#which coincidentally was my second worst grade

[crustysoapbubbles]

Chapter Two, Classes and Thoughts

Math class started off like any other math class. Going in, taking a seat, then turning in homework. But then, instead of getting out our notes, she ordered us to get out pencils. My eyes widened. I forgot that we had a test today! 

Sweat poured down my forehead as the teacher passed out the test papers. When she gave me mine, I looked at the first question and instantly gave up. We were learning pre-algebra, in my opinion, the worst next to geometry obviously. 

I racked my head for how to do the problem. I didn't remember going over ANY of this stuff! So I wrote down a random answer and continued onto the next question. It was the same, along with all of the others. Standing up, I walked over to my teachers desk and turned in my test. 

'Well, that's a nice F.' I thought to myself bitterly, sitting down. 

I looked over my class, and noticed that I was the first person to turn in my test. Lucky me. They all were looking down intensely, jotting things down on their papers. I seemed to be the only one who didn't know how to do the difficult problems. 

Around twenty minutes later, the bell rang me out of my tired state. I rubbed my tired face with the palm of my hand, picked up my stuff, and continued onto the next class, which was Spanish. I swear they purposely put the two most stress inducing classes together to make us mentally die.  

But luckily for me, Spanish went by fast. Mostly because I slept through it. All I really remember was the teacher talking about a test for next week on something I couldn't really put my finger on. 

Then was my second favorite, writing! One of my only talents. 

Sitting down at my desk, I got out my Chromebook and started up Google Classroom. Ms. Stormy was also our writing teacher, which I was deeply grateful for since she was also coincidentally my reading teacher. 

The first thing that came up was a adjective analysts. I got that done quickly, and when the rest had finished, we went to the next worksheet. Then the next, and so on. I was a little confused, since normally we write short fictional narratives or something. But no. I think school is just getting more and more uninteresting by the second. 

"What did you get on the test?" Someone asked from the desk across from me. 

I didn't know they were talking to me for a second until they said my name. 

"Beau?" 

I looked to the voice and grimaced. It was Raven. The smartest girl in the entire class. Every time I thought I was doing good, she would show off her grade, which was never below an A. 

I had to think a second before saying something. "Uh..I don't know..." I mumbled. 

She grinned. "You probably did good, it was SO easy. I mean, what does she think we are? Kinder gardeners?" She laughed. 

I forced a smile and nodded. 

Next was lunch, and I hated it. For one, I didn't like, or want, to eat. And second, I had to sit with Raven. We had an argument almost every day, in which ended with Raven gas lighting me. 

Sitting down, I took out my lunch and started to unpack. I took out a single carrot and started to nibble on it a little. Raven started to talk, but I couldn't hear her over the loud cafeteria. 

"BEAU!" Raven yelled. 

I blinked and looked up. 

"yeah?"

"Will you stop ignoring me? Its kinda offending." She said, looking me straight in the eyes. 

I mumbled and apology and looked to the side. I really wasn't in the mood for fighting again.

The rest of the day was a crappy blur of tiredness. The worst part? We had homework over the weekend. And when I say we, I mean me, because I fell asleep during Social Studies and didn't get the work done. 

Also, my mom was really late for pickup.

"How was your day?" My mom asked on my way home when she finally arrived. Apparently traffic had been really bad. 

"Fine." I grumbled, leaning my head on my window. 

She said some other things, but I wasn't really paying attention. Today had been pretty crappy, and I was just happy to get home. 

As we pulled into the driveway, my mom stopped, letting me to get out. I immediately rushed into the house and up the stairs to my getaway space. My beautiful room. It wasn't really anything special, a bed, desk, and gecko named Lizawa. 

I flopped onto my bed and let out a long sigh, letting my body sink into my comfortable bed. 

I grabbed a pillow and put my face into it. I had been really tired and uninterested lately, my therapist said it was due to my lack of sleep, having insomnia, and diagnosed depression. 

'Why can't I just be..happy?' I thought angrily. But I knew why. 

I've had very bad trust issues since all of my friendships ended up in a dumpster fire, my emotions being chucked across the room and stomped on every time I let them show. But I guess that's normal. I'm probably just over reacting. 

"I wish that I just had a damn friend that wouldn't hurt me..." I thought out loud.

"Ha, imagine. Couldn't be me."  

#gt #story #The Most Uncanny Friendship #Chapter Two #Chapters

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

it's been five years and i'm still not over how bad i fucked up in my selectividad latin exam

#no but like you don't understand #the other option was THE FUCKING MYTH OF ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE #MY FAVOURITE MYTH OF ALL TIME #and instead of that i chose a text about fucking hannibal crossing the alps because of the literature #keep in mind literature in latin exams is worth 1 POINT #and the translation IS FUCKING WORTH 5 POINTS #THE EXAM IS OUT OF 10 POINTS #also I GOT THE LITERATURE WRONG #i was so fucking stupid oh my god #i fear that exam will haunt me for the rest of my days #also it was my worst grade on selectividad #a 5.25 #which is ironic cause i ended up studying latin and history #which coincidentally was my second worst grade #en fin

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships 

wc: 4.2k 

i.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.  

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney  @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer  @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri  @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast  @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy  @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon  @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation  @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns​ @langdonskillerqueen​ @aradevil​ @anemia-doll​ @muralskins​ @funtomimagines​ @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes​ @our-mrlangdon​ @lotsofhunny​ @sevenwonderwitch​ @horrorstreet​ @kpopmademedo-it​ @naughtygranger​ @codyshands​ @krazycags01​ @skullag​

#michael langdon #is it wrong #michael langdon x reader #mine #michael langdon fic #ahs #american horror story #apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #cody fern #x reader #ahs x reader

[haeddoti]

This is my first blog-post and it is about some of the books I read between year 7 and 11 in my German high school. These books aren’t in a particular order, I just wrote all of them down and took some notes to guide me along. I’ll give a brief summary and then my thoughts about the books.

Without further due, let’s get into the series!

Nr. 1 “Hexen in der Stadt-Ingeborg Engelhardt”

We read this book in seventh grade and immediately after reading (actually during reading as well) we asked ourselves how and why someone thought “Hell yeah, that’s a topic for 11 year olds” since the book is originally listed for grade 5 and 6.

The story takes place in a German town during the Thirty years war, the witch hunts are running wild and the church is all over the place. The story follows a family of four who live in this town, the father is a doctor, one daughter is read-headed and the other a sleep walker. And although the father is greatly needed in this time, the towns people are really suspicious of the family, and they have to flee the city.

First of all, the book was so dense, it was almost unbearable. Definitely not something for children and yet the book won the “Youth literature award” in Germany, so I guess it wasn’t too bad after all. I honestly don’t remember a lot from it, I know we watched a horrible movie about it and I also remember that the pacing(?) in the book was weird, because the first 80% or so took reaaaally long to read through and virtually nothing happened and then in the last 20% everything happened all at once and it was just too much.

Nr. 2 “Am kürzeren Ende der Sonnenallee-Thomas Brussig”

The only (apparent) reason why we read this book was because we had our final class trip to Berlin in year 10.

 The setting is the DDR, East-Berlin to be precise, somewhere around 1970ish. Our protagonist Micha lives in a street which was cut in half my the Berlin Wall and he, unfortunately enough, lives in East-Berlin. He frequent meets with his friends in a nearby park where they listen to West-Music and swoon about Miriam, the neighborhood beauty who is kinda a not-like-other-girls-girl.

All in all, the books is about searching happiness and thinking about how it is so very close and yet never being able to reach it.

It was comfortable to read and overall it was an okay novel. I don’t remember much about it, although I literally read it a year ago. The insight about east-Berlin was cool, and the author definitely implemented own experiences and as someone who grew up in post-split Westgermany it was rather informative and interesting. The quote on the back of the book was also pretty.

“Happy people have a bad memory and rich memoirs”

Nr. 3 “Frühlings Erwachen-Frank Wendekind”

(Springs Awakening)

Oh. My. God. This whole topic was such a BS and I hated every second of it.

The book takes place, once again, in a German Town in a time where there is no Sex-Ed, aka 1900th century, which is also the topic of the book; Sex-Ed gone wrong. Our first protagonist Wendla grows up in a home with a loving, strict mother and far, far away from everything unholy like sex. Our second protagonist, Melchior, is a really smart, really handsome boy who is the top of his class and who likes to read provocative literature which makes him think about masturbation. His best friend is also handsome but really stupid but the social pressure keeps him from dropping out of school- that and his strict, abusive father. Melchior and Wendla fall in love (he hits her with sticks after she metions that she has never been hurt before), have Sex(he rapes her) and after Wendla gets pregnant and dies after an attempted abortion via poisonous plants her aunt have her, Melchior is only mildly devastated. He turns sad, and kinda crazy, after his best friend commits suicide. He has a rendez-vous with the ghost and death itself, he is happy again? I dunno, the whole book was all over the place.

Worse than the book was the discussions we had in class afterwards. One time we had to argue whether it was in-fact rape or if it was just sex. Second discussion we had was about Wendla being a masochist.

The worst thing about the whole topic was the stupid ass movie adaptation.

You think Percy Jackson has it bad? Oh boy. Ohhh boy. The movie plays in the 2000s, graffiti, cool skater boys, rapper-wannabes and early 2000s fashion included. The names stayed tho, cause why not name the male protagonist Melchior in 2001. There are scenes where teenagers, TEENAGERS, go to a brothel. Ah, I forgot.

They are 13-14, book and movie alike.

10/10 would NOT recommend.

Nr. 4 “Der Besuch der alten Dame-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The visit)

(No, not the horror movie)

Oh my goodness, I loved this book.

Picture this. A small town in a German province far away from any major cities with a single trail connection between Hambourg and Zurich, aka the whole length of Germany, where virtually nothing happens. One day, a former resident, comes for a visit. But not just anyone, Claire frikking Zachanassian comes for a visit.

And for blood, because this sixty-something, badass multi-billionaire who got her fortune by marrying a bunch of men who died coincidentally one after the other proposes to the town an offer.

One billion for the head of the man, Alfred the third, who expelled her out of the town after getting her pregnant and lying about it in court after she sued him.

They sent her away in the train, called her a hoe and laughed about her. She lived in a brother for a little while, her son died, and a horny, rich man decided to marry her because why not.  

At first the towns people are disgusted by the offer, outraged by the immoral offer and they straight up deny it. “I’ll wait, Claire says”.

You see, the town is really, really poor. Not only because it is in a terrible location commercially wise, but also because Claire bought every factory in the town and brought them all to a stand still to slowly dry the city out. She planned this revenge.

And you see, the proposal of 500 million split between the inhabitants and 500 million for the industry of the city sounds great if you are on the brink of disaster and hunger and misery. But surely, with such an immoral offer, no one would want to commit a crime? Or would they.

Because, now that I look at it, Alfred really did something horrible… maybe, just maybe I can allow myself to stack up some dept.

And Alfred grew more and more paranoid. Begging Claire to stop this, apologizing on his knees, crying and sleeping with one open eye at all times.

We discussed in our class what we would do. We didn’t really came to a conclusion since we had nothing to compare, not one of us was ever asked to make such a decision. “It depends” was our final answer.

They do kill him in the end. It doesn’t end happy, Claire isn’t happy, but she does give the towns people their money. I really enjoyed reading this book. The female “antagonist” was refreshingly bad-ass and the moral despair was entertaining to read.

We learn that Claire is rich and powerful, but that she lost so much innocence, so much energy to enjoy her life in such young years that, as a reader, you cannot not sympathize with her.

Nr. 5 “Das Versprechen-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The pledge)

Hands down the best book I’ve read in school.

This book is originally a critique by Dürrenmatt about the emerging detective novel genre where everything always works out.

The setting is in a Swiss town, 1950ish, and in the beginning the reader takes on the role of an author who meets a certain Dr. H who works for the police. They become friends and take a ride through the mountains. Upon taking a stop at a gas station, Dr. H introduces us to a seemingly old, smoking, alcohol-reeking man and a scruffy looking girl. The narrator is confused, asks who these people are, and back in the car, we learn that this is the former detective, no-one-escapes-me, super-brain Matthäi.

From that point on the narrator switches and we are now in a third person narrator perspective.

Matthäi is introduced again, this happening in the past, as a hard-working, clean, structured man who doesn’t smoke, drink or disobeys rules. No one really likes him in the office, but they value that he just so good at his job. But because he is so unapproachable, they want to sent him away to Jordan.

The week he was planning to travel there, a young girl is raped and then brutally murdered in a small town nearby. And because he is Mister Superbrain, he goes there to help investigate.

The other officers at the crime scene are (understandably) uncomfortable, they don’t want to talk to the family, or the people there in general. So Matthäi talks to everyone. He is a very calm, collected, cold man. So he meets with the family, tells them what happened to their daughter and is utterly, completely shocked when the mother just blankly stares in his face, and asks him to promise her to find the murderer of her daughter. He is shocked by the lack of emotion in this moment and sees himself in this cold visage of the mother. He promises her, just to get away from her as fast as possible, and drives back to be office.

I don’t want to spoil too much because this book is just so good, but oh my god

I’m in general a sucker for drastic changes in character or demeanor (hence why I liked The Visit so much as well) but his book takes everything to another level. They “plottwist” is so incredibly frustrating and nerve wraking to read, the perspective changes provide so much more depth.

And for the first time I finally read a really intricate, morally gray character.

Nr. 6 “Nathan der Weise-G. E. Lessing”

(Nathan the Wise)

This book was kinda eh. If I had so summarize it as fast as possible it would probably be “Religion and accidental incest”. It is about the three world religions and stereotypes between them, about genocide and also about stigmatization. It ends on a nice note, tho.

The only really remarkable passage of this book is the so-called “Ringparabel” in which Nathan answers to the question which religion is the real, big OG of them all. It is pretty nice and the symbolism is really fitting as well. The beginning of the book is incredibly boring but it does get better in the end. All in all not a total waste of time and money but nothing I would read again.

Nr. 7 “Die Leiden des jungen Werther- Goethe”

(The sorrows of young Werther)

Ah yes, no German class without Goethe. This book is written in a way that lets the reader really seep into Werthers emotion because it is written as a letter-novel. Werther is a young, nature-loving guy who (in the beginning of the book) is just really happy, go-lucky and over all nice. Then he meets Lotte, a young, pretty, smart and book-loving woman who is empathic to all those around her.  He falls in love with her, despite knowing that she is literally engaged and about to marry. She knows he loves her, her fiance know he loves her and literally everyone knows he loves her and they are ok with it? I dunno. Werther has a severe Seasonal-affective-Disorder. He kinda makes it through the first winter after meeting Lotte but never really recovers, even during summer. In the second winter, he can’t take it anymore and he commits suicide.

I liked the book (not only because I can identify with the SAD). In the end we learn that Lotte isn’t as good as we originally think she is; She is actually really possessive of Werther and although she wants him to be happy, she doesn’t think anyone is good enough for him and thus he should just stay close to her. She enjoys the attention given by her husband, who is actually really nice and whom she does love, and by Werther who is utterly and completely obsessed with her.

Opinions on this book split 50/50 with my friends. Some of them think like me and they see the heart break and the desire to move on but ultimately, the way attraction is so so strong. Some other friends, more specifically my Help-with-Maths-Go-to-Guy hated this book with a burning passion. I can see why. The imagery is sometimes a tad too far-fetched and the wording is, in true Goethe-Fashion really hard to read and the sentences are kinda messed up as well.

But in the end it is still the book which opened the way for Goethe to be one of the greatest writers in Europe and I can see why.

Oh wow. This concludes all the books I read thus far. There will be definitely more to come next year and maybe I’ll do another post like this once I read some more.

I hope you enjoyed to read my thoughts and maybe felt inspired to look into one of these as well!

See you soon!

#books #german highschool #goethe #durrenmatt #my thoughts and opinions #we read more but these are the ones i recall best

[emospritelet]

second list prompt : 31) “Life is not a fairytale. If you lose your shoe at midnight, you’re drunk.”

Last time, Belle managed to tell Gold she was pregnant, and Gold managed to say the wrong thing.

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list if you want me to hurt the babies :)

[Ch 1] [AO3]

Belle ignored the phone when Gold called her back, sitting on the couch with her knees pressed together as she glared at his number flashing up at her. It gave her a strange sense of power to be the one sitting in cold silence when he was desperate to speak to her, and she told herself it was fair payment for all the nights she had cried alone after their break-up. Nights in which she suspected he had not lost a wink of sleep over her heartbreak. Eventually he appeared to give up on calling, the phone letting out a chime to indicate that she had a new message. She glanced at it, curling her lip at his curt request for a call, but opened up her contact list and entered his number. It wasn’t as though she could avoid speaking to him forever, and someone else might have to call him when she had the baby, so she needed his contact details to hand rather than simply burned into her brain along with the sound of his voice and the memory of his lips on her skin. Saving his number under the name Grade A. Arsehole gave her a certain petty satisfaction.

She dropped the phone into her bag, sitting back with a sigh and running a hand over the curve of her belly.

“Well,” she said. “That was your dad. Here’s hoping you don’t inherit his nature.”

She wiped the last few tears from her cheeks, taking a few calming breaths, and was surprised to find that she felt better for having spoken to him, however briefly. Odd, that it was his comment about the baby’s parentage that stopped her crying. Perhaps it had made her too angry to remember how scared she was. Perhaps rage was the best way to get through their interactions. She shook her head, slumping back against the cushions. No. It wasn’t good for her to hold so much anger. Heartbreak was more than enough to cope with.

