They just want each other so much. And I love the fated sense of doom hanging over their attraction in S2, as they edge around each other. It’s done really lightly and aching, and so pure and bittersweet, you just know this is all going to blow up in everyone’s faces somehow, that both Jess and Rory are going to self-sabotage. (Yes, of course, Jess is objectively more dysfunctional and the dissolution of their relationship is absolutely his fault—he’s barely staying in school, he’s a complete emotional wreck, he strings Rory along, he should not be anyone’s boyfriend. But Rory also has emotional issues that exacerbate things between them.)

I do have a lot of complicated feelings about how Jess is written in S2 and S3. I think Jess is a great character and they got better at writing him overtime, but at first he’s stuck in this kind of cartoonish over-the-top rebellious teen mode, talking like he’s a greaser member of a street gang in the 1950’s, and I think Milo Ventimiglia delivers a lot of those lines way too heavy-handed in the beginning. Whenever he baits Dean in S2, I always cringe a little, partly because everyone is acting so embarrassingly, and partly because, whatever ASP might be wishing, it’s not actually 1952 and no one talks like that. Ventimiglia shines a lot more in his quieter moments with Luke and Rory.

But I also feel that the way the breakdown of their relationship was handled was very…hamfisted. We barely get any Jess and Rory just being Jess and Rory before their relationship starts dissolving before our very eyes. There are some super cute moments sprinkled throughout S3, but they’re all overshadowed by Dean basically muscling in Rory and Jess’s first date or Jess ruining his meeting with Emily or Jess flaking on Rory…so the poignant bittersweet sense from S2 just becomes this impending sense of dread in S3 as we wait for Jess to do something so truly horrible he becomes unsympathetic to the audience. I actually don’t rewatch most of S3 for this reason, but at least it makes his redemption feel earned. I applaud the show for actually bringing Jess back in S4 when his life is still 90% a mess. He’s taken a few baby steps, but it’s realistic about how hard and messy it is to really change your life. Without those messy S4 appearances, his obvious growth in S6 wouldn’t feel nearly so powerful.

Obviously Rory loses her virginity to Dean and has an affair with him blah blah, but I think her relationship with Jess really represents her loss of innocence as a child. He’s the first person she actively “loses” after her dad. Christopher’s absence is built into Rory—it’s a part of her identity. But Rory loves Jess and loses him even as the purity of their emotional connection is increasingly emphasized over the rest of the series. That loss is foundational for the rest of her relationships—it’s a huge part of why she relapses with Dean and why she finds Logan so appealing, and it’s a huge part of why Rory keeps Jess firmly in the friend box for the rest of the series, even as they connect and reconnect and as Jess grows enough to realize that no dramatic pronouncements of love are going to win Rory over.

I don’t know. That scene when they’re kissing by the phone box and everything is new and perfect and tender and untouched between them and they’re both just like wow and you just know it can’t stay that way forever. It’s so perfect. It’s the perfect encapsulation of what it’s like to be seventeen and in your first real relationship (and then Rory runs off to apologize to Dean…ugh. Boundaries, Rory!) (also, I do not count Dean as her first real relationship. They're just playacting. Rory only dates Dean because he’s a magazine’s idea of a perfect high school boyfriend. She has nothing in common with him. They spend the entire time fighting about Harvard. Dean sucks.)

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #jess mariano #rory x jess

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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since the first step in achieving your goals is to state them aloud, here's a list of aftg fics/ au s that i'd like to write some day

- pre-canon fic from aaron's perspective spanning the twins' first meeting till they're drafted by the foxes and graduate high school. i'm increasingly enamored with aaron as a character as well as with an outside perspective of andrew's actions and i think it would be very interesting to look at the foundation on which their fraught relationship is built and first developed

- even more pre-canon fic. andrew's early life in foster care. yes, we all know about the most... gruesome things that were done to him, but i believe that there is plenty more that has affected and shaped him, especially in relation to my interpretation of andrew as an autistic poc. this would not be a happy fic.

- anastasia au. neil as anya, andrew as dimitri. possibly a plot amalgamation from both the animated movie and the stage show, with changes as i see fit. (no, neil is not the prince of russia). what i find most compelling about this au is the story of neil and andrew as childhood friends and then the angst of having andrew, as an adult, teaching an amnesiac neil how to act like a noble while being convinced that neil is an imposter. good shit

- art school/dance club au. the foxes attend the palmetto school of art at prestigious edgar allen university. they're considered the school's charity cases, and they are NOT friends. andrew is a studio arts major with a concentration in sculpture who works in the campus coffee shop in the mornings and frequents night clubs that employ pretty boys in the evenings. neil is attending college completely on his father's dime, PROVIDED he study what his father wants, despite his desire to study dance and music. going crazy without an outlet, neil takes a secret job as a go-go dancer. look. this may slightly possibly be a result of me having planned to party hardy this summer, then having my plans ruined by the virus :c