Glancing at her watch, she sighed and pushed to her feet. A study session in the library awaited, and it would likely be a late one. She regretted not taking her friend Emma up on the offer of dinner beforehand, but she had decided that she couldn’t put off telling Gold any longer, and knowing what she had to do had stolen her appetite. Her belly still griped, but she knew she had to eat for the baby’s sake, and so she made a cheese and tomato sandwich, wrapping it in a paper napkin to eat on the way to the library.

She had not been two months into her Master’s degree in library science when she found out she was pregnant. Coincidentally, that had also been the day she met Emma, who had offered comfort when she found Belle weeping in the university toilets. Emma was twenty-seven, blonde-haired and pretty, and had an eight-year old son with her husband Neal. The three of them were crammed into a small two-bed apartment, but they were a happy little family, and Belle considered herself lucky to have them as friends. Emma was a mine of information on pregnancy and childbirth, and had already given Belle a lot of Henry’s old things, including a crib and stroller that Belle would never have been able to afford. She also made Belle think that perhaps raising a child alone wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world; Neal had been in prison when Emma gave birth, and had missed the first eighteen months of Henry’s life, a fact that he had regretted ever since. It had been Neal that had encouraged Belle to call Gold and tell him that he had a child on the way. Belle still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing in that regard, but it was too late to back out now.

When she reached the library, Emma was sheltering by the entrance, a beanie hat pulled down over her blonde curls and a padded coat keeping the bitter wind from her.

“Oh good, you’re here, I was freezing my ass off,” she said, and tilted her head to the side. “You okay? Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” said Belle tiredly.

“And?”

“Well, I told him.”

“What did he say?”

Belle sighed.

“He asked me if I was sure it was his,” she said dryly. “So I hung up on him.”

Emma winced.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Belle pushed at the double doors, and Emma followed her in.

“Did he call back?”

“Yeah, several times.”

“You ignored him, right?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It’s what I’d do.”

Their footsteps echoed in the corridor, several students sweeping past them with books in their arms, and Belle turned into the main library area, where tables were pushed together and quiet group study was allowed. Stacks of books reached up towards the ceiling, carpets cushioning their steps, and she and Emma found an empty table, shrugging off coats and getting out books.

“So, how did you guys leave things?” asked Emma quietly, as she opened up her laptop. Belle pulled a face.

“We didn’t,” she said. “I was too angry to speak to him after that, so I - I guess I’m gonna have to call him tomorrow, or something. I needed time to think. Hearing his voice was…”

She shrugged uncomfortably, and Emma nodded.

“Still hurts, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Belle quietly. “Does it ever stop?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “It would help if you weren’t still in love with the guy.”

“I am not!” protested Belle, making some nearby students frown. She lowered her voice, leaning towards Emma, who was grinning. “I’m not, but - well, I guess it just brought it all back, that’s all. Back to when I thought we might have something. It’s - it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” said Emma gently. “If he’s too much of an asshole to see how amazing you are, he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“He doesn’t want me,” said Belle, feeling a stab of pain. “But that’s beside the point. It’s not about what he deserves. It’s about our child.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

“I don’t know.” She slumped on the desk, chin resting on her folded arms. “I thought I knew him, right up until he ripped my heart out. Now, though…”

She shrugged, and Emma gave her a sympathetic look.

“You still think he’ll try to take the baby from you, huh?” she said knowingly.

“I - I worry about it, yeah,” admitted Belle. “I don’t exactly have my life together right now, do I?”

“You have your own place—”

“I have a one-bed on the third floor in a building where the elevator doesn’t work.”

“—and you’re studying for a Master’s degree!” went on Emma. “You have your life way more together than I did when I had Henry!”

“Yeah, well.” Belle sat up, pulling a face. “We’ll see if that’s good enough.”

“When are you gonna call him?”

“I don’t know.” She ran her hands over her face. “I kind of like the fact that he doesn’t know where I am and has to wait for me to call him. Is that petty?”

“Petty as hell, but I think you’re entitled.” said Emma. “Guy was an asshat.”

“Yeah,” sighed Belle. “Yeah, he absolutely was.”

Emma put her head to the side, rolling a pencil between her fingers.

“You think he’s seeing anyone else?”

Belle felt a sharp stab of jealousy at the thought, and told herself not to be an idiot.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t care, either.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma sounded unconvinced. “You might want to practice that one in front of the mirror before you say it to his face, honey.”

“I mean it!”

“Sure you do.”

Belle stuck out her tongue, and Emma bopped her on the nose with the end of the pencil, grinning.

“Anyway, I have more important things on my mind than worrying about who Alex might be dating,” said Belle glumly. “Like the fact that I’ll be giving birth in a couple of months. I can’t believe how fast the time goes. This time last year I was happy. I was in love, I had my whole future ahead of me. And now—”

“Now you have a different future,” acknowledged Emma. “But it’ll be awesome in different ways. Believe me.”

“I guess.” Belle folded her arms, leaning on the table again. “Maybe I was naive, thinking my first love would be some sort of - of - fairytale romance with a happy ever after.”

“Life is not a fairytale,” said Emma bluntly, waving the pencil at her. “If you lose your shoe at midnight, you’re drunk.”

Belle giggled.

“Can’t remember what that’s like,” she said, and Emma sniffed.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I got you covered. As soon as you’re up for it after the baby’s born, it’s girls’ night, okay? You, me, and enough booze to choke a horse. We’ll leave Neal looking after the kids.”

Belle laughed harder, and opened up her laptop.

“Okay,” she said. “You’re on.”

x

Gold had slept poorly, rising early and putting on a pot of coffee. He drank it seated on his back porch while he thought over his plans for the day. Belle had not called back, and he was moving back and forth between anxious concern and seething anger. He needed to find her. He needed to go to Boston. Which meant that he needed her address, and the one person he thought might have it was the last man he wanted to speak to.

Moe French had been surprisingly punctual with his rent payments since Belle had left town, which meant that Gold rarely had to interact with him. He prepared himself for the occasion by donning his three-piece armour, fine black pinstriped wool with a charcoal grey shirt and a tie in silk the colour of gunmetal. The two men had detested one another long before Moe had discovered Gold was sleeping with his daughter, and the manner of their break-up had only strengthened that dislike. Gold rubbed a hand over his freshly-shaven chin, remembering the punch Moe had given him the night before Belle had left town for good. It had hurt, but not as much as Belle’s final words, or the knowledge that he had pushed her away forever. He had deserved every bit of pain.

Shoving the memories away with a ruthless thrust, he took a final look in the mirror, straightening the knot in his tie as he shook back his hair, and drew on his overcoat before looping a cashmere scarf around his neck to cut the wind. The morning was fine, if bitter, so he slipped on a pair of dark glasses before heading out into the cold air of early spring.

When he reached the town, Granny’s Diner was already busy with customers drinking cups of the strong, bitter coffee and wolfing down fried eggs and bacon. The florist’s shop was open, Moe French setting out buckets of roses and carnations in a stand outside, red and yellow blooms tumbling together in a riot of cheerful colour. His eyes narrowed as Gold approached.

“Rent’s not due until next week,” he said curtly, and Gold showed his teeth.

“Oh, I’m not here for the rent.”

“Then we’ve got nothing to say to one another, have we?”

Moe stomped into the shop, and Gold followed, cane tapping against the floor. The interior smelled pleasant, of green plants and fragrant flowers, and he took his time, his stride almost a swagger by the time he reached the cash register. Moe was glowering at him from behind it, baseball cap pulled down over his cropped hair, thick fingers twitching on the counter, as though he wanted to put them around Gold’s throat. He was a tall, somewhat thickset man, with the baggy-eyed look of one who drank too much and had an aversion to green vegetables and exercise. Gold folded his hands over the cane handle, allowing himself a tiny smirk for no other reason than it would annoy Moe, and was rewarded with a scowl.

“What do you want?” asked Moe aggressively.

“I was wondering if you’d heard from your daughter,” said Gold.

He kept his tone careless, but watched sharply from behind the glasses. Moe’s nostrils flared, his jaw protruding a little.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped. “I told you to stay away from her!”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Gold quietly. “You see, I believe she left town with something of mine. Something very valuable. I’d like it back.”

Moe’s expression changed from angry to cautious.

“She didn’t say anything to me,” he said gruffly. “Last I heard she was heading out of town on some trip with her boyfriend. New York, I think.”

“Right.” Gold nodded slowly. “In that case, I’ll trouble you for her address. You know, for when she gets back from her - trip.”

Moe gave him an unpleasant smile.

“If you’re so sure she has something of yours, Gold, how about you call her and ask for it yourself?” he said. “I’m not being your bloody lackey. And I’m definitely not telling you where she lives!”

Gold shook his head slowly, tutting under his breath.

“You remember how unpleasant I can be when crossed, Mr French, I’m sure,” he said, and Moe curled his lip.

“You’re unpleasant every fucking time I see you,” he said. “Hit me with that bloody cane all you want, but the best decision my daughter ever made was leaving town, and I’m not gonna help you find her, okay?”

“You think you can keep me from what’s rightfully mine, do you?” snapped Gold, and Moe snorted.

“Seems to me you take whatever the hell you want, and screw the consequences,” he said. “Why don’t you just let her go? She’s moved on with her life, and you’re here, stuck in the past, doing what you always do. Slithering around town like a fucking parasite waiting for a host to latch onto.”

Gold gave him a twisted smile.

“I suppose you’d know all about that.”

“Insult me all you like,” said Moe. “Won’t make me give you what you want. You don’t change. You’re just a selfish piece of shit, Gold, like you’ve always been.”

“And you’re what?” drawled Gold. “Father of the Year? Must have escaped my notice.”

“Believe it or not I’ve only ever wanted what was best for her,” said Moe roughly. “For all the bloody thanks I got.”

“As much as it may pain you to hear it, that’s what I wanted too,” said Gold coldly, and Moe let out a hollow laugh.

“Bullshit!” he snapped. ”You’re not interested in anything that doesn’t turn a profit! If Belle’s dumb enough to let you back in, that’s her problem. I’m not being a party to it, is all. Now either buy something, or get the hell out.”

Gold wanted to grind his teeth, but instead he nodded curtly, turning on his heel and striding swiftly from the shop. There were other ways to find Belle.

Stepping out into the sunlight, he headed for his shop, feeling a strange sort of relief as he closed the door behind him and headed through to the dark quiet of the back room. He pulled off the glasses, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that stood next to the painted silk screen he had never managed to sell. Eyes flashing with anger, jaw tight, hair hanging around his face, streaks of silver at his temples. Exactly how Belle had left him, when she had walked out of his life and dragged his shattered heart behind her on the road. He had tried to go on as though it had never happened, as though they had never happened. Perhaps Moe French was right. Perhaps he would never change.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking to see if Belle had called before dialling her number again. This time it went straight to voicemail without ringing, and he growled under his breath. She was avoiding him. So be it. He called his associate Mr Dove instead, asking him to work his usual magic with the few details he had on Belle and her whereabouts. As he hung up, he glanced at his reflection again, his mouth twisting. Belle had moved on, had gone on with her life just as he had wanted her to. Perhaps it was time for him to make some changes of his own.

Nodding to himself, he tugged the overcoat around himself again and left the shop, heading up the road past the diner before turning off into one of the side streets. Rapunzel’s was his regular hair salon, and if his favourite stylist Ivy was there, he would see if she could fit him in. Perhaps a new look could give him a fresh perspective. A new start. A new life. It was time to stop dwelling on the past

x

Belle’s day had not gone well.

It had started with her waking late due to forgetting to set an alarm, and in her panic burning the toast she was making for a quick breakfast. Swearing under her breath, she had thrown the burnt toast away and gulped down some tea before hurrying to the bathroom to brush her teeth. It was then that she had found a leak coming from her toilet, a pool of water slowly spreading outward around the base and soaking into the mat she had laid over the linoleum flooring. She had called the landlord, who promised to send someone out to fix it, and she had run back into the bedroom to get dressed. Her belly seemed to have grown in the night, and she needed to do laundry, so the only thing that fitted was a pair of denim dungarees. Muttering curses at everything she could think of, she pulled them on over a white T-shirt before quickly dragging a brush through her hair and twisting it up into a knot. There was no time for make-up, but by that point she had been past caring, and so she had rushed out of the apartment.

Lack of breakfast made it hard to concentrate on her studies, and she was snappy and exhausted even before discovering that she had forgotten to bring the lunch she had left in the fridge the night before. It meant that she would have to dip into her meagre supply of money to buy something from the cafeteria. It was tempting to slink back home, crawl into bed and pretend the day was over, but the paper that was due wouldn’t write itself, and so she trudged to the library, trying to concentrate while worrying over whether her apartment had flooded.

It was after six when she was done, and she packed up her things with a sigh, desperately tired, hungry, and wanting to burst into tears. The baby had been kicking, which usually made her smile, but which was only reminding her that she still had to deal with its father. She had kept her phone on silent, but Gold had called half a dozen times or more already, and she knew she would have to speak to him eventually. Holding a conversation with him while tired, stressed and hungry didn’t seem to be the best course of action, and so she decided to leave it until the following day. She made her way back to the apartment, swearing when she saw that the elevator was still broken, and trudged up three flights of stairs to her floor.

When she entered the apartment, it was very obvious that the plumber the landlord had promised to send had not been there, and Belle growled under her breath as she threw her bag of books onto the couch. The laundry hamper was overflowing, so she needed to deal with that. She also needed to take a shower, as she had not had time that morning. At least dinner was a no-brainer; she could eat the lunch she had prepared. She decided to ignore the laundry until she felt able to cope with it, and so she went into the bathroom, frowning at the leak that was still spreading outwards from the toilet, and turning on the water. There was a dull, ominous clunk from the pipes, and Belle squealed as a jet of water sprayed out from one of the joints, soaking her. She scrabbled at the mixer tap, turning it off.

“Fucking thing!”

She was drenched, the entire front of her dungarees and the T-shirt beneath soaked through. Wet cotton was sticking to her skin and making her shiver, and she wiped water from her face, wanting to scream. First the toilet and now the shower? This day sucks! A knock at the door made her glance around, and she almost sagged with relief. The plumber! Thank God, he can deal with this bloody thing too!

Wiping wet hands on her dungarees, she hurried to the door, quickly peeking through the spy hole. She could see the back of a man’s head, greying hair cropped short above a black coat, and so she unlocked the door, wrenching it open.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she gasped. “I’m kind of having a situation—”

She cut off as the man swivelled on the toes of black, shining shoes to face her, the gleaming shaft of a cane coming to rest between his feet. Belle’s eyes travelled up from his toes, taking in the all-too-familiar three-piece suit and overcoat. He had cut his hair, silvery wisps just brushing the tips of his slightly-pointed ears, his eyes dark brown beads boring into her. Gold’s mouth was set in a grim line, and she felt her heart thump painfully in her chest.

“Miss French,” he said quietly. “It seems we need to have a conversation.”

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle #ripperblackstaff

[theyearoftheking]

Book Twenty-Six: The Drawing of the Three

“Here is another one ready to die for you, Roland. What great wrong did you ever do that you should inspire such terrible loyalty in so many?”

I’m annoyed. I had almost this entire blog written and thanks to the magic of the interwebz, it never saved as a draft, and is now gone forever. I’m trying to keep my rage to a manageable level, I have a conference call in about an hour, and rage would not be appreciated. 

So, let’s try this again. 

Yes, I totally just saved this as a draft once again. I’m going to be compulsively doing that for the next hour. My apologies, you’ll be getting a far less robust post than I initially intended. Blame Tumblr. 

I loved opening The Drawing of the Three and reading it for the hundredth time. I can’t explain the comfort that comes with Roland waking up on the beach to the lobstrosities, or looking at the bizarre artwork that doesn’t match up with my mental images of the story. Or reading about Eddie and Susannah/Detta/Odetta and their fantastic backstories. This is one of my favorite books in the Dark Tower universe and re-reading it is never a disappointment.

However, I fear I’ve been doing something all wrong up until this point. I have been keeping track of Dark Tower mentions in other books, but I wasn’t prepared for the number of other Steve books mentioned within this one. So far we’ve got:

The Shining: Eddie talks repeatedly about the movie, and even speaks very highly of Stanley Kubrick, so that was fun. 

The Stand/The Eyes of the Dragon: towards the end of the novel, Roland mentions our crafty friend Flagg. 

Misery: Jack Mort, the “pusher” refers to himself as a “Do-Bee;” a reference that would have made no sense to me had I not just finished reading Misery. 

This is me, trying to tie all the threads together...

One glaring thing I never picked up on until this re-read: this book should have been called The Drawing of the Two. Yes, Roland walks through three doors, but only ends up with two members of his ka-tet. He basically just uses Jack Mort as a way to stock back up on ammo and medicine. Wow... Roland isn’t that different from social distancing hoarders right now. But I digress. We don’t get the final member of our ka-tet until the next book.

Ka. 

For those not familiar with the term, Roland defines it as, “...it means duty, or destiny, or in the vulgate, a place you must go...I don’t discuss philosophy. I don’t study history. All I know is what’s past is past, and what’s ahead is ahead. The second is ka, and takes care of itself.” 

The Drawing of the Three opens with Roland washed up on a beach, having his extremities munched on by lobstosities. He ends up losing a toe, and two fingers; which is bad business for a gunslinger. He fights off the lobstrosities, and passes out further up the beach and out of the reach of their little claws. 