- 1950s High School au. the 1950s aesthetics fucking rock even though the 1950s fucking sucked. kinda wanna tackle both. plus, andrew already has that james dean bad boy fast car appeal

- an exploration of mary and nathan's relationship and history. i get that neil's parents are both super taboo and both really really awful people, but i have questions and i want to answer them

- neil never returns from baltimore. in order to keep his deals, permanently, andrew kills riko and tetsugi, and gets over 20 years in prison. when he gets out, he just wants to be alone, but it seems there's a ghost haunting him. this was conceived for MAXIMUM angst, no getting around it. i got the idea from a badacts fic and it has haunted me ever since

- post-canon sexuality exploration fic. i have a real passion for quality sex education and healthy experimentation, and neil very clearly didn't get the chance for either. yet at the end of the books he finds himself in a very intense sexual relationship. i just really want to give him the opportunity to find out how desire works for him and what he likes, on his own terms. i read a lot of fics where neil's desires seem to be completely dependent on andrew's initiaton, and while i do believe that andrew is the only person neil is attracted to and will ever be attracted to, i also want to explore how his sexuality manifests on its own. the vibe i'm going for is, uh, HornySweet (tm), but also with a lot of genuine eductional material. i want this is to be something that offers real information to its readers that may have been inaccessible for a lot of people, on topics like like sexual hygiene, maturbation, and sex toys in a non-fetishy way. this will be very very E rated, but like,, in a very earnest and goofy way because sex and sexuality is neat and cool but it's also not all serious perfect fucking. it's just,, a topic that deserves to be DISCUSSED

- mobster au. andrew, having never met aaron, takes a job for the moriyamas to track down a runaway asset. Neil. upon completion, they make andrew the butcher's apprentice, and pull neil back into the fold as a commodity rather than a person. lots of violence, lots of shady underground dealings, lots of plotting, lots of secrets.

i'm gonna put some more under the cut, ones that i don't feel as strong a drive towards right now or that i haven't thought as much about. if you (yes, YOU) like any of these, or are interested in any of these, or wanna hear more about any of these, or are even inspired to write something yourself by any of these please, PLEASE, say something in the notes, or send me a message, or an ask or anything. ANYTHING. i am stuck inside, all the time, and i am so, so lonely. i answer from hoob-gooblin

- princess bride au. come ON. princess bride is one of the most romantic AND most snarky movies of all time, and andreil literally invented love and devotion sooooooo it's a perfect match. "yes or no" vs "as you wish" kings of consent and communication and unconventional love declarations. also,, he may not be how I imagine andrew, but a young cary elwes in dramatic black pirate getup is DEFINITELY a valid andrew

- hozier au. sometimes,, i listen to an album, and imagine a fic that encompases the whole thing. nothing speaks louder to me than hozier's discography. (also, yes, i am gay). maybe a little bit inside llewyn davis. neil wanders through a small town and takes up some small jobs, but sings his heart out through twisted metaphors once a week in a hole in the wall bar staffed by a very short, dead eyed veteran

- prince and the pauper au. on a stealth recon mission in enemy territory, andrew encounters a local lord who happens to have his face. in a moment of desperation to save himself from arrest, andrew knocks the lord out and assumes his identity. he returns to the castle just in time for prince moriyama to arrive with a shifty-eyed, red-headed handservant in tow. lord aaron of columbia, meanwhile, wakes up on a ship manned by crown traitor and fugitive kevin day, calling him by a name he's never heard before, and then he's in the hands of the guerilla rebel forces that have been attacking the kingdom. i watched barbie princess and the pauper as a child and that movie fucking slaps

- little mermaid/beauty and the beast/bride of the rose beast/ladyhawke au. in a last ditch attempt to escape his father, neil trades his voice and his tail for legs and washes ashore on a small kingdom with horrible secrets. because he cannot speak, read or write, prince aaron employs neil to serve the monster in the catacombs, the prince's twin brother. the twins are under a curse that turns them into terrifying monsters, andrew by day and aaron by night. aaron's affliction is a secret, as is andrew's humanity. this is such a hodgepodge idea lol. did neil also have to be a mermaid for this to work? no. is he? hell yeah

- new york private school/twin swap au. aaron wins a scholarship to a prestigious school that will guarantee him a future, but then he relapses. convinced he just needs a little more time to get clean, he makes a deal with his volatile new brother, andrew, to stand in for him at the school just until he can his shit together. neil and ichirou moriyama have been raised together their entire lives, always under the knowledge that ichirou will inherit the family empire with nathaniel as his right hand. they hate the idea, but they have no way to escape, and now neil is being harassed by ichirou's bitchass estranged brother at their stupid, fancy private school. LISTEN, we as a fandom do NOT take enough advantage of the twin swap possibilities presented to us. pathetic