Roland eventually starts his sojourn down the beach where he encounters the first of three doors. This one is labeled, “The Prisoner”. The prisoner in question is Eddie Dean, a heroin junkie currently flying back to New York from Nassau, with cocaine taped to his body. Smart, right? Roland basically jumps into Eddie’s body and helps him evade customs officers by transporting the drugs back through the door and into his world. There’s an ensuing gunfight with the Italian mafioso who hired Eddie to smuggle the drugs, and Roland helps him survive. 

There’s also a lot of back story about Eddie’s brother, Henry Dean: eminent sage and junkie; who was responsible for getting Eddie hooked on drugs in the first place; and the guilt Eddie feels for Henry’s death. Eddie is a complex, well-drawn character that you equally sympathize with, and want to kill. 

Roland and Eddie are a hot mess: Eddie is going through heroin withdrawals, and Roland is fighting off an infection from the lobstrosities bites. But they keep pushing on, and make their way to the second door: “The Lady of Shadows”. The “lady” is Detta, or Odetta Holmes, depending on which personality has come out to play. Odetta Holmes is the wealthy heir to a dental fortune, and she spends her days doing the things classy ladies do: shopping, lunching, civil rights protesting, and being driven around town, because a she’s missing her legs from the knees down (the result of being pushed in front of a subway train). Odetta is pretty, kind, and well spoken. Detta on the other hand, is a demon from hell. Neither woman knows of the other, and when Detta is inhabiting her body, Odetta think she’s just had a bad headache and has passed out for a bit.

As someone who suffers from migraines, I seriously hope I don’t have an evil twin who takes over when I’m passed out. My drunk alter ego, Rosie, is already too much for me to have to deal with. 

But Roland and Eddie have their hands full with Odetta/Detta; and Detta keeps trying to kill them every chance she gets. It’s both terrifying and entertaining. Eddie is over the worst of his withdrawals, but Roland is seriously knocking on death’s door by the time they find the third door: “The Pusher”. 

The Pusher is Jack Mort, who is responsible for pushing Odetta in front of a subway train, and in a coincidental turn of events; dropped a brick on her head when she was a small girl, which could have caused the Odetta/Detta personalities. And, remember Jake from the The Gunslinger? Mort was maybe the one who pushed Jake in front of a taxi and killed him. But unlike Eddie and Odetta/Detta, Roland doesn’t bring Jack back with him. Instead, he just inhabits his body to get antibiotics and ammo. As you do. 

Roland forces Jack to jump in front of the same subway train that maimed Odetta/Detta; which kills him, but also causes a battle royale between the two personalities and ultimately creates Susannah Dean: a combination of her two previous personalities. 

Got all that? 

So, Roland recovers from his infection, Eddie and Susannah fall in love, and Roland admits he’s probably going to end up sacrificing them both on his journey for the tower. 

The end. 

I’m pretty sure my first review was more eloquent, but you get the idea. It’s a fantastic story full of deep character development, and it leaves you wondering what’s going to happen in the next installment. Well, if we were reading these in real time, we’d only have four years to wait for the next book. But, we only have six more books to read before we get back to Jake, Blane, and the Wastelands. Bring it!!! 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 16

Total Dark Tower References: 21

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Next up is The Tommyknockers, which I know absolutely nothing about. But the first few pages involve a beagle, soooo... there’s that. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #239

i just want to sincerely apologize if my surveys take a negative nosedive again. i know this one’s kinda grim and i don’t want to make that a routine, but things are just rough right now and i’m not gonna lie on a survey, y’know.

Do you know anyone who works at McDonald’s? Not that I'm aware of. Do you know anyone who plays heaps of sports? Probably through school. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Where do your cousins live? Aaaaaaall over the U.S. Have you met any of your second cousins? Possibly at some point? Do you like the All-American Rejects? I like "Move Along" and "It Ends Tonight" is good, but that's all off the top of my head. Oh wait, of course there's "Gives You Hell." When was the last time you wore a skirt? WOW I have ZERO clue. Probably not since elementary years. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty. If so, which one(s)? There are way too many. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Me, Sara, probably others. Which one of your friends has great music taste? Sara. Was the last person you hung out with single? That would be my young niece and nephew... so yeah. Have you ever attended a private school? I'm a private college now. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, thank Christ. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? I made breakfast for Sara once. If your phone has a hole for phone charms, is it on the left or right side? I don't have one. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Kinda like... suburban mixed with rural. I don't wanna be totally isolated, particularly away from necessary stores and such, but I also do NOT wanna be swarmed by people. Maybe like a loose neighborhood in the woods outside a small town? Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara. Did you use a pencil today? No. Are you adopted? Nope. Have you ever had your car break down on you? Never when I've driven, not that that's been much. With Mom, yes. Dad, idr. Jason's prom night, yeah; his truck broke down otw home at a stop light. Oof. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? My mom. It's the worst. When was the last time you ate at your favorite restaurant? Oh wow, probably not since my last birthday. What was the last thing someone gave you? A close family friend/my former teacher lent me a $20 just in case I needed anything while my mom was up in NY. Can you write your name in a foreign language? My first name (at least) is the same in German; even though "y" doesn't exist in the language, I guess it does for foreign names?? Idk about my last name. Who is the person you often go to for venting? Sara. Do you keep an actual journal or diary? No, not anymore. I did briefly when I had that WILD and totally random Jason obsession episode, but once I came off that godawful medicine and I went back to normal, I deleted it. Have you ever been prescribed Vicodin? That sounds very familiar... Maybe? Perhaps that's what was prescribed after my surgery? Have you ever cheated on someone without them finding out about it? Well considering I've never cheated and never would, I can't answer this. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Who were you with the last time you went swimming? Colleen, at the beach. Does your dining table currently have place mats on it? No; we don't even eat at it. What was the last thing you cooked in an oven? I myself have literally never used an oven. I'm scared to. Oh wait, yeah I have... on some occasions where Mom needed me to put something in there or take something out, but idr what. But boy and I can tell you without memory that I was jumpy as hell about it. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? No. It's difficult for me to like-like people, especially men when you consider I'm generally afraid of them, on top of I'm just paranoid and don't trust easily. Do you prefer wheat or white bread? Wheat. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No, but coincidentally, I actually have that on my Christmas wishlist. Have you ever had an “exotic” or “abnormal” pet? Do you consider a Chinese water dragon "exotic?" Then I have a ball python morph. Have you ever eaten lobster? No, and considering crab is nauseating, I doubt lobster would be too different. What is your grade point average (if you’re still in school)? I don't know right now and don't know where to find it. Have you ever played croquet? Oh yeah. My sisters and I LOVED that shit as kids. Who was the last person you called? Dad. Have you ever watched Ghostbusters? No, believe it or not. When was the last time you drew a picture? Yikes... been a while. Not since I started a concept drawing of encompassing a panic attack in a meerkat form, as I tend to do. I haven't touched it in months. It's right on the second shelf of the table beside me, so... my only remaining excuse as to not finish it is that the paper is horribly wrinkled now. Are you happy? Not exactly. Should you be doing something now? I could be doing the practice exam work my math professor gave us all considering it's extra credit, but. Yeah. I'm absolutely awful at math and barely passing but I don't exactly need another stressor right now. Is there a smoke detector on every floor of your house? We only have one floor. What was the last kind of soup you ate? I tried vegetable soup anyway when I got my tongue pierced because I literally could not eat solids for over a week, but I'm a picky asshole who didn't like it so wasted the can. I had to survive almost exclusively on meal replacement shakes and popsicles. Warning from the wise: you want your tongue pierced? You better fucking want it bad because healing is a P R O C E S S. Or at least mine was, having to get it re-done and all... Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever went a year without getting your hair cut? I don't think a year... but maybe? Do you think you could go a week without sugar? Considering sugar is in like... EVERYTHING, probably no? Would you be willing to go one day each week without meat? I don't really pay attention, but I probably already do. I'd like to eat as little meat as possible. Hell, I wish I could go full-on vegan. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NO. Do you have any talents that your friends don’t know about? No. Are you any good at sewing? Never tried, not interested. Has anyone ever interviewed you about one of your hobbies/talents? No. Would you ever consider experimenting with drugs? Marijuana for medical purposes if I didn't have to smoke it. I'm not smoking anything, I don't care what it is. What’s been tugging on your heart lately? I guess life in general. Mortality, death. Teddy died in my arms, I saw my grandmother physically ravaged by cancer, and just life hasn't been the kindest lately. I've been thinking about how time just flies, how every moment should be cherished even though it's so fucking hard, and just yeah. I don't wanna go down this rabbit hole. Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? I don't know dude I shouldn't be taking a survey during like an existential crisis lol. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Decided to get some really unhealthy fries with my dinner. Would you have sex with the last person you texted? It's not a matter of "would," I want to. I may have already, I don't really know what separates foreplay from lesbian sex. Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? This isn't even an argument anymore, it's fact. It's a mind-altering substance. "Drug" does not always equate to bad, either. Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? It'd be nice. Do you require a lot of private time? Oh yeah, but way less than I used to. I get depressed if I'm alone for too long now. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? N/A What is your favorite classic Disney movie? The Lion King. Do you like looking at old photographs? Yeah, usually. Do you enjoy puzzles? Yeah. Do you prefer painting or drawing? Drawing by a long shot. I'm taking a painting course this upcoming semester though, so hopefully that'll up my skill and thus enjoyment of it. Do you ever wear high heels? No, I don't have a reason to. Do you use belts? No, considering I never wear anything with belt loops. When was the last time you played Uno? Oh my fucking god, it's been forever, thankfully. When I lived with Colleen, as did her younger sister, we played Uno a lot, and then, AND THEN, came the night Chelsea dyed my hair red. Mind you, the ONLY TIME dyeing my hair had been truly successful and long-lasting. The process took hours, and we played Uno round after Uno round... and now I literally hate it. What do you like better, kiwis or pineapple? Oh man, I love both, but I gotta say kiwi. Are you trying to grow out your hair? No, I actually need to cute it again. What is your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne? Don't have one, really. Have you ever wanted to try karate? Not seriously. How often do you drink water? Ah yikes... I really fell out of my regular habit of drinking multiple bottles daily. Do you ever wear headbands? No. How many video games do you own? A lot. There's like a huge CD case in a living room drawer full of them. I've been considering making an EBay or something to sell a shitload of them as I'm sure a lot are actually pretty valuable now, but I think a lot about how I want to pass them down to my current and possibly future nieces and nephews when they get to a certain age to figure video games out or even have a console that can play PS1-PS3. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. What’s your favorite suburb in the city you live in? Why would you... name that on the Internet...? Besides that even, I pay no attention to suburbs' names I happen to pass. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. I don't know if I could ever muster up the courage to even go in one. I'm the type that would just order online. What’s your favorite place to get pizza? I'm a basic Domino's bitch. How many times have you been to the beach? Multiple, but not a LOT. I have little reason to ever go, and it's never my idea, that's for sure. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. Childhood home. Trying the Jiffy Pop popcorn that you make over the stove. Next thing y'know the thing is seriously on fire and we had to use the fire extinguisher. Fuck you, Jiffy Pop, the harbinger of the next fucking idiots moving in setting the entire house on fire thanks to the stove too. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No, besides like bees 'n the like being near me. Have you ever had a spray tan? No. Do you own any sports bras? Where’d you get them from? No, but I'd like at least one. Wouldn't know what to use it for, it's not like I go jogging or anything, but. I think it'd be good to have at least one. Have you ever had sex in a kitchen? No. What’s the most expensive restaurant you’ve ever eaten at? I have zero clu- no wait I'm gonna guess the Italian restaurant we went to on Sara's birthday, but that's just a guess judging by how it was fancy as fuck. Who crosses your mind the most? Sara. Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt? Probably as a kid. Ever been to an auction? No. would you ever get acupuncture? omg no Ever got stitches? At least twice. What is a must have on your french fries? At least some salt. Entirely saltless fries are boring. How do you like your meat cooked…medium rare? well done? Nothing less than medium well. If meat tastes even a little bit beneath lukewarm I can't take that shit. Are there two colors that you just simply despise? Bright yellow and puke-green. What do you usually do with recurring dreams? ... Nothing? What CAN you do? Have you ever been told you were hot by a complete stranger? I don't think someone has used the term "hot," but I know I've been called pretty, at least. Do you want to be single or with someone? I want to be with Sara. It kinda feels like we still are, like no feelings have changed, we're just not "official" anymore and not "bound" to one another. Have you ever had a sleepover with the opposite sex? I actually have twice (or thrice?) platonically with my younger neighbor FOREVER ago. We were still kids. Then there was a big (birthday?) party at my place where Juan stayed the night, and then I believe there was an occasion Girt totally knocked out on the couch so... I guess it turned into a "sleepover?" lmao Who are you closest to in your family? My mom. Who were the last 3 people to text you? Sara, Mom, and my sister. Have you ever dated someone in jail? No, and I wouldn't unless it was for something incredibly stupid or I'm aware was a false charge. What’s a movie you cannot BARE to ever watch again? Nothing's coming off the top of my head. Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? ... I just connected it all in my head. Jason got me into the Amnesia game. I got into custom stories for it. I was playing one one day. I got stuck. I YouTubed it for help. Guess. Who. I. Fuckin'. Found. This is a revelation; I have discovered the main purpose of my and Jason's relationship. Perhaps things do happen for a reason lmao. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? Not really, but I wouldn't say I'm in no way cautious. They definitely don't scare me, though. I just respect that they're very powerful animals and I'm not experienced with handling them. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yes, on rice that was literally right off the fucking stove lmao. LOOK I didn't know it had JUST come off and I was hungry as fuck but boy did I have REGRETS considering the burn lasted for well over a week, maybe two. Do you think having a sleepover with a guy is theoretically acceptable? Um, yes...????? Do you like to have cake on your birthday? Which kind of cake in mind? Yeah, and red velvet or chocolate frosted, depending on what I'm feeling.

#survey #quiz #questions #bored #random

[mythgirlimagines]

Along with Pride Month, June is also Scoliosis Awareness Month. This is my scoliosis journey.

To start off, for those of you who don’t know, scoliosis is a condition in which the spine curves more than its natural curve, resulting in a C- or S-shape. The hips or shoulders may be on a slant (one higher than the other), which is generally one way to tell if a person has scoliosis. Scoliosis is more common in girls than boys, and is much more common to need correction through bracing or surgery.

I was in the third grade when I was formally diagnosed with scoliosis. It was actually found through allergy testing, which coincidentally also caught the fact that I needed to have my tonsils removed. It took about a year for the formal diagnosis (my tonsils came out in second grade). I was put on the “wait and see” treatment plan, since I was still young and my curve wasn’t too severe.

I went to see a chiropractor about once a week, on and off, for a few years. I didn’t like it much, and I always found it strange that I was constantly complimented on my posture as a child despite my spine being curved. FYI, they have nearly nothing to do with each other. People with scoliosis can have good posture and vice versa.

But I digress. I went to an orthopedist in January of 2015. I’d had a growth spurt going into seventh grade, and my parents wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t need to be braced. That was the worst-case scenario in my mind.

There was a resident with my orthopedist that day. One of the first things he said to me was that I needed spinal fusion surgery. I was so shocked by that, I thought he was joking for a moment. My orthopedist came in a little while later and explained everything more in depth to me. My growth spurt had made my curve worse, to the point where bracing wouldn’t necessarily help. I went out crying, but with the mindset that I would be getting the surgery.

My orthopedist gave me something very valuable, too: the email of another one of her patients, who was my age and starting our own local branch of Curvy Girls Scoliosis. It’s a support group specifically for young girls, and the first meeting would be February that year. I contacted her through email, and was one of the first three girls in our local group, which has grown exponentially since then. I think we have something like 25 families total, maybe more.

That July, I had my surgery. Mine lasted only five hours, compared to the average of eight, and I was in the hospital for five days afterward to recover. By the third day I was going up and down stairs again, and my orthopedist said I handled my chest tube removal (since they went in through the side) better than most adult patients, since I hadn’t cried or complained at the pain.

My upper two lumbar and lower three thoracic vertebrae were fused and held together with a rod and screws. Sounds scary, right? Especially because I was just going into eighth grade, switching from the middle school to junior high. But I was recovering well; I was moving around easily, getting up and down with relative ease. I had to wear a protective brace in crowded places, including school, which was a definite pain, especially since I was in the ensemble of our high school’s musical that year.

I have a long scar from my upper left side, to the point where it reaches just above the band of my bra, to about six inches from the top of my belly button. a few inches away, more on my back, is the small circular scar from the chest tube. Not only that, but my ribs on that side are shaped oddly, since the doctors had to take one out completely for a bone graft and cut another in half. These traits are pretty noticeable, which may have caused me embarrassment from the unusual sight.

But they never did. That summer was actually the first where I wore a bikini- with pride. After the surgery, with a gained inch and a half and some gained weight and stretch marks, I was perfectly comfortable with my body. I still am, stretch marks and all. I don’t see why they should be erased, why I should get a tattoo over my scar or position my arm just right so the larger one isn’t seen. They’re a part of me; no need to get rid of them.

Curvy Girls Scoliosis was a definite blessing in the months before and years after my surgery. I found such a good place with them, and have a strong kinship with a lot of the girls in the group. I find pride in my scoliosis and my scars, and I feel that it’s something that a lot of people should know: scoliosis and the scars from surgery are nothing to be ashamed of. Rock them! They’re a part of you!