- post-canon fic where ichirou, realizing that the life of a mob boss is a lonely one, decides that he needs... a friend. however, because of the nature of his work, he can't just make friends with anyone, so he decides to make friends with neil. without consulting neil first. cue a lot of very weird, very awkward coffee dates where neil is convinced he's about to be disposed of, and ichirou just wants to know about his cats. the thing i like about ichirou is he’s a complete blank slate. i can make him a good guy, a bad guy, an ally, the Big Bad

- Kill Bill au. mary survives a bullet to the head and wakes up from a coma over a year later. with nothing left to lose, she sets out to single-handedly dismantle the wesninski circle. good thing she used to be its top assassin

- single dad andrew au. except look, look, stay with me here, okay, aaron is his son, and he's adopted nicky and kevin. LISTEN. STAY WITH ME. JUST THINK ABOUT IT. tbh the idea comes from my interpretation of the andrew/neil/kevin dynamic as distincly parental, then extending that interpretation to andrew's protection over the rest of his family.

- fashion au. andrew is a fashion designer and photographer who frequently works with allison reynolds. one day she brings around a short, twitchy assistant who looks like she just plucked him out of an alley. somehow, he becomes andrew's muse. i watch a lot of fashion competition shows

- ghibli. either howl's moving castle (andrew as sophie, neil as howl) or spirited away (?). maybe both idk

- legally blonde au. legally blonde is so good guys

#aftg #fic #fic ideas #aftg fic #the foxes #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil

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happymetalgirl · 3 years

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Rating Christmas Songs

Yep, it’s that time of year we get inundated wherever we go with mostly shitty Christmas music, usually the same stuff as the years before and the many years before. There are some songs among the barren crop of overplayed tunes that I think are pretty enjoyable, but for the most part I feel pretty confident that most of us are just putting up with the vast majority of the holiday playlist (I mean no one is dying to play any of these songs any other time of year, so they can’t be that great), so it’s time to set the record straight.

Here’s a rating of a few of the season’s musical staples and some brief reasons behind them. I’m sure I’m missing a few classics, but do feel free to bring them up and I will offer my thoughts on them. Granted these songs all have dozens, of not hundreds or thousands of versions, so I’m kind of going by an average of what I generally hear, not the dubstep remix version or even my favorite version necessarily.

“Jingle Bells”

The classic, easy to sing, easy to play on whatever instrument, upbeat childhood Christmas song. It’s hard to mess this one up, and I’m just glad it’s not trying to get all overly serious about Christmas as many of the songs further down this list do. But I mean, it’s fucking “Jingle Bells”, who actually gives a shit about this plinky-ass song.

5/10

“O Holy Night”

This one’s cool the first several years you hear it because it sounds pretty grand and epic, but it does wear off after awhile. Still, I’d rather hear this song than most, and I’ve yet to hear it truly butchered. So cheers to that!

7/10

“Jingle Bell Rock”

The failed swaggering “update” or cousin of the classic children’s Christmas song, it’s one of those songs that sounds like a bunch of upper class white folks sipping wine and putting on the usual façade of in-person Facebook-style humble bragging and life-highlighting about their year for the family they’ve not flexed on all year or since Thanksgiving. The song though is so drab and seemingly intentional sucked of lol the fun the kid’s song had, and in its place is just overly drolly Sinatra-imitation with no spirit at all. It’s the definition of background music, and it’s for the worst kind of background. Dancing to it sure as hell sucks. If you’re hearing this song, you’re probably not having as much fun as you’re supposed to be for a song that’s supposedly more “rock”.

2/10

"O Tanenbaum"

While his semi-jazzed-up approach that characterizes the rest of the soundtrack still seeps into this song, I’ve always loved the more stripped back piano-centric approach that Vince Guaraldi takes with this song on the classic A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. The simple and sweet lullaby-esque melody at the core of the song really works well with the instrumentally minimal approach (which I do hear most often) and it evokes a sense of very sweet nostalgia (for me at least), and I can’t not like it.

9/10

“Angels We Have Heard on High”

You know I’ve heard some pretty alright versions of this song when it’s pushed toward its more energetic side. That over the top run on “glOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoria” tends to be the make-or-make moment of the song, and when a singer or choir commits to it and goes all out, it can sound pretty rad; I’m sure some power metal band somewhere out there has put a decent spin on it. The rigid, traditional delivery I hear more often, though, sadly sounds more often like it’s had the life sucked out of it.

7/10

“Silent Night”

Probably my favorite of the soft Christmas songs, just soulful melodies abound here and written in a way that hasn’t encouraged too many stupid renditions.

9/10

“Santa Baby”

This song is just fuckin’ weird, and I get the place of romance it’s coming from lyrically: finally dropping the charade of Santa Claus and being romantic with the speaker’s husband after putting on the act for the children. It’s cute and endearing, but god is it always so weirdly sung, in a hyperseductive baby voice, not subtle at all, and kind of not fitting with the kind of sweet endearing romanctic tone you would think it’d be carrying if you just read the lyrics. There are definitely worse Christmas/holiday romance songs, and I can definitely imagine this song being performed more sweetly than it usually is.

6/10

“Hark! the Herald Angels Sing!”

This. Song. Is. A. Banger. Glorious and triumphant as shit! It sounds good slow and fast, but definitely best when it’s played bold and loud, as opposed to some contrived-ass attempt at a ballad. This song feels like finishing a marathon. I’d pay to hear Khemmis do this fuckin’ song.

10/10

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”

Sinatra’s version of the song is probably the most famous at this point, and as a consequence, the very title I think tends to invoke his signature smooth delivery on its own. I used to hate this one, but these days I find its naturally soothing character much more welcoming, god, especially this year. I can see why some find it to droll and sloggy, but I think it’s a nice wind-down tune.

7/10

“Last Christmas”

You know, the original synth-pop version by Wham! isn’t too bad on its own; George Michael’s delivery is pretty heartfelt and I can see why it’s become such modern Christmas staple. However, in the context of Christmas background music, that repetitive chorus refrain that seems to be the only lyric anyone knows in the song, gets really grating when it’s the only thing that sticks out, the more scaled-back delivery of the verses aiding their being buried in the chatter with your eggnog-sipping relatives. Furthermore, I’ve yet to hear a cover of the song less dry than sandpaper. Positive points to the original only.

6/10

“Away in a Manger”

This song certainly gets points for its strong narrative consistency, but aside from the “the stars in the sky” line, the melody is really really lame, and infantile in a bad way, and I have yet to hear a version that doesn’t sound like it was done by or similar to an apathetic children’s choir. It’s that quintessential song that every church kindergarten choir gets forced to sing because it’s nice and slow and narrow-range that all the kids look absolutely braindead singing. Not that it’s ever the kids’ fault or anything, it’s just a boring-ass song whose weak-ass strategy hinges on a bunch of 5-year-olds getting into something they clearly don’t give a shit about.

4/10

“The Little Drummer Boy”

You know, I could envision a slow-building post-rock-esque version of this song being pretty cool, but to date, all I have heard is stiff corny solo vocal delivery a la Angela from The Office and haphazard attempts at injecting tons of energy into the song that don’t really fix the kooky melody at the core of it. I swear you can always hear whoever is singing it getting red in the face from the needless intensity.

3/10

"Christmas Time Is Here"

Another solid cut from the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas, its rather simple instrumental foundation serves as a pretty solid introductory piece for the season; it feels so much like welcoming in the winter. And then of course the jazz embellishments on the instrumental version are some of the best in the Christmas genre, though listening to the soundtrack these days makes me wonder what it would be like if a more bombastic and dynamic jazz band took these songs on a more wild ride. I would love to hear that.

8/10

“Joy to the World”

It’s a little bit cheesy, but I kinda appreciate how ridiculously celebratory this tune is. It’s another one that I think would be interesting to hear Khemmis do a quick cover of, despite the religious theme that doesn’t really fit into their style. At the very least, it always sounds fun or, indeed, joyous.

7/10

“We Three Kings”

I’m not convinced anyone cares about this song.

5/10

“The First Noel”

This is another one of those songs whose runny melody tends to lead to it being delivered so often way too seriously, never really all too fun or worthy of the seriousness either.

3/10

“O Come, O Come Emanuel”

This is another one of those songs that, on the surface, seems more genuine with its minor key and often stoic delivery, and that definitely makes it better than the vast majority of Christmas songs, but the melody and lyrics are a bit oddly mismatched, and the melody that serves as the key appeal in the song does wear thin as the years go on. Nevertheless, I always do seem to find a cool new version ever year or two.

7/10

“Do You Hear What I Hear?”

Goddamn this is such a goofy-ass song. Who the hell made this? I cannot take it seriously. One point for all the kids for the apt “do you smell what I smell?”

1/10

“Mary Did You Know?”

Again, who wrote these lyrics? Like, in the story Mary made up to explain her out-of-wedlock pregnancy, that was kind of the main thing, that this kid would do some crazy shit. I can’t take this song seriously either, especially when it gets the goofy overly operatic treatment.