So yeah. That’s my experience with scoliosis. If you’re an adolescent with scoliosis and are looking for a support group, here is the link to the Curvy Girls Scoliosis website. Also, here is an amazing video that shows the bravery of these girls with scoliosis. Remember: bent, not broken.

#about me #scoliosis awareness month #my scoliosis fact(s) #feel free to hit me up with questions about this #web link #video link #scoliosis

[chasholidays]

bellarke but clarke and murphy have a weird understanding slash ride or die friendship that they don’t admit to

according to my notes, this also coincidentally fulfills @pepperf’s prompt for Bellamy in makeup, so although tumblr will not let me tag you I hope you see this anyway

Before Clarke and Murphy became friends, Clarke didn’t really think Murphy had friends. He was the kid who sat in the back of every class and made sarcastic comments and never seemed to really interact with anyone else. If someone had told Clarke that he just ceased to exist when he exited her line of sight, she would have believed them. He certainly never seemed to do anything with a lasting impact.

And then, he shows up at the first GSA meeting of tenth grade.

As someone who joined thinking she was on the “straight” side of the alliance, Clarke does get that not everyone who joins the GSA is gay, but she has trouble imagining Murphy just showing up to be a supportive ally. Even if he is somewhere on the LGBT+ spectrum, Clarke is still kind of shocked he’s showing up. She didn’t think Murphy participated in groups of any kind.

Not that he really participates in GSA either. He introduces himself only as “Murphy” every time they go around the circle for names/orientations, and then he sits in the back and cracks quiet jokes when the opportunity arises. It’s like having another class with him, except that no one is forcing him to be there. This is what he chooses to do with his time.

“It’s weird, right?” she asks Finn. He doesn’t belong to the GSA, but she gives him the updates.

Finn shrugs. “I guess. Why do you care what Murphy does?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to understand everything, princess,” he teases, and Clarke just rolls her eyes. Obviously she doesn’t have to understand, but she still wants to.

Sign-ups for the group trip to Pride happen in May, and Murphy is behind her in line, so he’s there when Taylor asks, “You’re coming, Clarke?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Pride is for LGBT members, not allies.”

“I’m bi, remember?” It’s still new, saying it out loud, a word that tastes clunky in her mouth, but it feels right. After she and Finn break up, she’d like to date a girl. That’s an experience she wants to have.

“Oh, well, still,” says Taylor, like that’s somehow all he needs to say.

Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Still what?”

“Well, you’re with Finn. I feel like it doesn’t look good for straight-passing people to be in the group.”

Clarke’s jaw drops, and she’s glad it’s anger that floods her veins and not humiliation. Taylor’s never been her favorite person, but even from him, this is a lot.

Defenses crowd her mind, but so do the inevitable counterarguments. She’s had this debate with herself so many times, if she can really be bi if she’s never kissed a girl, how she can know, how she can consider herself a part of the community when she’s dating a guy. She got through all of those things for herself, but if Taylor doesn’t think she’s bi enough for Pride, she doesn’t have any better argument than “I think I am.”

Unexpectedly, Murphy pipes up. “Hey, dipshit, she’s bi, that means she can go to Pride. What’s the holdup?”

“And whybare you going, Murphy?” Taylor shoots back. “I still don’t know why you’re here in the first place.”

“You don’t get to vet people’s sexual orientations,” Clarke says. “We all heard Pride isn’t for allies, so anyone signing up is queer. Like me.”

“I’m asexual,” Murphy says. “Is that good enough for you? I’m genuinely curious,” he adds. “If you think bi girls with boyfriends don’t belong, I’m guessing you’re not real big on letters that don’t even make the main acronym.”

Taylor’s jaw works. “Obviously, if you think you should come, I can’t stop you, I just think you should consider that it’s not entirely appropriate for–”

“You know what? Fine. I’m not coming with you.” Clarke grabs a sharpie from the bucket on the desk, crossing her name out so hard it’s probably going to bleed through to the table. “But I’ll see you there. Because I belong there.”

She’s out of the classroom before she realizes Murphy followed her.

“If I stayed there I was just going to have to talk to Taylor,” he says, with a small shrug. “Didn’t seem worth it.”

Clarke smiles with half her mouth. “Yeah, I guess not. You want a ride to Pride?”

“If you’re driving, yeah.”

And just like that, they’re friends.

*

Junior year, motivated primarily by spite and a mutual dislike of Taylor, Clarke and Murphy start a Queer Student Union, open to everyone who identifies as queer. To Clarke’s surprise, Murphy not only cares about LGBT issues, he’s actually shockingly informed about them. He identifies as biromantic asexual, although he admits the biromantic part feels a lot more theoretical than the asexual part, mostly because he has yet to meet anyone he likes enough he wants to be romantic with them. But he’s theoretically open to it. He’s done a lot of reading on not only sexuality stuff, but feminism and general activism, mostly because he seems interested in it. Academically, he’s not the greatest, but he’s intellectually curious, likes learning when he’s engaged.

When Finn cheats on her a few months later, he eggs Finn’s car, which is one of those things that Clarke would never approve of and would have told him not to do if he asked, but since he didn’t and she had no idea until several days after it happened, she doesn’t have to even pretend to not be happy.

It feels like the kind of relationship that might not survive college, but they both end up in Boston. Clarke’s at Harvard because she’s that over-achieving legacy kid, and Murphy goes to UMass because Clarke pointed out he could actually get a BA in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies while still avoiding the classes he hates, which is his ideal learning environment.

It turns out he’s a good litmus test for her pretentious Harvard friends, less because he’s a good judge of character and more because it’s useful to see how other people react to him. Clarke doesn’t really care if they like Murphy–Murphy doesn’t care about being liked much–but how and why they dislike him and how they deal with it tends to give her some good insight into whether or not they’re worth befriending. She and Lexa break up in part because Murphy and Lexa never figure out how to coexist, while Murphy and Niylah’s weird friendship is part of why Clarke starts hooking up with her.

“He’s like all the parts of you that you want to pretend you don’t have,” Niylah observes one night, and Clarke frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re supposed to be–The perfect princess. Rich, straight A’s, top of your class at Harvard. And then there’s Murphy, your excuse for not liking people. The scapegoat for all your worst instincts.”

“You have a very weird idea of what makes good pillow talk,” Clarke teases.

“I just think it’s interesting. Have you ever heard the term morality pet?”

“No, psych major.”

Niylah doesn’t bother responding to that. “It’s a concept in fiction. You’ve got a bad character you need to humanize, so they have a morality pet, the sympathetic character that they actually treat well, the one who’s there to make you think the villain isn’t all bad. Murphy’s your immorality pet. He’s the asshole you like because part of you is an asshole too.”

“I can’t believe this is what you think about right after sex.”

Niylah grins, rolls over for a kiss. “I just think it’s an interesting dynamic. The two of you simultaneously make each other better and worse people.”

“That sounds about right,” Clarke agrees, and tugs her closer, ending the talking for a while.

She and Niylah never get quite to being in a relationship, so when they graduate, they don’t break up so much as move apart. Niylah goes back to California, and Clarke stays in Boston in a cheap two-bedroom apartment with Murphy.

Sometimes, she thinks about what her ninth-grade self would think about her life: openly and comfortably bisexual, working in a museum instead of going to med school, living with John Murphy. Even her post-college self has trouble believing it’s real. But it’s good.

After six months of largely successful cohabitation when Murphy comes home late on a Saturday night with a giant bottle of flavored vodka and says, “We need to get drunk.”

Clarke never needs to be asked to drink shitty liquor twice. “Okay.”

Murphy roots around the fridge, frowning when all he finds is Coke and green powerade. “I thought we had lemonade.”

“Nope.”

“Well, this is going to taste shitty with the mixers we’ve got,” he says, frowning at the vodka, which is apparently raspberry flavored.

Clarke grabs the Coke. “If we drink the first one fast enough we won’t taste the second one.”

“Cheers to that,” says Murphy, and pours one generous slosh of booze into his world’s okayest sister mug and another into Clarke’s novelty Pikachu glass.

They’re adults.

After a glass and a half of raspberry-Coke vodka, Clarke asks, “Why are we getting drunk?”

“You need a reason?”

“I don’t, but it was your idea. What happened?”

Murphy makes a face, then drains his drink. “I think I’ve got a crush on a girl.”

It shouldn’t be unthinkable; romantic interest has always been a theoretical possibility for Murphy. He’s always said he could like someone, but Clarke sort of assumed he wouldn’t. It was just hard to imagine what Murphy with a crush would look like, and even harder to imagine Murphy’s type. What does he even like, in a person?

She wants to ask about a thousand questions, but she knows better. Murphy would just shut down. So instead she grabs the vodka, pours him more, and tops it off with what’s left of the Coke. “What girl?”

“She works at the pawn shop.”

John Murphy is probably the only person she knows who, in 2018, not only goes to a pawn shop, but goes to a pawn shop regularly enough to have developed feelings for someone who works there. It’s just so painfully Murphy.

“Is she just being polite to you because you’re a customer?”

He snorts. “She’s not polite to me. She’s an asshole. I keep trying to bring in stuff to sell and she tells me to get better shit.”

“That sounds about right, yeah.”

“So what do I do?”

“Can you just ask her if she wants to get a drink sometime?”

He pulls a face. “Pass.”

“Can you figure out a way to see her outside of the pawn shop without actually asking her?”

“I think she’s in a band.”

“So you got me drunk to agree to go to your crush’s concert with you? I’d do that anyway.”

“Isn’t that weird? Like–going to her concert?”

“How do you know she has a band?”

“She told me.”

“And the concert?”

“There’s a flyer by the register.”

“Did she ever mention it?”

“I asked her what it was and she said it was her band and they were decent.”

“So that seems like a pretty normal way to express interest in someone. You can just say you were curious or bored or whatever.”

“And you’re coming?”

“I’m coming.”

“Cool.” He groans and flops onto his back. “This already sucks.”

Clarke pats his shoulder. “You get used to it.”

*

Murphy’s crush’s name is Emori and she plays drums in a band called “Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space,’” which seems like a lot of name for one band, but Murphy tells her it’s an X-Files reference, so at least it makes some sense. There are four of them, two other women on bass and guitar, and the lead singer, a guy with messy black hair and sharp black eyeliner who looks too pretty to be a real person. He’s got a decent voice too, deep and kind of rough, an unvarnished kind of sound that Clarke feels down to her toes.

“Do you know any of the other ones?” she asks Murphy.

“Nope,” he says. “She was right, though, they’re not bad.”

“They aren’t.” She pulls her attention away from the lead singer to focus on Emori, taking her in. She’s cute, with a big face tattoo that must have hurt like hell to get, and long brown hair pulled away from her face by a red bandanna. She’s wearing a black tank top that leaves her shoulders bare, showing off more ink that clearly continues under the fabric.

She’s not who she would have pictured for Murphy, but she also doesn’t know who she would have pictured. She’s always thought Murphy’s type was more about personality than appearance.

Jose Chung’s “From Outer Space” are the first of three no-name local bands in the set, and Murphy, being the disaster that he is, wants to just leaveas soon they’re off the stage. But Clarke sees the lead singer making his way to the bar, so she makes a quick decision.

“I’m going to go make friends with the rest of the band,” she says. “If you want to run away, you can go, but you’re own your own.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, but she hears some spluttered protests that let her know he is following her, and bites back on her smile. It’s definitely a little bit selfish, but only a little; Murphy did ask for her help. Sort of.

There’s just enough free space next to the singer for Clarke to wedge herself in, and the guy glances over, mildly curious, but doesn’t say anything. She checks around for Murphy, finds he’s hanging back, and leans in to murmur, “Sorry, I’m trying to force my friend to flirt with your drummer.”

The guy’s eyebrows go up. This close, he’s even prettier, tan skin dotted with freckles, a small scar placed perfectly to bring attention to his lips, the eyeliner the icing on the cake. “I’m not sure how this is helping your friend flirt with my drummer,” he replies, just as low.

“If I’m here, he can’t talk to me.”

“My drummer eats guys alive.”

“I think he’s into that. That seems to be his type.”

“Huh.”

Clarke flags down the bartender and orders a beer. “You guys are really good,” she offers.

“Thanks.”

Okay, so, he’s hot, but aloof, and a little too full of himself, if Clarke is honest. The band is really good, but they’re playing a small venue in Cambridge. They’re not big enough that he should be above talking to people, so it’s probably just a personality trait.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asks, not looking at her.

“Murphy.”

“He probably doesn’t have a chance.”

Clarke shrugs. “I’ll be proud of him if he just gives it a try.”

“Low standards, huh?” says the guy.

“He doesn’t get out much.”

“So, how long do I have to stay here for this?”

Clarke blinks. “Sorry?”

“You’re hitting on me. How long do I have to stay?”

“I didn’t know you were in a big hurry to be gone. I assumed you were at the bar because you wanted a drink. But I can go hit on someone else. Is your bass player into women?”

That perks him up, because he’s apparently the kind of asshole who thinks girl-on-girl is hot. “Possibly, but she’s got a boyfriend right now. Sorry.”

Clarke cracks her neck as an excuse to look around. Murphy is talking to Emori and she’s smiling, which means Clarke’s work here is done and she can leave the surly asshole alone. It’s always a shame when a hot boy in eyeliner lets her down, but she’ll live. “Oh well. Murphy’s set, so you should have a good rest of the night.”

He looks a little surprised. “Oh, uh, yeah. You too.”

Clarke raises her glass in salute and slides away from him, moving down the bar to a less crowded spot. She doesn’t let herself look back to see if he’s watching her, but she does let herself hope.

It would serve him right.

*

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Murphy doesn’t come up with a better way to flirt with Emori than going to her shows, which means that Clarke is also going to her shows, to be a supportive friend, and getting to know Emori and by extension the rest of the band.

Emori, at least, she likes. She’s quick and funny and takes no shit, which is perfect for Murphy, and despite what the surly singer said, she does seem kind of fond of him. It’s hard to get a great read on her, but she keeps coming to talk to Murphy, and Clarke doesn’t think she’s the type to talk to people unless she actually wants to. Their whole relationship seems to be based on talking shit, but that’s got to be Murphy’s type.

Raven and Echo–the bass and guitar players, respectively–are cool too, easy for Clarke to hang out with while Murphy’s busy with Emori. She likes them all, really. It’s not a hardship.

Except that there’s Bellamy, too.

She does want to like Bellamy, but she can’t get over thinking he’s just kind of an asshole. He’s never really as aloof as he was that first night again, seems to warm up once he’s realized that Emori doesn’t seem to be planning to kick Murphy’s ass, but he’s still kind of cold. And part of her can’t help feeling like she should get over it, that it’s unfair of her to hold a grudge for one night, but she just can’t figure out how to get along with Bellamy.

She does try, but from what she can tell, he doesn’t. She asks him about the band and he deflects, talking about how they’re not really that good, it’s just a hobby. She asks what his real job is and he makes a face, says it’s boring. It’s not as if every conversation is like that, but she always feels like he’s not that interested in the conversation, like he’s waiting for her to just stop talking to him.

“So stop talking to him,” Murphy says, with a shrug. “Who cares?”

“Do you like him?”

“I guess. It’s not like I’m making him a friendship bracelet or anything. Does it matter?”

“You’re my barometer, remember?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You want to date Bellamy?”

“No!” she says, but it’s too late. Murphy’s running with it.

“I guess he’s probably kind of hot? Not my type, but makes sense for you. And you’re pissed because he’s not interested.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this is news.” It seems like a safer tactic than arguing. “I told you I tried to flirt with him the first day, it obviously didn’t work.”

“Yeah, but you’re still pissed,” he says. “So you’re still into him.”

“I want him to be into me.” If she can’t tell Murphy these things, what good is he? “I don’t get why he’s not.”

“Okay, but if you’re not into him, who cares? He doesn’t like you, you don’t like him, no harm, no foul, right? Way better than the alternative.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. He should like me. At least as a person.”

“I think he’d be good for you.”

That actually does surprise her; she’s not sure he’s ever offered an unsolicited opinion on whether or not she should date someone.

“You do?”

“Yeah, probably. He’s a pretty decent guy and we have fun hanging out. Doesn’t take my shit and gives as good as he gets.”

“But he’s not into me, so I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.”

“Because you wanted to talk about him. You started it.”

“I was complaining.”

“You complain about him a lot.” Murphy groans. “Look, like him, don’t like him, I don’t give a shit. But if you don’t like him, stop caring what he thinks, stop talking to him, and let it go.”

It’s exactly what she should be doing; she flops onto his stomach with a groan of her own. “I hate you she says.”

“Yeah, I know.”

*

“So, I owe you an apology.”

It’s a week after her conversation with Murphy and Clarke has admitted, at least privately, that she still wants to make out with Bellamy and still might kind of like Bellamy, despite all logic and reason.

And now he’s smiling at her, nervous and casual in a t-shirt and glasses at Raven’s game night, and she has no idea what’s happening.

“You do?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you’re talking about and we can go from there? Because I’m kind of lost.”

He clears his throat. “So, uh–I didn’t know Murphy’s name was John.”

“And you’re apologizing to me for that?”

“The first night we met you said your friend was flirting with Emori, and I knew she liked this customer of hers named John, so I thought you were distracting me so some asshole she didn’t like could slobber all over her. So I was annoyed.”

“And you only just realized Murphy was her customer crush?” she asks, stuck between amusement and disbelief. “It’s been months!”

“I know! I thought he just got lucky and she liked him, but then she said John was coming tonight and I said I hadn’t met him and the rest of the band made fun of me for like an hour.”

“It kind of sounds like you deserved it.”