3/10

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town”

It’s another one of those songs that literally just says what Santa Claus does. Musically it’s catchy-ish, but I mean it’s about Santa Claus, and it’s so often sung in that overly serious, toned down Motown style that no kid likes. I never liked hearing it then, and I don’t now.

3/10

“12 Days of Christmas”

Structurally iconic, this song really doesn’t offer anything beyond that; have you ever tried listening to someone doing the whole thing? It gets old really fast, and the fact that the “halfway” point in the song, the six geese a-laying, isn’t actually the halfway point, because the verses get longer and longer... fuck! The only thing this song is good for is for structuring workouts around, nothing regarding listening to the song. It gets one point for its utility.

1/10

“It Came upon a Midnight Clear”

We really are in a stretch of trash Christmas songs right now. I don’t think this is anyone’s favorite Christmas song. It’s so lethargic and sleep-inducing, I’m falling asleep just thinking about it.

3/10

“We Wish You a Merry Christmas”

Eh, it’s kinda not a really important song. At least it wakes you up, but apart from throwing some energy into the Christmas playlist that many are often desperate for, it’s just a cheery addition of holiday-themed white noise.

4/10

“What Child Is This?”

Finally some good fucking food. I’ve heard some baller versions of this captivatingly grand song, whose accidentals and minor key really make it one of the more interesting listens during the holiday season. I would dig an Opeth cover or a Pallbearer cover, or... a Khemmis cover.

8/10

“Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”

This is just one of those standard, old-timey, inoffensive season-themers. It’s alright, I’ve never heard any version of it that really blows my mind.

5/10

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”

This one is almost indistinguishable from, but significantly less annoying than, “Jingle Bell Rock” and is similarly stiff in a way that it’s clearly not meant to be.

3/10

“White Christmas”

This might take the cake for the sleepiest Christmas song out there. It is SLOW, like Bell Witch should ironically do a 20-minute-long cover of it just to see how it goes.

4/10

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

The shopping mall theme song. It’s always given that Sinatra treatment and it only barely fits well enough into that style.

4/10

“Feliz Navidad”

This one always feels like it needs to be sung with a big, cheerful group to capture the liveliness that its main appeal is based in, which puts it at a distinct disadvantage this year. Still, it��s always a fun, sometimes even bouncy song to play during the holiday season.

7/10

“Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer”

I do actually welcome the absurd narrative that has somehow made itself one of the season’s ironic staples, and its slightly dark humor makes for a nice change of pace in the playlist with its upbeat, campy humor.

6/10

“Deck the Halls”

Fa la la la la, la la la no.

Annoying as fuck: 2/10

“Frosty the Snowman”

God, this song should be way more cheery and kid-friendly than it is. I mean, I’m sure kids don’t mind it, but it’s just yet ANOTHER one of those songs that can’t escape its old-timey suit-and-tie incarnation for the liveliness it desperately needs.

4/10

“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”

One of the more compositionally clunky of the well-known minor-key Christmas songs, this one unfortunately tends to show why minor-key songs are generally a weird fit for theme. I have heard a good few modern renditions though that make the song worth keeping around.

6/10

“Jingle in the Jungle”

This one’s for the real ones out there. “Jingle in the Jungle” is not a real Christmas song per se, but it pushes the boundaries; it’s courageous. The song comes from the television series, Bob’s Burgers, in a stressful Christmas-themed episode where the musically adventurous son of the titular character, Gene, burns out his dad’s cell phone battery waiting on hold for a radio station to request this song. The phone dies and he does not get the chance to request the song, but a Christmas miracle occurs, and the station decides to play the obscure, bongo-laden song anyway, and it sure is a fun minute-long diddy.

8/10

“Wonderful Christmastime”

Paul McCartney’s peppy Christmas tune that only kinda accomplishes its light-hearted goal is simply one of many throwaway inoffensive modern Christmas songs that seems to have only gained cultural traction due to it being repetitive and simplistic af, and being made by a Beatle.

5/10

“Happy Xmas (War Is Over)”

Well it would only make sense to have the battle of the Beatles here with John Lennon’s standout Christmas track, a far more soulful, bombastic, and triumphant song that echoed his idealistic spirit in a way that makes this song not all too different from his standout solo works and compositions with The Beatles. It’s a warm, hopeful song that draws from a grounding in the harshness of reality rather than some escapist fantasies about Santa or religion. Despite the acknowledgement of the ills of the world, Lennon’s vision of Christmas and his wish for the world is a day of recognition of love and unity, which is purer than 99% of the dogmatic or materialistic Christmas music above, and definitely the song right below this one.