He ducks his head, smiling sheepishly, and Clarke smiles too. “Anyway, I feel like–I never knew how to explain without telling you I thought Emori was into someone else. And I still kind of thought you were a dick for trying to distract me with your feminine wiles.”

“I was joking!”

He laughs. “Yeah, uh–anyway. Sorry?”

“You don’t really have to apologize for that,” she says. “It’s not like you were–you’re pretty polite mostly. I thought you had a bad night. And didn’t like me much.”

“Yeah. But I want us to do better, so–can we start over?”

It’s strange, because part of Clarke feels like they never actually started. Like this is actually going to be their first try.

Which makes it easy. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It should fix all her problems, or at least all the problems she’s admitting she has, but less than two weeks later she slams a bag into the island and says, “I bought vanilla vodka and orange juice and I want it to taste like a creamsicle.”

“Won’t work but okay,” says Murphy. “What did Bellamy do?”

“Who says it’s about Bellamy?”

“Can we skip the bullshit and you just tell me?”

Clarke considers. “Drink first.”

They make it through the first round and then Clarke says, “He likes me now.”

“And you hate him?”

“No, I still want to make out with him.” She sighs. “You were right, I’m totally into him, and now we’re getting along, and everything sucks. He’s really cute.”

Murphy takes another drink of his vanilla screwdriver. “So ask him to make out. At least you’re not trying to tell him you’re into him but not into sex and you’ve never actually dated anyone before. Why are you complaining?”

“Have you figured out a way to mention you’re ace yet?” she asks.

“Nope. It doesn’t really come up in conversation. No one’s like, how much does everyone love sex? They just assume the answer is a lot and don’t bother asking.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Keep complaining about your thing, that helps.”

She flops onto her back. “He’s just so pretty.”

Murphy pats her leg. “Yeah, that sucks.”

*

Murphy’s problem seems easier to solve than hers, especially in early May. Clarke gives it a week and then, when they’re out drinking with the whole band, asks, “Oh, is anyone going to Pride? Do you guys need a ride?”

“You’re going to Pride?” Echo asks.

“She’s bi,” Bellamy says, even though Clarke’s never told him that. “Or pan?” he adds, glancing at her for approval.

“I usually go with bi, but as long as it covers no gender preference I’m good.”

“I’m biromantic asexual,” says Murphy. Clarke didn’t warn him, but he’s pretty quick with this stuff.

“We always go to Pride because that’s how we got to be friends. Some asshole in our high-school GSA told us neither of us belonged there because we weren’t queer enough.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Bellamy. “Well, I could use a ride.”

Clarke will admit to startling, just a little. She didn’t really think anyone in the band was queer, had just wanted to give Murphy an excuse to share his sexuality. It was always possible she’d get a taker, but it hasn’t seemed likely.

But Bellamy wants to join them. If he’s gay, that kind of sucks, at least for her. But he’s bi or trans–into women at all and queer, basically–he might be her dream guy.

“I know it’s shitty to ask why people want to go to Pride, but I still want to know,” Murphy says.

“Also bi,” says Bellamy, so, yeah. Clarke wants to marry him. “I’ve never actually been to Boston Pride, though. I don’t like going alone.”

“Then you should definitely come with us,” says Clarke, and he gives her one of his melting smiles.

“Thanks.”

“Can I come along as a supportive outsider who would happily make out with a girl if the opportunity presented itself?” Emori asks.

“Definitely,” says Murphy. “Just don’t talk about ally pride or whatever and we’re good. And kiss a girl if you can, I hear it’s cool.”

Echo’s interested to learn that he’s never kissed a girl, and she and Emori and Raven get drawn into that conversation, leaving Clarke and Bellamy off on their own.

“So, that first day we met,” she says.

Bellamy cocks his head. “What about it?”

“I asked if anyone else in the band liked girls and you kind of–” She shrugs. “I thought you were one of those guys who thinks girls kissing is hot and for your benefit. But you were excited I was queer.”

He laughs. “Shit, I didn’t know you noticed. But yeah, I always like meeting more bisexuals. I was rethinking you.”

“Where did you end up?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiles. “You rethought me, so–what did you end up thinking of me?”

He bites the corner of his mouth, glances over at his band mates. They’re not paying attention that Clarke can tell, but she knows Murphy still has part of his focus on the two of them. The rest of the band probably does too. That’s the kind of group dynamic they have going.

Bellamy must be thinking the same thing. “You want to get another round?” he asks.

“Maybe at another bar.”

He laughs again, this bright, pleased laugh, at odds with his rock-star makeup. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Outside, he says, “I thought I should have picked you up when I had the chance. I was kicking myself for–I’m still kicking myself for not flirting back.”

Her own smile creeps up, starting small but never stopping growing. “You still could.”

“We could just get a drink at my place.”

“I’d love to.”

*

“How much do you think Taylor Macdonald would hate us going on a double date to Pride with our straight-passing partners?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy pauses in his application of glitter to Murphy. Apparently he’s as good as makeup as he is because he taught his sister how to do hers, which works out really well. Clarke sucks at makeup; it’s nice that they have complementary skill sets.

“Straight passing?” he asks, dubious.

“His words.”

“Dick.”

Murphy grins. “I figure if I’m pissing off Taylor Macdonald, I’m doing something right. I hope every time I’m happy, he feels like someone walked over his grave.”

Clarke offers her hand and he high-fives her; Emori smiles. “I’m starting to see why the two of you are such good friends. It didn’t quite add up before.”

“Spite and stubbornness,” says Clarke.

“Our main motivations in life.”

“Exactly,” says Emori. “It makes perfect sense.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bellamy teases, but Clarke just smiles.

“Whatever. We’ve got it all figured out.”

#idleafterthoughts

[the-nysh]

I find myself unable to think of Bakugou in any way more positive than "dislike", because he reminds me too much of the people who made my life miserable when I was growing up. (Not that it makes him bad; it's just my emotions.) Do you've any advice on how to bend my mind around that? I don't need to LOVE him, just mentally separate "him" and "the people who make grade school suck for me" so I won't irrationally hate him, because I don't LIKE hating characters.

Hi there! I’m glad to see you come forward, especially tosomeone who’s a big fan of him, after happening to see how far you’veventured through my tags already (whoa dedication!) to seek possible answers or further clarity about this,especially if it’s something that’s still bothering you, oraffecting/preventing you from fully enjoying the series. Because of that, I cantell how serious and genuine you feel about this, so I will take this seriouslyas well. 

(Below, 1800+ words)

Another thing is that it’s okay to feel this way, your personal experiences are still valid,and there’s no obligation to force your feelings otherwise, or subject yourselfto content that may be uncomfortable for you. Please continue to take all theprecautions needed (blocking/blacklisting) for an enjoyable and productivefandom experience. But understanding that even if the characters may havecoincidental similarities to our pasts, they are not direct projections of us, the people in our lives, or our realities.Their world is not ours. So this awareness is another good step to have, tobegin seeing the story (and characters) more openly, objectively and closer tohow Hori originally intended.

Since you’re willing to learn more, and as you may have already seenfrom my content here, Bakugou (Kacchan)became my definitive fav character of the series, but not for thoselingering resentments mentioned. The compelling character I see is so much morebeyond that first ch’s established baseline, which was narratively placed and designedto contrast against who he becomes later on. As a means to gauge and appreciatehis growth and the journey of how far he’s changed into becoming a proper,well-rounded, better person and inspirationalhero. The kind of emotional narrativefocus that always gains my interest and priority to see develop. Already, theperson he is now at 215+ chs is not the same as who he was at ch1 (neither ishe the flanderized, fanon stereotype many have been misled or indoctrinated tofirmly believe he is), and he will keepon developing as the story marches on. I am fully on board to witness thathappen. 

The challenge now, is not letting his initial baseline impression(or the feelings from your own separate –but equally valid– experiences, oreven the vitriol from others) stain or cloud that entire slow-burn progressionof the story going forward. Otherwise the important milestones and insightsinto his character that Hori leaves along the way (which can sometimes bedifficult to see from Deku’s limited pov) end up getting obscured, ignored, oroutright rejected from an internalized feeling of ‘hatred’ that tends to blockout anything newly introduced that would challenge that preconceived perceptionof him. However, to mentally reject such change and prevent the valuedimprovement of a growing person (a learning child in his formative years, forinstance), to otherwise keep the status quo static and unmoving, to permanentlystay rooted exactly the same way as thestart…would in fact be a much more toxic/harmful mindset to have, and actuallydefeats the purpose of telling a proper story as well. 

Setbacks to that challenge unfortunately include thewidespread availability of biased mistranslations (even from official sources),poor/oversimplified characterizations from non-canon content(movies/novels/merch, etc) that’s not written directly by Hori, because all thesethings just reinforce and exacerbate the problem of inflating fanon stereotypesand those preconceived notions that people have already solidified in theirminds as true (when they often aren’t). It gets even worse, and ironicallyhypocritical, when those same people start feeling justified they can go out oftheir way to attack others (includingthe author) for how to ‘properly’ enjoy and interpret the series (for beingdifferent or ‘incorrect’ from the perceptions they believe to be right). Butwhat’s happened is they’ve begun to blindly act on feelings multiple levels sofar removed from what actually is (whatexists as presented within canon, vs what they believe in fanon, vs what exists separately that may beplaguing these people’s real lives), that by then, that kind of maladjustedsocial behavior is inexcusable. Stepping back and realizing when things start crossinglines irrationally out of hand, to prevent that kind of behavior from happeningin the first place, (and again, by taking measures to block/blacklist stuff thataggravates or makes you feel uncomfortable), is the much wiser approach toparticipating and enjoying fandom. So that no matter what happens or what otherssay, they can’t impact or ruin what you love about the series.

Which in my case, includes Kacchan’s character. Basedon what Hori has consistently presented in canon, I can conclude and freely admithe’s the only character I can fully trust. Amazing, right? Because he hasabsolutely nothing to hide. Everything he does (not through his harshwords/temperament, but through his genuine actions),is extremely forthright and honest. He does not half-ass things or hide anyother ulterior motives or malicious intent beyond his dedication to become the best hero. And he takes that goal very seriously. Striving for and expectingexcellence from himself (and all themental pressure that self-imposed perfectionism brings) and others. Currently in the manga that includes Deku now too, whomhe willingly goads (showing support in his own way) and checks in on for hisprogress too.

Remember his fights in the sports tournament, how he takesall challengers with equal commitment/opportunity (gender does not matter),provided they give him their best inturn as well, because to do otherwise –to go easy on them or hold back– wouldbe disrespectful and underestimating an opponent. There’s a very just and admirablehonor in that. Remember how he can’tstand anyone looking down on him, which includes how he misinterpreted Deku’sfeelings of admiration for disdain(he could not accurately read Deku’s intentions, and became so perplexed by himthat he assumed the worst: that Deku looked down on him instead). Considering the level of seriousness and effort he alwaysputs forth, to be confronted with the opposite would be personally insulting.

Remember when the villains invited him to join their ranks(because they misread and shallowly judged his character), he stuck to his idealsand outright refused their offer.(Boldly exploding villains in the face~) Risking death over playing it safe andlying to pretend to follow along totheir whims. (How brave and badass is that?!) Kacchan does not lie, cheat theeasy way out, or do things he’s not feeling or doesn’t agree with. Again, honesty. Becoming a villain, a traitor,or betraying those who’ve earned his trust? Absolutely no chance. Afterlearning AM’s secret and finally understanding/rectifying everything that didn’tadd up about Deku, would he go behind their backs by breaking promises? No way.Again, most trustworthy character. 

Rereading the story a second time over, but from his perspective, practically doubled myappreciation and enjoyment of the series. Thinking about how the foundations oftheir society impacted his world views at such a young age, to the very betrayal he must have felt thinking achildhood friend lied to him aboutsomething as important/vital as a quirk. (And if we already know how he feelsabout cheating liars…hmm, faithful loyaltynow feels like a valued trait.) Other factors include his relatable giftedchild syndrome, all the complexes born from that, and for how extremely intelligent,competent, and much more calmly calculating he is than his short temper may lead one to believe. How he was oncea ‘big fish in a small pond’, now thrust into the ocean to compete among evenother bigger fish, with the pressure to both succeed and prove himself…all whilehis previous world views are checked and challenged every step of the way.

For years he’d been valued and praised for only the promisingpotential and primary trait of his strong quirk. (The reinforcement for his badbehavior on the other hand? Not valued with the same proper attention.) Alreadythat’s an unfortunate consequence of their quirk-filled, hero-commodified society. Think of justhow shallow/fake groupies would be, or how annoying and hollow it would feel tohave people cling to him just for that (for talent and skills over his meritsas a person), and just how difficult forming genuine, natural bonds would be… (Becomingself-reliant now becomes another added pressure he has to juggle on his own.) Beforequirks had ever entered the picture and complicated things further, Deku was probablyconsidered the closest friend he had. Until…misunderstandings happened, andthen the only thing he wanted was for Deku to stay away from him. (A misconception is that Kacchan actively soughtDeku out, when it’s actually the opposite: Kacchan only reacted if Dekuencroached on him too closely.) Because he feared how Deku made him feel,forcing him to face his own shortcomings, and address perceptions of reality hedid not want to face. Because for someone he perceived as the weakest, to boldly goagainst that and do what Deku did (help him out of concern/kindness, but thatintent only read as pitying to him),made him feel even below that. And what’slower than the low of the weakest/most useless? Pretty ouch, so stop followingand stay back. Yet Deku just kept on coming back no matter what, for reasons hecouldn’t yet understand. (Deku felt genuine care and admiration for him, whichKacchan hadn’t realized, so gah, dramatic irony.) His changing feelings, correctinghis attitude, and clarifying his relationship to Deku, who continually challengesand defies his very worldview and perception of weakness, brings a whole otherfascinating draw to the series, which would take a whole other essay to fully analyze(but which many other fans have thoroughly done so already). 

Further considerations include his struggles facing other relatablefeelings. How he confronts the pain and weight of experiencing loss, survivor’sguilt, and assessing powerlessness and the inability to save situations beyondhis control. Internalizing self-doubt, hatred, failure, and inferiority…because‘if only he were stronger.’ What Isee is a child overburdened by expectations and responsibilities beyond hisyears…who has to learn to process and overcome many of those same feelings I’vealready gone through and had to come to terms with growing up. (The very reasonhe’s often and endearingly referred to as a ‘son.’) The majority of adults inhis life assumed he was already ‘strong enough’ and ‘fine’ on his own, theyneglected to give him proper mental guidance going forward (AM even admitsthis). And we unfortunately see the tragic consequences of that. But fortunately,things are getting better, and Hori’s story for him still isn’t over yet.   

Overall, what I see is the chance for an excellent,multi-layered, and well-written character to become even better. And that’s why his narrative is so particularly engaging. Doeshe remind me of the kids that once made certain social aspects of grade schoolinsufferable? No, because that’s not who he is; he’s so far removed and beyond them, that they’ve become extras whono longer matter anymore. Instead of lingering on such negatives, it’s insteadthe positive aspects about him that shine through even stronger. The fact heisn’t perfect, but deeply flawed and learning to address his shortcomings in nowmore productive ways. This progression and growth makes him interesting, and combinedwith the many other traits I’ve mentioned above, favored and loved bymany. Although ultimately I can’t change your opinion about him (that’s stillup to you to decide, and it’s ok to still dislike characters), hopefully I’veintroduced new ways of perceiving and appreciating his character for you. Tohelp see some of the positives that Deku always valued in him as a drivingsource of inspiration too: to strive hard despite life’s setbacks, and win. ‘He may be a jerk, but he’s amazing.’

#pomrania #replies #bnha #kacchan #meta #manga spoilers #long post #speaking from the perspective of him as my fav #hopefully this sheds some new light #(and i think i covered everything i wanted to say) #this is also why i mentioned before that the message of mp100’s mogami arc is important #and what i mean when i say minori’s ‘imcomparable levels of cruelty’ #because kacchan is definitely not that #but the ability to change; grow; and forgive even the worst of who people used to be #is multitudes more valuable; stronger; and daresay heroic #than regressing into a hateful vestige of a non-functioning human like mogami #that kind of message still rings true here #the fact deku still cares despite seeing the worst from him is testament to how genuine his feelings are for him too #so instead of focusing on the worst...here i explain those cherished positives too

[thethaumaturgeworld]

Jude’s Last Strike (The Thaumaturge World Teaser)

The fire wasn’t exactly the worst part of Jude’s week, but it came as a close second.

On the bright side, Jude now understood the universal law of returning books to the school library on time. Because that’s how this whole mess started. A library book.

Jude was a thirteen-year-old student at Havendale Primary. Upon first meeting Jude, you couldn’t tell that he was a troublemaker because he seemed like such an average teen. Bright brown eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and freckles, nothing out of the ordinary. He was smaller than most kids his age, which was an advantage when hiding from teachers, policemen and disgruntled neighbours out for revenge.

His Dad often turned to Jude’s Uncle Aaron, telling him he was a bad influence. Aaron would just laugh it off, of course. But there could’ve been some corruption there. Aaron had told them many stories of the dumb things he did in his younger life. Pranks he used to pull, things that he thought was smart at the time but later discovered could’ve killed him. The real rebel inspiration, however, belonged to Jude’s late grandfather.