9/10

“The Christmas Shoes”

Alright, rubbing the hands together, we’re coming to the end here, with this fucking song. It’s not the most famous Christmas song, thank God, but when I heard it for the first time, I was immediately repelled by the saccharine melody, uncannily blank-faced delivery, and sappy lyrics, but it’s one of those special songs that gradually reveals several layers of shit the more you fixate on it. For the uninitiated, the song came out in the year 2000, from the Christian band NewSong; it’s an aggressively sentimental holiday ballad with a bit of pop country vocal flair that only adds to the sinister hokey-ness of the lyrics. And that really is the ugliest facet of this song; as sickeningly cheesy as the music is, the simple lyrics here are more morbid and more disgusting than the grossest brutal death metal songs. The song is a simple narrative about a poor boy buying his sick mom some nice shoes on Christmas Eve so she can look nice for Jesus when she dies, tonight, on Christmas Eve. Yeah, it’s fucking sickening. The song is narrated from the perspective of a man in the store when the boy is buying the shoes and the narrator offers to buy the shoes for him, and he muses vaguely and confusingly on his generosity and Jesus being the “true” meaning of Christmas. Yes, there are so many questions being begged by this narrative. Why would Jesus give a shit about the shoes? Why is getting shoes this divine Christmas gesture? How do these shoes even come close to offsetting the pain and suffering and loss this family is suffering. This is like the opposite of John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas” in that it’s offering a pathetic consolation for the cruelty of a world where a loving God apparently offers only a stranger’s mild and momentary generous gesture for a poor family in the thralls of a mother’s illness. It’s grounded in the same reality that John Lennon presents, but it whitewashes it and minimizes the suffering in a manipulative way to shoehorn a rather cliche reminder to adhere to religious dogma and to keep your mind pure and holy and only on Jesus. A plain-faced telling of the narrative on its own makes it seem kind of benign, but the weirdly sappy tone of it all does a pretty poor job of hiding how contrived the emotion is and how unnatural it all is. Every facet of the lyrics is crafted to maximize the superficial primal tug at the heartstrings; it’s supposed to feel extremely tender and sweet, and aside from being completely transparently manufactured, the response it delivers to the story it sets up is creepily unhuman, the opposite of a natural response to the details of what the song presents, and its misplaced sense of justice makes the song a pretty apt representation of so much wrong with evangelicals’ attitudes surrounding Christmas.

0/10

“All I Want for Christmas Is You”

by Mariah Carrey. Ending on a positive note. Probably the best and most classic modern Christmas song to come out in my lifetime, it’s a sweet, romantic, upbeat love tune that really captures the best aspects of the holiday season. Never mind the relatives and their dumb political views and drama or the religious nonsense that people get so disingenuously up in arms about, or the consumerism. Christmas at its best is a time to appreciate love, and this song gets it.

9/10

And that is it, for me, I obviously know I will never be able to rate every Christmas/holiday song ever.

I had some time, so I had a little fun and charted the 38 semi-serious ratings of Christmas songs here, which I will also be doing with the 200-something metal albums I’ve been reviewing and now rating at the end of the year. Should be interesting. Now 38 isn’t a particularly huge sample of the huge swath of Christmas songs, nor was it random (I just listed a bunch of songs I was familiar with). It didn’t produce the normal curve I somewhat expect for the larger sample of metal albums later at the end of the year; rather, it shows a two-peak pattern, which could be due to the sample size, or maybe it just illustrates a somewhat unsurprising polarized sample of opinions on Christmas songs. The songs that I remember that are (mostly) pretty common, I either really like or really don’t like, most of the songs are not in the middle. These were songs I have heard for a long time and remembered pretty vividly, so I’ve developed some relatively strong opinions on them. Anyway, look at this graaaaaaphh.

#Christmas #Christmas songs #Christmas music #Holiday songs #holiday music

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thisgirlhastales · 5 years

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“Wayward Son” — Is There Peace When You Are Done?

What we have here is an essay of sorts: a loosely organized mishmash of thoughts and opinions. Disclaimer that this is highly subjective, as it is based on my own experiences and expectations going into this novel :)

And, naturally, many Wayward Son spoilers below the cut! If you haven’t read it yet and are planning to do so, please do not proceed further. If you’ve already read it or don’t care about spoilers, c’mon in! Ain’t nobody here but me!

First Thing: I thought the plot was cool — I loved seeing the characters again, loved seeing the different magical culture within the United States as compared to the UK; all the geographical variety and how that impacted magical abilities and politics, the creatures and the nature of magic as it applied to people who aren’t mages, the syntax, and Shepard. All of that was fascinating. It felt organic and real, even though our main dude, Shepard, did drop a few exposition bombs. I loved it all.

The magical creatures touch on something that I think all the main characters learn and re-learn (and may be symbolic of their issues as a whole): there is no one way to do or be magic. The word magician can apply to any creature who is or practices magic. The UK’s mages have an expansive but selective history. They do not acknowledge people like Lamb (see Nicodemus), even though they are technically part of their world. I wonder if the UK vampires have something like what the Las Vegas vampires do — i.e. ways to feed without killing, ways of living without standing out so much, a hierarchal structure, their own historical narrative, etc.