William died three years prior, coincidentally a month before Jude’s rebellious attitude had spiked. Nobody is sure of the cause of his death, but Jude knew something that nobody else had. He still couldn’t quite explain it. When he had reached his grandfather’s house a few blocks away and saw the ambulance, he’d have sworn he had seen something scuttle across the road.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then he thought it might have been a bearded dragon. Upon closer inspection, that theory was squashed. The creature had scales that were dark cream in colour. A lamp like object on its head similar to an angler fish. Jude only saw it for a second before it disappeared into the bushes. It was real, and it had come from the house in which William Blake was found dead.

The real story began on a Monday, as a class of seventh graders left their classrooms for break time.

Jude was pretty tired after a whole day of boring lectures from different teachers. He knew a fair share of the topics discussed in class; he just didn’t care enough today to listen to the things he didn’t know. Before he made it around the corner to get to the staircase, he felt a hand grab his arm.

“Hey! wait for me!” Henry Jones said with exasperation, “I was caught at the back of the row, and you sped off like a runaway car. Are you trying to avoid me?” He smirked at him at the last sentence.

“I am not avoiding you,” Jude rolled his eyes at the other boy, “I forgot.”

“Your own friend?” Henry placed a hand over his heart, “I am wounded.”

Jude snorted in laughter, “Don’t expect an apology any time soon.”

Henry pouted but then just shook his head, looking up the staircase, “We have… history after this?”

“Ms Jacobus? Correct,” Jude replied.

They headed up the stairs, into the mostly empty hallway. Henry placed his backpack in the row in front of the classroom. Most students were making their way back so they could join the rest of the school on the field, chattering amongst each other. Jude placed his own backpack next to his friend’s.

That’s when he noticed Henry’s eyes following his every move. He looked at him, confused.

“What are you looking at? Does my face resemble a steak?” Jude asked.

He shrugged in response, “Just wondering what you’ve got up your sleeve for today. Any plans?”

Oh. Right. Reputation.

“I thought I should tone down on the surprises today,” Jude explained, “So my sleeves are all empty.”

“Hey, Blake!” He heard behind him. He knew who it was before he turned around. Amy was making her way toward them, her school monitor badge set blinking on her white shirt collar, mocking him.

“Anything you want?” Jude asked.

“Yeah,” Amy said slowly, “The library book? Do you have it with you? Karla’s been stressing about it all morning. It’s two days late, you’re gonna have to pay.”

Jude tried to avoid looking at Henry, “Library book? The ghost story one?”

Amy crossed her arms, “Unless you have other books that are past due, yes the ghost story one? Please return it today… okay? Give us all peace of mind so Karla won’t have another anxiety attack.”

Jude flashed a thumbs up, “It’s in my backpack.”

Amy smirked as she looked over Jude’s shoulder at Henry, “Good, and good luck.”

She turned around and swiftly walked away. Jude turned toward Henry, who was positively glaring at him. Jude shrugged, grinning. “Whoops?” He said.

Henry groaned, “Why!? You told me you returned it!”

“I forgot,” Jude responded, already rifling through his backpack to look for it.

“I asked you if you gave it back and you said yes!” Henry stuck his hand in his dark brown hair, much like Jude’s father would do if he was frustrated. He sighed, “You have it here, though? Right?”

“I’m looking! I’m looking!” Jude said, “Hold your horses!”

“I cannot be stable! You know that!”

“Ah yes; Henry Jones, my dear unstable friend.” He rifled through his books until his hand closed around the library book. He smiled and showed it to Henry, “We’re in luck.”

Henry sighed in relief “Great,” He said, “Let’s go return it.”

They reached the bottom floor where kids from grades one to seven were already on the field. Jude could see a few familiar faces; Abu and Hansie were playing ball closeby. The ball almost hit Imka. The girl turned around and started to shout at them. All good fun.

They finally arrived at the school library.

When they entered, the line at the front desk was long, and Jude almost decided to turn back. Karma, art thou a heartless snitch.

“I’m gonna return this,” Jude said “You can look around. Looks like I’m gonna be a while.”

Henry nodded “Yeah, I’ll be over at the Comic Book section.”

Henry left for the comic books and left Jude standing in line alone. He tapped the book against his leg as he waited. The line shortened way too slowly. He really didn’t want to wait this long and waste his break.

He was considering ditching the library and come back during the second break when the librarian called ‘Next!’ and realised he was the next one. He stepped forward and placed the book on the table. He was just going to turn away when Mrs Botha grabbed his wrist. He sighed. Of course. He turned to face her. She let go of his wrist slowly, peering at him over her golden spectacles.

“It’s late,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, it is,” Jude admitted, “Would you also be interested in knowing the colour of the sky?”

She sneered at him, “Five Rand Mr Blake.”

“Fine,” Jude sighed, “I’ll bring it tomorrow. Can I be excused so I can enjoy what is left of my break, or will you prefer to keep me in your clutches?”

Mrs Botha’s glare hardened. “Go,” She hissed.

Jude left as fast as he could and looked for Henry. He walked passed the kiddies’ section, avoiding Karla as she organised some books. He saw the Comic Book section up ahead. All of a sudden, a strange feeling overcame him. He saw something scaly move in the corner of his eye. He turned around. A strange creature was making its way around a bookcase and right towards the Computer Lab.

Jude’s eyes widened when he recognised it. Now that he was closer, he could easily make out the bat-like ears and large, yellow eyes. This one was a lighter colour than the one from three years ago, though, but looked to be the same species. A part of Jude wanted to turn around and pretend it never happened.

Alas, he followed it like an idiot.

He supposed a part of him hoped that by following, he’d find an answer to what had happened to his grandfather. Finally, there would be no more ‘maybes’. This creature could hold the answer, and he needed answers.

Jude saw as the creature zipped into the Computer Lab and with little hesitation, Jude followed. He cautiously observed the room. Old school computers were lined on the tables with cables and mouse pads. The blinds over the windows were closed, and everything looked normal. There was no sign of the angler gecko.

He considered leaving. Little did he know that he was at a crossroad. The decision he made now, will directly impact the rest of his life.

He can get Henry and leave. Spend some time with him and finish this day’s school work. Pretend this never happened. But no… he couldn’t. This creature would keep coming back, and he’d just be forced into another encounter one day anyway. With that thought in mind, he proceeded forward into the room. He scanned the room carefully, a strange feeling crawling down the back of his neck.

His chest burned as he moved slowly into the place. Something was holding him back. He shakily bent down and checked under one of the tables. There was nothing. No sign of anything out of place.

The burning in his chest intensified, his ears buzzed. It felt as if the walls were closing in. He got off the floor and headed to the door before he could think. He looked back and saw nothing. Maybe he was going mad after all. He shook his head and left the computer lab, quickly making his way back to the library.

“What took you so long?” Henry asked, placing the comic back.

“The… the line was long,” Jude said, eyes darting to the computer lab. Was it just him or was there sound coming from there? No, he was just paranoid.

Nevertheless, he grabbed Henry by the elbow and dragged him out. Henry made sounds of protest but was shushed by one of the assistants. They exited the library, and Jude picked up his backpack.

“What was that all about?” Henry asked.

Jude nervously smoothed down his hair, “It’s nothing,” He said. He forced a smile as if to prove his point. He jerked his head toward the staircase “Let’s enjoy the rest of break while we still have time.”

They started to make their way down the hallway. What happened next took them entirely by surprise.

There was a loud booming sound from behind them followed by the sound of screams. Henry and Jude whipped around. Jude lost his voice. Bright red flames moved at an abnormally fast speed across the fabrics of the library curtains. The fire roared aggressively. The alarms blared to life around the school. The principal’s voice was heard in the distance.

“This is not a fire drill. Everyone must gather on the sports field immediately. Do not to panic, and proceed calmly.”

“What about Mrs Botha?” Henry asked “And Karla, Miranda, Chris-”

“I don’t think this is our place to interfere, Henry,” Jude said, “We should leave and go to the field.”

“But… Karla’s in there,” Henry said, “Chris is a first grader!”

“We don’t have any experience,” Jude replied “There’s no point. We’ll only die, Henry. We’ll be helping nobody.”

“You’re always prepared to take a risk,” Henry said. Jude was horrified to see his friend move toward the burning library.

Even though his entire being screamed to grab Henry and run, he knew there was no stopping his friend. It was one of the things that they shared along with freckles and being shorter than most of their classmates.

Jude followed Henry reluctantly into the burning library, cursing himself for doing so. When they were inside, Jude stared around. The fire crackled on the walls and, electronic sounds came from the lab.

The lab… Jude’s eyes found the door hidden behind a burning bookcase. He didn’t see the angler-gecko anywhere. Whether it made it out already or if it died in the explosion, Jude wasn’t about to find out. He saw something else move from the corner of his eye.

While leading the other kids toward the exit, Mrs Botha stumbled away from the bookcases, a small boy in her arms. That’s when she set her eyes upon Henry and Jude.

“Move!” She shouted “Move outside! Now!”

Jude didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Henry and pulled him along, Mrs Botha following soon. The boy in her arms coughed, eyes darting around the room as they made their way out of the library. When they got out, coughing and shaking, Jude took time to see if everyone made it out. To his immense relief, they did. Karla was standing there, looking frazzled.

There were cuts on all of them, but Mrs Botha definitely took the brunt of it. She had a bruise forming over her eye, spreading to her temple and her glasses were shattered and bent. It was then that Jude realised the way she was looking at him.

Her face seemed to be filled with hatred, her glare beyond murderous. Jude knew the only reason she hadn’t tossed him off the third floor yet was she was carrying a first grader.

But the message was clear. Jude Blake was her main suspect.

“All of you — follow me to the field at once,” She said, “Before there’s another explosion that kills us.”

“Kills us?” The first grader asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Mrs Botha assured him. They headed toward the staircases, Mrs Botha telling them to form a line. Jude was relieved when they finally arrived outside of the school building, heading for the field. Every Havendale student stood there for roll call. Principle Mollow had the list and was calling out names.

That’s when he noticed them. His face turned to shock and surprise “How in heaven’s name did you get out of there alive!?” He asked.

“Long story,” Mrs Botha said, gently putting down the young boy, who stood there, shaking. A fifth-grade girl that must’ve been his sister raced toward him.

“Did everyone get out?” Mollow asked.

Mrs Botha nodded. “Continue the roll call with the others, though.” She gave Jude another dirty look before limping over to the nurse, who had a paramedic kit ready.

That’s when he heard the sound of fire truck alarms blaring. A red truck was speeding towards the school, and the sirens that followed meant there were cops as well. He looked back at the building, thinking of the strange creature. He’d observed that thing a few times before, but this was the first time it caused havoc. Actually, there were a few creatures he had seen this past week.

He’d convinced himself that it wasn’t real, but it became more and more real as time went on. The ghoul he’d seen crossing the street last week Wednesday. It had saluted him and then disappeared into thin air, right in front of him. None of his schoolmates had seen it.

Then there was last Friday when something small, fluffy and round had stolen his favourite pen. He felt pretty confident that hamsters weren’t into taking stationery. He tried to ignore it. But he was starting to wonder… maybe ignoring it wasn’t the best decision?

#ttw #the thaumaturge world #jude #jude blake #henry jones #writeblr

[dcarevu]

Batman TAS: Feat of Clay (Part 1)

“Sweet dreams, slime ball”

Out of the three two-parters so far, the two best ones have involved a villain with the word “face” in their name. Maybe if Red Claw had been Claw Face, we would have gotten a better conclusion?

Episode: 20 Robin: No Writers: Michael Reaves (story), Marv Wolfman (story/teleplay) Director: Dick Sebast Animator: Akom Airdate: September 8, 1992 Grade: A

Now this is more like it! It’s like the writing process of Prophecy of Doom was someone taking the Renuyu cream and dumping it all over Batman TAS, turning it into a blob. But then for this one, Marv Wolfman and Michael Reaves took that blob and meticulously sculpted it back into something awesome. We’ve seen from Pretty Poison what Michael Reaves can do, and back when we covered that episode, I gave most of the credit to Paul Dini, due to him being the only name I recognized at the time. That is part of why I love doing this blog series. I am learning so much more about the series than I would otherwise! I’m learning about different members of the creative team, breathing new life into the DCAU for me. I swear, it’s like watching something I’ve never seen before sometimes! Looking through Michael Reave’s episode resumé, I’m seeing some very mixed results, and he’s very much responsible for a future episode that many people seriously pan. But he’s also done a handful of potential top 10 material. This shows me that back when tv show episodes were ordered in bulk, it gave a lot less room to throw out potential bummers. When a standard 13-episode season is ordered, you can overshoot a little bit easier and then streamline the selection. I can’t even imagine never producing a show before, and then being told that I gotta make over 60 installments for the first run. I think that being a great writer is only partially about writing awesome things. It’s also knowing what to get rid of and what to cut down. I don’t care who you are, you’re not going to have good ideas always, and your mindset can be in a weird place for one day out of seven, causing something you regret.

Most of what stood out to me for this one was the sheer intensity of it, and I think that stands true for Char as well. She mentioned that the fight was pretty violent in parts, that the origin of Clayface was enjoyably gruesome/messed up beyond belief, and that Batman’s interrogation moment was batshit insane! Going through these aspects one by one, we first have the fight scene. The one that happens right after the phony Bruce Wayne tries to kill Lucius Fox (happy first appearance, by the way). I love the way that Batman just punts Germs (one of Roland Daggett’s thugs who is ironically a germaphobe) across the room, into a switch. It makes me consider doing a post called “Top 10 DCAU Kicks” or something. And then right after that, Germs tries to shove Batman’s head between notches on some interconnecting, spinning gears.

The amount of times Batman comes so close to death during even little scenes like this against ordinary thugs… Like, I get that he’s Batman, and he’s awesome, and he’s not to be messed with, but I feel like he must be so settled into the mindset of “I could die any night”. I know I’ve talked in the past about Bruce having a hard time forming meaningful relationships sometimes, but this adds to that. It’s not just a matter of keeping a secret or physically exerting yourself so often. Being Batman is also about accepting the very real possibility of a gruesome death, no matter what you’ve got scheduled for the rest of the week.

Clayface’s origin is kind of a fight scene as well I guess, and it’s no less pulse-pounding. Roland Daggett mentions to his thugs that he wants them to get rid of Matt Hagen (who was on a magazine cover a couple episodes back), as he has “outlived his usefulness”. They know that he will come around the area, looking for more of that face cream, because it has made him an addict. And it’s not even a simple mental addiction, like how I am addicted to cereal (totally legit). It apparently has chemically addicting properties, and on top of that, Matt obviously has some huge self esteem issues. Not to say that I blame him. He does sorta have a face that only a mother could love.

He’s not just concerned with looking “attractive” for when he’s acting, though, he doesn’t want anyone to see him at all when the face cream wears off. He yells at his best friend, Teddy, to shut the door of his dressing area in a hurry so that no one catches a glimpse of what he looks like. It’s sad to see Matt and Teddy interacting the way they do. They’re supposed to be friends, but Matt has obviously let his situation get to his head, much like what can happen with drug addicts in the real world. And with Matt at probably the worst he’s ever been, Roland Daggett is nothing but a heartless monster. These crime bosses in this show piss me off! 

This is the second episode that we’ve had which has tackled the subject of drug addicting in a very respectable way. If we didn’t get the heaviness and great story with the drug elements, it would seem as preachy. But they use the idea of drug addiction as a plot element rather than revolving the plot around that. It helps make the story flow like Matt Hagen’s eventual skin. And speaking of that, to apparently kill Matt Hagen, what the thugs do when he arrives at the location they predict he will, they take a big container of the Renuyu face cream and dump it all over his body. I think. That’s what I always thought was happening, but it has come to my attention that maybe they were just aiming for directly into his mouth. That is honestly just despicable of them.

That silhouette has way more of a dramatic effect on me than just showing it would have. 

Injuring him in one of the nastiest ways possible (basically turning his body into liquid shit) with the very thing running his life, and ultimately destroying it. If Matt never found that face cream, he probably would have been alright. Maybe not a famous actor, but he could have gotten by. Probably found love. Not this way. At least, not for now. I’ll admit, I really couldn’t tell you if Matt Hagen was a decent person before getting into this mess, and I will talk a little bit more about that next time. But to say he deserved what he got? No way! And this is what makes him another oh-so-tragic rogue for the DCAU.

Okay, and then can we talk about that interrogation scene where Batman stabs the pointy ears of his Batwing through a thug’s car, rips the door off, and then grabs him by the wrist with this little robotic extendable arm, high above the rooftops of Gotham City?

Jesus Christ, Batman! I get that someone is impersonating you (and this time it was in purpose, not coincidental like with Man-Bat in episode 1), and that it may piss you off a little bit, but watch how you’re swooping, man! You’re gonna sever that guy’s wrist and turn him into pudding as he hits the concrete below! Ha, no, but in all seriousness, this scene was just awesome. Probably the most hardcore Batman has gotten yet when it comes to getting the answers that he wants. Even though the guy passed out before he could actually get them… And then I love how when the cops surround Batman (Gotta note their nonchalant reactions too…like, “Batman, c’mon, man, we’ve talked to you about this!”), he releases the guy by dropping him into a rooftop swimming pool which has gotta be several stories below.

Imagine if his aim was just a little bit off! Batman’s like, “Hey, the sign only said ‘No Diving’.” See, this is why you keep your rooftop pool covered when you’re not using it. Hell, the dude probably shit his pants in that pool out of fear. I would have!

Feat of Clay (Part 1) also brought up the subject of fame, and the repercussions of it, much like how Beware the Gray Ghost did, but we take a much different approach to the character, one that I will be going more in detail with…next time! How will Feat of Clay (Part 2) hold up? I’ll give you a hint: TMS.