Agatha coming into her own was fabulous, driving the plot with the vampires on her end; she wasn’t a character I enjoyed in the last book too much (I thought she was very real, even practical, she just didn’t appeal to me as a person), but in this? Loved her. And she figured out her own way to be, though there’s still a ways to go for her, I think …

There is no one way to be anything, and that’s a lesson everyone in this book needs to learn (and talk about with each other, please, please, please).

Second Thing: Dealing with Trauma — I do think this was what resonated most with me, as someone who likes it when things are not perfectly hunky-dory after severely traumatic events.

Simon is Not Dealing. He stopped going to his psychologist. He thinks about the Mage, but doesn’t fully process the impact of having killed him. He’s in mourning over his magic and the Mage and all of it, but he’s choosing to not digest it fully — every time he was happy on this road trip, I, like Baz, was thrilled, but I also knew that it was fleeting because he hadn’t really dealt with anything. The underlying cause of his depression and listlessness wasn’t being addressed. His bursts of anger, his heartbreak, his inability to let go of the wings … He goes back and forth a lot, as well, tormenting himself.

Baz is Not Dealing. Baz was suicidal in Carry On. Baz barely knows anything about vampires. He lives in fear of being a monster, and of being executed as one regardless of his actions. As much as I detest Lamb, he had knowledge: How to feed without killing your prey. How to live amongst people and blend in better. He looked physically healthier. Baz’s grey complexion is actually a sign that he is starving more often than not. Remember how powerful he is now, and imagine how powerful he could be if he took better care of himself. And how much more comfortable in his own skin he’d be, which would help with so many of his bitter self-recriminations.

Penny is Not Dealing. Wow, that break-up with Micah was rough. She has a few more moments of self-realization than Simon and Baz do, but she’s also completely caught up in her own magical world, culture, and plans for the future; she has trouble reconciling what Shepard tells her, and is still processing (accepting? Healing?) from not only that breakup, but everything else that has ever happened to her and Simon. Penny copes better, but still not necessarily well. Her can-do, will-do attitude is a huge boon, but when it fails? Yikes. I rather feel like she had overly-rationalized (maybe even over-simplified) every trauma she went through with Simon, and … the world isn’t rational or simple at the best of times. I really, really hope she can come to terms with that (and that we get to see it).

Simon and Baz Together Are Not Dealing. It goes without saying that these two NEED to talk. But their separate issues are a huge roadblock — I feel like the chances of misunderstandings occurring are high. Each is convinced that they are bad for the other. Baz is slightly better about it, but he’s so afraid of the consequences of broaching the subject, he simply won’t. And the thing is? His instincts aren’t wrong. Simon does want to break up with him. It’s based on the whole you deserve better than me assumption, but Baz is actually sensing correctly that Simon is on the verge of leaving him. They need to deal with their own, separate traumas, and they can do that together or apart, but they need to start healing in some capacity. I fully believe that they can be together, even with a break, but that break needs to come with communication? Point being, we all go through healthy and unhealthy periods, as individuals, as part of a family, as part of a couple. They are right smack dab in the middle of a rough, not-so-healthy part — however they cope with it, (TALKING AND LISTENING ARE MUSTS), we at least know that they love each other. Love alone is not enough, but it is a powerful, wonderful force in their corner.

The expansion on magic implies legion of ways in which to exist, and such is the case for coping with pain, sadness, regret, and all the other fun aspects of being humans who experience trauma in innumerable ways. Sometimes we choose things that are unhealthy as a stopgap, because we’re not ready for the work and pain that is healing. Y’all, healing sometimes is on par with the issues that made it necessary — in simpler terms, it can really, really suck at the start. Again, some of you may come from different perspectives, but this struck a chord with me.

I definitely went in with the expectation that all the issues would be laid out, and then addressed … We got the first half in spades … Did not get the second, nope.

Third Thing: The structure of this book implied right from the start that things may be unresolved, but, er, it was still a bit hard to deal with — having an epilogue at the beginning and a prologue at the end implies to me that this second book is a launch point. The prologue at the end is the start for the next (hopefully larger) narrative. That makes Wayward Son something like a sprawling behind-the-scenes look into these characters before we launch into their following, more detailed story.

But I didn’t feel too great about having been plunged so deeply into this ‘verse, only to not have a lifesaver tossed my way … Which is to say, it kept me breathless, and knowing that people survived allowed me a reprieve, but the core of this novel — the overall mental well-being of Simon, Baz, Penny, and Agatha — had me tight in its grip from the beginning and then just … kept right on squeezing at the end. Even tighter.

I don’t mind a plot-based cliff-hanger, but the fact that all the emotional and character arcs were left hanging as well? I felt like I got a decent resolution, or partial conclusion, on a few plot points, but next to no resolution for the emotional and/or psychological arcs. That I have a lot more trouble accepting. Particularly when I’ve spent an entire book with characters forced to live in each other’s space, in close quarters, and still not communicating. I wanted to rip out every beautiful thought Simon and Baz had about each other and throw it in the other’s face. Because they were gorgeous and wonderful, and for all that they are currently fractured and bleeding, they so clearly want what is best for each other. They are (mostly) selfless in their love (with a few selfish foibles, but they made sense to me).

I was also rather … not happy with the fact we got no mention of Lucy, of Davy, of them being Simon’s parents. I’m really, desperately hoping we get that in the next chapter of this series.

The positive thing I can take away from this point is that when we get to the next book (and I know there will be one — my copy literally has a number 2 on the spine, which heavily implies series to me), we will be firmly grounded in what is facing these characters both internally and externally.

The biggest issue that lies ahead is COMMUNICATION. I know (I hope like hell) this will be addressed in the next book, but I craved it so, so badly in this. Not just for Simon and Baz but PENNY. They are all sitting on shifting sand foundations now — their worlds have been completely overturned, over and over again in the past year or so, and they haven’t found firm footing yet. When Micah broke up with Penny, I very much thought that was the kick off for a road trip filled with introspection and epiphanies and finally, lots of talking about said introspections and epiphanies — I got half my wish. The latter half, I suppose, will have to wait until the next novel. I didn’t expect all the character/emotional beats to be acknowledged and resolved, but at least some of them, with room for others to be resolved in the next story, so we would have more (and more room) to explore in that novel.

As a result, Wayward Son, for the many things I loved about it, didn’t feel like a complete story for me. It doesn’t stand on its own quite as well as Carry On did. Maybe when the third book comes out, I will retroactively love it more, but for now I’m just sort of … floating along, waiting for that lifesaver. It did, honestly, feel a bit like half of a story. Half a good story, fantastic even, but still … Half.

In addition to these thoughts I’ve shared, here’s where I’m coming from, as a reader — we all come at these books from different places, different life experiences and wants and expectations.

One of my most formative reading experiences was Harry Potter. I read Harry Potter practically as it came out. I had to wait years between some of the books. By the time the last book arrived, the characters had matured about as much as I had. Because the middle books were so chunky and dense (and I loved them for it!), I was a little thrown off by how slim Deathly Hallows was in comparison, and that ultimately was reflected in my reading — it went by so quickly. While I loved it and sobbed all over the damn place, when I hit that epilogue … that’s the first time while reading that I did a full stop. All the pain and agony of that book, as quick as it had been, had been amazing, and it felt like it demanded some kind of … reflection and communication between the characters, and I thought after ten years of these books, we had a definite basis for an epilogue that could’ve added another third to this novel — maybe one that jumped through the years, showed us different characters at various stages of healing? Something involved and detailed to a degree.

Wayward Son had that rushed element to it … and I think part of that feeling was enhanced due to the lack of resolution to those character/emotional arcs — we were tumbling, running forward into a free fall and then were frozen right at that point before falling.

However, Wayward Son gives me more positive feelings than that epilogue in HP. Yes, it still feels incomplete, like half a story. But Wayward Son isn’t an end. Unlike Deathly Hallows, there is more to come, and that’s what I’m looking forward to most. It definitely has its flaws in my view, but I can reconcile them somewhat, as you’ve seen.

(There is also a whole thing involving the way these sorts of arcs would resolve in fanfiction versus the medium of a book intended for a broader audience, but that would be a whole other post, methinks. Let me know if you want me to discuss that, because I do have some thoughts on it, though they’re a little haphazard at the moment. Um. Assuming all this rambling isn’t wildly boring and/or awful for you.)

Final Thoughts: At the end of the day? I loved reading this book, even for all that I wanted to reach into the pages and knock the character’s heads together. I said, “Oh no!” out loud when I reached the end, but it was because I desperately wanted more right then and there. The fact that I want more means that, despite any flaws, I’m still on board for this universe and its characters — I still love all this magic, and this dragon boy and his vampire boyfriend :)

And now, 2000 plus words later, I am done, holy crap. If anyone actually made it to the bottom of this, thank you? Not too sure how coherent I was, but I hope some of this was of value to someone :) *many hugs*

Edit: Apparently I still had some things to say, so here is a sequel to this ramble — Simon and Baz Carrying On Like Wayward Sons.

#wayward son #wayward son spoilers #snowbaz #simon snow #rainbow rowell #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #rants and ramblings

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