Watching this episode with Char and noticing her confusion as Bruce acts so shady was perfect.

I don’t remember their eyes glowing like this when I took the screenshot! Their eyes must have reflected the camera flash...

Lucius Fox debut episode. Don’t know much about him yet, though.

Picture that case as a pizza box.

Matt Hagen movie poster. If only the poor guy realized that he still had the ability to play these parts, even if the public found out about his face.

Him licking his lips here was a little odd.

I think that this might be our first time that we’ve had a villain so established and successful among the public. The corruption of his company doesn’t seem to be common knowledge.  Look at his foreboding building!

Ed Asner plays Daggett, an original character to this show. No, I’m not gonna make any “soulless ginger” jokes. What is this, 2012?

There is no way that stuff wouldn’t be all over the conveyor belt.

More satisfying typing noises! Yeah, baby!

The shittiest shots in the episode. Happen as Batman zooms by the camera in the Batwing.

You’ve pissed Batman off if you see this face.

It’s one thing to frame Batman, it’s another to frame Bruce Wayne! And unlike a lot of superheroes, Bruce Wayne is a big enough public figure where it would make total sense for criminals to frame him.

We’ll be seeing more of what kind of monster he’s been turned into next time!

Char’s grade: A

Next time: Feat of Clay (Part 2) Full episode list here!

#batman tas #dcau #dc animated universe #feat of clay #feat of clay part 1 #batman #batman the animated series #clayface

[lsgingasblog]

Of Transfer Student and Fierce Rivalry

This work I ended up combining 3 days. So spoiling Diana, Anniversary and Free day, of which I went unoriginal with Harry Potter AU.

Again sorry for the length on this one and being so late.

To read in AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380559/chapters/35694663

Atsuko Kagari, muggle born witch. Gryffindor seeker. Infamous troublemaker. Unconventional duelist. Entertainer extraordinaire. Loyal Friend. Infectious smile and energy. Girlfriend to part veela Ravenclaw seeker Diana Cavendish.

And this particular Ravenclaw seeker felt pretty bad right now to call herself girlfriend to such an amazing individual as Akko.

Both Frank and I were fulfilling an errand for school, promotion for the tri-wizard tournament that was going on.

It would’ve made more sense if Miss O’Neil, one of the competitors where present, but I suppose the headmistress was aware how unruly she could be.  Also O’Neil did crudely blurt out ‘Miss me with the politics, I just wanna beat the other schools’. Miss O’neil once again callously misses the main intent of the tri-wizard tournament, but she’s not the main troublemaker I care to often keep in line if things go too out of control.

I stare at the slumbering brunette in my immediate view and I feel the corners of my lips tugging upwards. Despite my sheer exhaustion, I crouch down to akko, passed out on the biggest couch in the head common room.

She is the epitome of calm and pleasant when like this, although I don’t particularly mind her various facets including her more rambunctious side.

It would seem I really did muck something up here. Glancing around I see streamers, balloons, plastic cups and cake. Lotte, Sucy, Amanda, constanze, jasminke, barbs and Hannah seem to be spread about on head common room floor. Akko wanted to throw me a surprise party no doubt.

I take a gander at Frank for his reaction of our messy shared common room but he seemed to only chuckle and shake his head while heading to his room.

He sends a wave my way mumbled a ‘night’, which I returned and he closed the door behind him. Leaving me with sounds of snoring, breathing and turning around of the various guests.

I can’t blame him. I’m exhausted as well, it’s nearly 4 am after all.

I’m touched by Akko’s efforts though, not only in instances like this but also for the little things she does.

For example how she knows I hate it when it hails, because it reminds me of the weather the day my mom passed away and she always does something silly or brings my favorite dessert to cheer me up. Or even that I only ever drink up to half of the butter beer and she usually ends up being the one to drink the rest. Or even how I always have a hair tie that I play with after something snide or callous gets directed towards me about my part veela heritage or past and she promptly intervenes by either cutting the person off or changing the course of the conversation.

I feel so utterly pampered by this lovely individual, yet she also brings a sort of fire out of me and not just the kind of sexual attraction, no, the kind that keeps me on my toes, makes me feel conflicted because I want to outrival her yet also support her.

A competitive energy not only present in Quidditch or defense against the dark arts or even dueling.

No, we even make each other better in areas we aren’t too confident and we dare to explore various facets of our self because our lives have been so involved with one another the last few years.

I crawl next to Akko on the couch and she instinctively moves over and hugs me while mumbling some incoherent words.  I could go to my room, but there’s no place I’d rather be right now to be honest.

I will properly thank all of them later today, but now I just want to drift back to sleep and thank the lucky stars the day this girl barreled into my life.

Actually it’s been exactly 4 years from today, that Akko and I became friends.

Our initial relationship was definitely more civility than friendliness and more an intense competitive nature above all else, but looking back I don’t think I would change it for the world, after all it’s the initial skepticism of each other that makes the eventual transition to a more friendly rivalry and irreplaceable friend/ individual in each other’s life that much more poignant.

I had transferred in the middle of my 3rd year at Hogwarts.

I was originally at bauxbottons. Due to various circumstances I found myself at Hogwarts instead.

I got sorted into Ravenclaw. The transition period of starting in the middle of the year wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Strangely enough I felt more at home at Hogwarts the first week even, despite all the conflicting emotions, more so than Baux ever gave me in the years I went there.

The many surprises were the likes of Andrew, Hannah and Barbara being at Hogwarts.

Andrew’s mother and my mother were close and therefore we used to be close friends too in our early childhood, but due to being shipped to boarding schools abroad shortly after our mothers died and just trying to cope with everything around us, we drifted apart and there was a lot of bad air that needed to be cleared up. Besides, last I heard Andrew was attending Durmstung.

Even Hannah and Barbara that went to preparatory baux with me I didn’t seek to contact them after we separated because I assumed the same loss of contact with Andrew would occur again with them and seeing as they didn’t sent any letter my way, I figured I was right.

Making lasting friends or friends in general was never my forte and due to being ¼ veela I’m also weary of people approaching me because they genuinely like me or for my looks or accuse my supposed veela powe to having manipulated them, or worse even because of being connected to Cavendish Medic Association.

Although fat lot of good that will do them, if the association continues the way it is going Cavendish MA will go bankrupt thanks to my aunt’s insistence on lavish living and cutting corners in all the wrong areas.

These past months was busy getting the handle on the school grounds, where the classes were, the library, and the various nook and crannies of the place and I have to admit, Hogwarts is utterly enchanting, not only because of all the incantations done on it, but just everything about it.

I can see why my mother fell in love with it, the year she stayed here for the tri-wizard tournament as a Buax student in her last year.

Coincidentally this is where she met my dad, but I have yet to stumble on any school pictures of my dad. I remember being told he was Gryffindor Quidditch captain, so it’s unusual I have yet to see it.

Perhaps Gryffindor common room? But who can I possibly….? Ooh….of course. I feel a headache come on as soon as those amber eyes and mischievous smile pop up.

Atsuko Kagari. The hyper-active, brazen, incomprehensible muggle born witch.

My complex feelings regarding Kagari were frustrating to say the least.

My first impression of her was that she was juvenile and reckless. Sending paper birds around class and disrupting it. My second impression of her is that she is too fidgety for her own good and lastly she always mettles in places and people that do not directly concern her and its downright infuriating.

Don’t believe me?

Exhibit A.

I knew I had to eventually try to make peace with Andrew, but it’s been over 2 month since that first awkward exchange andrew initiated my first day here with a simple ‘It’s nice to see you again’ passed through means of a note.

I was thoroughly confused because just over 2 years ago at a Christmas function Andrew purposely shut down any conversation I attempted to start with him, worst of all we were sitting at the same table due to my aunt wanting to suck up to Andrew’s dad, possible for more investment capital in Cavendish MA, but with the results of most investment in the last few years not being visible, this whole attempt is rather in vain.

That Christmas dinner solidified my views on the impossibility of anything amicable being had between Andrew and me.

‘It’s nice to see you again’ is definitely not what I was expecting.

However I would quickly find out Atsuko Kagari was the center of this transformation, as she is for most of the eventful occurrences in my life ever since I came to Hogwarts.

Before this I had already gotten declarations from Akko calling me her rival.

This all started in a particular Defense against the dark arts class where it was the monthly dueling class.

Atsuko Kagari is not the most studious alumni, but she’s exceptional in 2 academic disciplines in particular defense against the dark arts and linguistics. Of which despite her more dismal or passable grades for some of the other courses she is top of the class in both of those.

Being used to topping pretty much all classes for as long as I’ve been in school, it was surprising to not be at the top. At first I was annoyed, not because of some arrogance or anything thinking I was owed the spot, because mother told me to never believe the world owes you anything, but rather to work for what you want, no it came from a chilling realization that all I’ve truly had ever since my mother passed away are my academics.

With a family that treats me either like a stranger or a nuisance and my less than stellar track record with making lasting friends I have buried myself in knowledge, because that is something no one can take away from me.

Unlike that dark hailing day my mother was taken from me or the hailing morning 1 week after my Aunt told me ‘Beauxbottons is the alma matar of Cavendish so pack up’. I had to leave the one place I call home in less than 24 hours to boarding school in France. Or even my disappointment when andrew didn’t respond to any of the letter I sent him up to 2 months after he left for Bulgaria.

After the 3rd week at Hogwarts I starting tying for first spot in DADA class alongside Akko and this did not sit well with her. DADA, linguistics and Quiddtich are after all things she feels quite strongly for by how much she talks about each of those topics, mind you this is only from stray conversation from where I sit at the Raven claw table.

Of which she sometimes sits at next to Andrew, but that girl cares little for house separation seeing her group of friends.

This mousy girl Lotte Yanson from Hufflepuff, the robust and kind Jasminka Antonellie and Andrew’s best friend Frank also in Hufflepuf. Then we have her rowdy best friend and fellow Gryffindor Amanda O’Neil that is exasperatingly more of a handful than Kagari. She has Slytherin friend in Sucy Manbavaran as well, at least I think they are. And Ravenclaw with Andrew and this one tiny girl that has a habit of writing what she wants said or having a tiny robot of sorts say it for her, Constanze I believe her name was. For the life of me I can’t seem to remember the rest of her names.

Coincidentally Constanze noticed my sightline one morning while we were both eating breakfast on the Ravenclaw table.

Kagari was surrounded by that big group of friends, she and O’Neil were the loudest of the group and so early in the morning too….

I turn to regard Constanze, this was not my first encounter with her, as I have sat next to her in some classes in the few weeks I’ve been here.

That said she never registered more than fleeting acknowledgment or a nod at best.

She starts writing on the portable board she carries around at times. ‘Akko is special’.

Well yes I was beginning to understand that as well. It’s even more amazing because she only knew of the world famous magician Shiny Chariot, but none of the tradition, basics or anything natural to magic born community and yet she’s so free and doing so well.

I imagine her adaption period must have been stressful, but I admire and respect how utterly her home she has made Hogwarts and building up her unusual, diverse yet sizable group of friends.

Just then Kagari approaches the table and ask Constanze if she wants to join them she merely responds with a nod and walks over to the Gryffindor table where the whole group was bunched up.

Akko walks along but not before shooting me a frown and particular hostile look my way.

And it just makes me annoyed. I did nothing to provoke her and yet she’s behaving like this.

The only words I addressed to her were particular outstanding moments she was disrupting the class for too long and she always sent a glare my way, but I haven’t done so in close to 2 weeks so I fail to understand what warranted that reaction.

Fast-forward to a week later and we have the monthly duel class for DADA.

Kagari challenged me to a duel and in all honesty the less than amicable looks my way were not appreciated, especially since I have no idea what set them off. I admit it was extra irksome because Akko never shows prolonged annoyance to anyone, partly due to her attention span not allowing that, but also she’s been known to get along with everyone, so not only was I miffed but a bit hurt and confused as well why this particular negative attention was directed at me.

I ended up beating her best 2 out of 3, but the various things she throws at you from flying squirrels to jack and marbles was frustrating, especially since I did fall during the marbles one which is why she soundly won one of the rounds, despite my embarrassment I have to admit her reflex and quick-thinking is admirable although she gets too full of herself easy which ended up being her downfall.

I tried commenting this for a point of improvement and she gets angrier and declares she doesn’t want pity from her rival and she will beat me next time. I was left perplexed and annoyed. This girl is incomprehensible.

However this was not all.

Shortly after this, Andrew and I were bizarrely put in situations where we were stuck in various places together for a prolonged amount of time.

I was furious because I know it was her doing after the first two.

However as much as I disliked being misled one of those sessions did end up with Andrew and I both apologizing and starting bit by bit to rebuild a friendship.

The issue with Hannah and Barbara got resolved with almost the same methods, although the relationship with those two is still a bit sore, but it’s making baby steps progress, so that’s the best I can hope for.

Also Barbara seems to have made fast friends with Lotte. I don’t think a Slytherin and Hufflepuf such fast and close friends is something that is seen often. Although I suppose that vapid book series is partially to thank for that. Leave it to akko, even if it was an indirect effect.

Andrew told me to hang out with them, but despite Akko’s many help she still glares or frowns at me, and I do quite understand where I stand with her and part of me feels annoyed to be so indebted to the girl.

She makes tons of messes that I sometimes get asked to clean up due the teacher’s knowing my role as a prefect of sorts in beaux, since they start at an earlier year than Hogwarts.

And yet she cleans up the messes I’ve made that I was either to afraid or incapable of doing so, until she forced me to face them.

Actually another thing that probably made me hesitant to join Andrew and the others was Exhibit B, Quidditch.

While the ravenclaw seeker was already chosen since I came in the middle of the 3rd year, sometime in March the seeker stepped down because of wanting to focus on his NEWTS, since it was his last year.

The backup Ravenclaw seeker had dragon pox and since professor nelson has seen me in a baux quidditch match last year when she came to visit a friend, she knows I play.

And so I got roped in to play my first game as a Ravenclaw seeker against Gryffindor.

At this point I was half tempted to let Akko win, a part of me wanted to join that colorful group of friends without having to feel bad about it, because the one they all appreciate, Akko, isn’t too keen on me.

However Akko got angrier when she called me out on not trying hard enough. I realize after her outburst that I wanted to fight her earnestly as well.

We were neck and neck but at the very last moment I won out and ravenclaw beat Gryffindor that match.

I was half expecting Akko to be angrier but she burst out laughing and then become serious.

“As your rival I swear I’ll beat you next time Diana!” all the while pointing her finger at me and proceeded to storm off.

Well actually I suppose that one wasn’t too bad in hindsight.

Actually I’m just searching for excuses to not get sucked into Akko’s pacing, but everything she does is both heartfelt at times and/or utterly nerve-wrecking and she thrives on a chaos that I am wholly unfamiliar with.

My last point of this, exhibit C if you will, although at this point I’m unsure what I’m even trying to convince myself off any more….

A few days before today Slytherin and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams were getting ready for the match today.

Some slytherins though weren’t happy with me playing, saying my veela powers would be used to distract them and therefore I wasn’t allowed to play, which was absurd, although this is sadly not the first time I heard such asinine excuses or snide remarks being made in regards to my progeny.

The Slytherin that were angry tried ambushing me and I was managing fine on my own but they became 5 against one. Just when I was being pushed to a corner then Andrew and Akko showed up too and fended them off alongside me. They heard wind of this from talks at the common room area. So they decided to come find me.

Akko mentions jokingly she does get the whole “Cavendish is distracting part”. I get annoyed and flustered. I start playing with my hair tie around my hand and decide to dismiss myself after thanking them.

Akko is an enigma. She claims to be my rival and while I enjoy the thrill and excitement of our duels and fighting on the pitch, more than anything I wanted to get closer to her. To be part of her inner circle. That very desire though scares more than anything else.

I came to Hogwarts partially hoping for a transformative change for me, and Akko is about as literal as a personification of one if I ever saw it. And yet part of me was resisting this. Telling myself it’s fleeting or it’s all happening so fast. I was scared what a Diana that actually lets go of parts of herself she has clung on to would even look like.

However right now where I’m at, with a bruised ankle, possibly sprained hiding behind a big tree while having an invisibility and magic cloaking spell in effect. All of my earlier notions of fear of change seems rather silly.

How exactly did I end up here?

Short story some Slytherins weren’t happy I didn’t get replaced or taken out of the game, so they came up with a plan to teach me a lesson.

The morning of the game I looked outside and it was dark and hailing. The one weather I absolutely loathe because of how all my most misfortunate moments happened in that weather.

Akko came to do her usual rival declaration and saying don’t let anyone else but her beat me, I unreasonably snapped at her and for probably the first time I didn’t get an indignant response back but she looked hurt said ‘fine’ and just walked off.

I was starting this game in the worst frame of mind already. It is for that reason that after repeatedly having to dodge the bludgers sent my way by the beaters when someone from the crowd threw something at me when I was nearby when I just swerved to miss the bludger, I caught it.

I noticed too late one of the boys yesterday I was fending off threw me the item. I feel the tug of teleportation and as I crash on the foreign ground I notice the sky even more impossibly dark, even more hail and in the darkness of the sky moving figures. Dementors. It was a portkey.

I’ve been running and fending them off but patronus charm is something I’m no good at, can’t seem to make a strong enough one to create a corporal animal.

Maybe that’s why I’m here right now thinking back to scattered moments in my short 4 months in Hogwarts.

I heard getting your soul sucked out by dementors is immensely painful.

I already feel weak because by pure luck I managed to escape when 5 ambushed me.

I think back to my mom and I can’t imagine she would ever wanted to be reunited with me quite so soon.

Or how I failed to verify the legend of the 7 words of Arcturus she confessed to me a few months before passing is a key to something greater and might not only help Cavendish MA, but both the muggle and magical world.

And yet despite all of this my thoughts come back to Atsuko Kagari.

She, who has managed to change to indifferent Andrew. She, who has managed to make the mean spirited and at times haughty Hannah and Barbs friends or at very least civil towards people in different houses.

They who were stuck with class segregation, sure they are still a bit snooty, but the progress they have made is noticeable.

Akko is utterly vibrant and I can’t deny she has begun to change me too and despite being constantly out of my comfort zone around her I’m not upset, rather she excites me and makes me feel lighter.

Actually, earlier I said pure luck that I escaped the dementors earlier but that isn’t true, it was brief but the moment her face and wide teasing infuriating smile popped into my head I made a corporal patronus. It seemed like a horse, but I didn’t stick around to watch and took the opportunity to make a mad dash to possible safety.

I’m not sure if I can do the same though, because my one regret is that we never stated we were friends.

Sure we were rivals, but I would never admit that to Akko’s face. More than anything I want to be considered among the people she treasures the most, it’s silly given how I tended to react around her, especially at the start.

Additionally I had shot her down before the match today when she just wanted to give the usual rival speech of only her being able to beat me, But given the weather and where my thoughts were going back to I snapped at her and I didn’t apologize because the match was starting.

My power is waning, the invisibility and suppression spells are gone. I close my eyes. I couldn’t ever imagine this would be my end. I don’t want this to be it for me, but I hear something approaching. I decide to fight one last time, at least I will go out having tried my hardest. I open my eyes.

“Diana!” I am onslaught by an exuberant embrace. It’s Akko. She seems to be crying and holds me even tighter.

I am unable to form words. Akko pulls me away to inspect and I already miss the warmth she provided after all the dark clouds and hail provide little as means to keep warm.

“Diana….listen I went ahead but professor Ursula and headmistress Holbrooke should be heading here, we’re going to get out here, promise” Akko gave me a worried look while she was holding both my shoulders.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you akko” my exhaustion is starting to catch up with me.

“What? Ooh don’t worry about that. Come on Diana I’ll help you up and lean on me, one of you ankles seems pretty bruised, I’ll help you walk.”

I accept her help but I’m confused “Why did you come here?”

She sighs and looks at me from our position of having my arm draped over her shoulder.

“What kind of question is that even Diana, you’re my friend so of course I would come for you.”

My throat feels like it has something stuck in it, because I’m overcome with a feeling of relief and gratitude right then. I don’t trust my usual tone, but I respond anyway.

“I thought we were rivals” I croaked out, barely holding back being a crying mess.

Akko sends a beaming smile my way. “So you do admit we’re rivals!”

“No, I’m merely using the words you frequently and enthusiastically direct towards me” I look away from her gaze. I’m unsure why exactly I’m getting flustered at this.

“We can be both!” I glance back at her and she gives me a soft smile.

I chuckle wholeheartedly.

We continue walking a bit more, it’s going slower than I would like, because of my ankle.

We hear rustling again it’s a hoard of dementors, 10 maybe, not at least 20 or 30 even approaching from a distance.

Akko pulls me close by the waist as a response for having held on tighter to her shoulders. We both have our wands at hand.

I’m beyond exhausted, but I refuse to die here. Not after the elation I felt when finding out I’m one of Akko’s treasure people or finally warming up to the idea of accepting change in my life.  

I think I have a moment that might finally be strong enough for a patronus charm.

So I close my eyes and we both yelled out at the same time. “Expecto patronum!”

A majestic bird came out of the tip of akko’s wand and I notice mine wasn’t a horse, but rather a unicorn.

We keep at it for a while and driving away some, but more keep heading towards us.

We keep at this for quite a bit and I have sadly reached my limit. My knees buckle next to akko and I see her crouch down next to me while still holding out her wand hand with the activated patronus charm. My eye lids are growing heavy and the last thing I see are the beads of sweat on her face and the tired look as she finally stops the patronus charm, with a hoard of dementors still storming towards us.

I wake up and I’m staring at a white ceiling. It smells of antiseptic and fresh linen.

I turn around to see akko with her head resting on the side of my bed in a chair.

“Her neck is going to wake up stiff”

I’m startled by the voice that just came from the opposite side of me.

“Andrew” I announce hoarsely. I shift myself to a more upright position and notice how sore I am.

“I’m glad you are awake and looking better Diana” Andrew regarded me with a smile. I return the gesture.

“Miss Kagari is truly an indomitable force, wouldn’t you agree Diana?” as I was about to respond we both turn our attention to stirring.

Akko rubs her eyes and sports a wide smile once she notices I’m awake. “Diana!” and she proceeds to enthusiastically hug me. I inwardly groan from the soreness, but a hug from Akko is totally worth it, even if I’m not used to such affectionate and frequent displays of appreciation and care.

Andrew sends a knowing smile my way almost as if to say ‘See, did we ever stand a chance against her?’

I’m inclined to agree, with such an indomitable force as Akko Kagari it’s near impossible to remain completely unaffected by her mere presence and I can’t say I mind it too much.

I wake up in a wonderful mood. Akko has drooled on my neck again and her leg is completely draped over my legs, with her one hand pressing me lightly against her and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I decide to get up however, because unfortunately Holbrooke asked me to report to her how the tri-wizard event went.

I try to slip away but Akko merely holds on tighter. “Don’t go”

I could remind her of how headmistress is expecting me, but seeing as Frank’s door is still closed, I relented and decide to relax again in the hug.

Akko opens her eyes and lifts her face from my neck to look at me “I missed you”

“I missed you too, sorry about not making it back in time” I respond softly and apologetically back. Akko smiles and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry I had a back-up plan all along. You’ve had the crown for throwing the most extravagant and thoughtful parties for you girlfriend for too long. I will usurp you today!”

I chuckle. It’s ridiculous how we still compete with each other.  Stronger even instead of being less, like one would expect we found new silly, creative, exciting and adventurous ways to find something to challenge each other with. It’s never a dull moment with my lovely girlfriend.

To be fair she already did an amazing job. While I was away on the tri-wizard trip to 2 different place, of which Akko knew some people there and asked for their help.

She managed to do an elaborate scavenger hunt of which she knows I’m weak for and if that wasn’t enough on the trip back home I had people, some I knew some I didn’t hand me various kind of flowers with a lovely note written on each one.

Who knew Akko would be such a romantic, then again we’re both fairly hopeless for each other in all honesty.

“I think you already won love, with the scavenger hunt and the flowers you outdid yourself. Shall I hand the crown now? Or would a later time be preferable?”

Akko grins and buries he head back on the crook of my neck.  Her muffled reply sounds out “Not until after later today”

I’m left curious what else she has in mind, but before I could ask I notice her breathing has changed.

Ooh well. I will give her the win this time she’s more than earned it, but I already started planning her upcoming birthday since last year, so I will get the crown back soon enough.

Its Sunday luckily enough so no classes. On top of that we already had a testing period just now. So nothing urgent at hand.

For now though I let out one more content sigh as I drift into a blissful slumber once again.

#diakko #dianakkoweek #dianakkoweek 2018 #I'm late as usual for this week

[aion-rsa]

Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow, and the Legacy of Ninja Movies

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This article contains Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins spoilers.

It’s been a long time since we’ve been to the movies and an even longer time since we’ve seen a ninja flick on the big screen. Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins is a dazzling return to the underrated ninja genre – a breakout premiere in the shadow of the pandemic. 

Ninja films rarely earn a theatrical showing anymore. They are pigeon-holed as B-grade movie fodder, and justifiably so. Back in the 1980, ninja films proliferated when second and third-run movie theaters ruled. Campy, low budget ninja pictures were popular fare there back then, right alongside slasher films and teen sex comedies. But with the advent of home entertainment, those cheap flea-ridden theater seats atop soda-sticky floors are long gone. Nowadays, most new ninja films go straight to streaming so to see one on the big screen is quite a treat for fans of the genre.

Above and beyond the G.I. Joe franchise, Snake Eyes rides on the cloak tails of a massive colorful genre (even if that color is mostly black splattered with sanguineous red). In Japan, ninja films are part of their venerated cinematic category known as Jidai-geki, or “period dramas.” Silent Japanese movies about ninjas can be found as early as the 1910s – silent like Snake Eyes himself. 

Ninjas still proliferate Japanese cinema, especially in anime. Who can deny the impact of Naruto? And as anyone who has seen it knows – Batman Ninja is an uncommon treat of an anime mash-up. There are literally hundreds of Japanese ninja films – anime, classic historical, modern depictions, tokusatsu stories, even a whole sub-genre of erotic ninja films. 

And ninja movies are still popular in Japan. In 2019, director Yoshitaka Yamaguchi delivered his highly regarded dual ninja films, Last Ninja: Red Shadow and Last Ninja: Blue Shadow. Like Snake Eyes, that was a creation story circling around a ninja rivalry. 

Early Hollywood Ninja Movies

The immigration of ninjas to Hollywood goes back to none other than James Bond. In 1967, You Only Live Twice introduced Bond (Sean Connery in his final appearance as 007 in an Eon Production) to a clan of ninja accomplices. The film marked a significant departure from Ian Fleming’s original novel. You Only Live Twice was the conclusion of Fleming’s “Blofeld trilogy” where Bond finally gets revenge on his arch nemesis and murderer of his bride. Bond finally tracks down Blofeld in Japan, hiding in his “Garden of Death,” a restored castle surrounded by poisonous plants, and dispatches him in a brutal sword fight. 

The movie script was written by children’s book author Roald Dahl, who pirated the plot of the second book of the Blofeld trilogy, Thunderball, in which SPECTRE steals a missile, but instead of atomic bombs, it’s a manned spacecraft. In retrospect, it felt right to have Her Majesty’s top assassin introduce Japan’s elite killers to Western audiences. 

In 1975, celebrated action director Sam Peckinpah reintroduced Western audiences to ninjas in Killer Elite. James Caan and Robert Duvall play former covert operative partners, Mike Locken and George Hansen. Again akin to Snake Eyes, Locken and Hansen are split by a vengeance-filled rivalry. Hansen is in cahoots with a ninja clan, led by Negato Toku, played by renowned real-life Karate master Takayuki Kubota. Kubota invented a popular self-defense keychain that he dubbed Kubotan and instructed many celebrities, notably Martin Kove who plays Kreese in Cobra Kai. Sadly, Peckinpah succumbed to cocaine during production and Killer Elite is regarded by many critics as his worst film. 

The 1980s: The Golden Age of Ninja Movies

The addition of Snake Eyes into the G.I. Joe universe came as a reboot of the toys that reflected the times. Originally G.I. Joe dolls were 12” military figures that were introduced in the 1960s. These were reality-based figures, each emulating the authentic uniforms and gear of U.S. armed forces. In 1982, the toy line was rebooted at 3 ¼” scale, the same size as the popular Star Wars figures introduced in the late 70s. 

These new G.I. Joe came out with an accompanying marketing plan that included a simultaneous comic series from Marvel that revealed the rivalry between the “Real American Hero” G.I. Joe team and the villainous terrorist organization known as Cobra. The campaign was so successful that the first animated G.I. Joe TV show came out the following year. 

And at the movies, the great ninja wave began with Chuck Norris’ 1980 flick The Octagon. Regarded as one of his stronger films, Norris played Scott James, a retired Karate champion, who has to face his rival half-brother, the ninja terrorist Seikura, played by another renowned Karate master, Tadashi Yamashita. Yamashita is credited as the man who taught Bruce Lee how to use his signature nunchaku. Norris opened the door for the ninja invasion of the ‘80s with The Octagon, as well as inspired the UFC’s trademarked octagonal ring, The Octagon, which has become a hallmark of the brand.

Following Norris’ lead, Sho Kosugi emerged as the leading ninja in grindhouse cinema. He starred in a series of ninja films beginning in 1981 with his preposterous yet entertaining “Ninja Trilogy,”  Enter the Ninja, Revenge of the Ninja, and my personal favorite, Ninja III: The Domination (although most feel his 1985 film Pray for Death which falls outside the trilogy was his ninja masterpiece). 

The other leading ninja franchise of the eighties was the American Ninja pentalogy. Michael Dudikoff played Private Joe Armstrong in a franchise which echoed the paramilitary ninja connection from G.I. Joe. In the first film, Armstrong faced the Black Star Ninja, seeing Tadashi Yamashita once again playing a ninja baddie. 

Dudikoff was an exception to the rule that ninja film leads must have a martial arts background. However he was athletic and a quick study, and became a dedicated practitioner from his involvement with the franchise. Dudikoff starred in three of American Ninja films. He skipped American Ninja 3: Blood Hunt because he didn’t want to get typecast as a martial arts actor and was anti-apartheid (it was filmed in South Africa). He returned for American Ninja 4: The Annihilation but didn’t appear in American Ninja V. Both Kosugi’s films and American Ninja franchise were produced by that goliath grindhouse of the eighties, Cannon Films. They made ample bank slinging ninja films back then.

The ‘80s ninja craze helped inspire G.I. Joe’s Snake Eyes, and he quickly rose to become a favorite character. The pivotal G.I. Joe comic issue #21, “Silent Interlude,” was published in 1984 (coincidentally the same year the first Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles comic was released). This was one of the first modern comics to be told entirely without word bubbles. It helped set the tone of silence for Snake Eyes’ character. That issue also marked the first appearance of Storm Shadow. 

As with all comic-to-cinema characters, Snake Eyes has several incarnations, depending upon which story you follow. In the comic canon, Snake Eyes suffers a horrible helicopter crash while saving Scarlett’s life. His face is burned and he loses his voice, something very different than what we see on screen in Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins. 

Meanwhile, Hong Kong was getting into the action by infusing Kung Fu movies with ninjas. Leading the charge was the ultimate martial arts rivalry between China and Japan, 1978’s Challenge of the Ninja (a.k.a. Heroes of the East) in 1978, Veteran Kung Fu star Gordon Liu played Ho Tao, who must match his skills against his Japanese bride’s family. Got ninjas? According to Liu, the solution is scattering your yard with peanut shells! 

In a savvy move for those times, Challenge of the Ninja depicts the Japanese respectfully instead of as caricatured villains, with the exception of the ninja who Ho declares to be dishonorable. Challenge of the Ninja is widely considered as one of the all-time best Kung Fu films and in its wake, dozens more ninja films came out in Hong Kong and Taiwan.  

In 1982, the legendary Kung Fu grindhouse Shaw Brothers studios delivered the outrageously imaginative Five Elements Ninjas, directed by the legendary Chang Cheh who dominated the Kung Fu film genre with his gloriously bloody epics. 

The last major ninja film that was released theatrically in the United States was Ninja Assassin in 2009 (coincidentally the same year that G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra came out). It was James McTeigue’s second directorial effort following V for Vendetta, and starred K-pop singer and dancer, Rain. For ninja fans, it had a fitting homage by casting Sho Kosugi as the villain. Ninja Assassin was Kosugi’s final theatrical film role to date. The film hoped to continue as a new ninja franchise, and although it was profitable, it failed to attract enough of a following to warrant a sequel. 

The Rise of Snake Eyes

It’s a bold move for Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins to premiere exclusively in theaters. Not even Black Widow was so daring with the Delta variant looming. As theaters reopen, it seems telling that several of the first theatrical films coming out are about stealthy martial arts masters. 

You could argue that Natasha Romanoff is an MCU ninja (Elektra is the real Marvel ninja but Jennifer Garner’s film doesn’t count in the MCU “sacred timeline”). You could also argue that Mortal Kombat is a ninja movie. Both have black clad assassins wielding martial arts weapons. 

However Snake Eyes is a pure ninja film, unabashed and unapologetic in its style and gratuitousness. Regardless of its G.I. Joe origins, the Joes are peripheral. Snake Eyes evades that with a glorious reboot, shifting away from the canon established in the previous two live-action G.I. Joe films and forging its own path.

Snake Eyes is Hasbro’s Batman Begins. It’s a completely novel creation story for the characters that defies what the film franchise has already established. The origin story of Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow was already told in the first film, G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. While not the central tale, it was a significant story arc that forecasted how the ninjas would eventually eclipse the Joe’s paramilitary characters in popularity. 

In Paramount’s previous G.I. Joe films, Wushu champion Ray Park played the silent Snake Eyes, and taekwondo practitioner Lee Byung-hun was Storm Shadow. Byung-hun is constantly twirling a shuriken like a fidget-spinner, predating the 2017 fad by eight years. Park never speaks or shows his face, in character with the Snake Eyes of the comics. Their teacher the Hard Master is played by another real life martial arts master Gerald Okamura. 

The sequel, G.I. Joe: Retaliation added another ninja, Kim Arashikage, a.k.a. Jinx, played by Elodie Yung, a black belt in Karate. Yung went on to play Elektra in Netflix’s Daredevil. The standout act was a thrilling ninja battle while rappelling down a Himalayan cliffside. That show-stopping scene put the sequel above the original film, especially if you saw it in 3D IMAX. In a sneaky way, the ninja story arc creeps up on the G.I. Joe films from behind, and now it’s all about those ninjas. 

Bringing Ninjas Back

Compared to the CGI bombast of the earlier two films, Snake Eyes has cool cinematic style, bathed in Tokyo neon and split with flashing katana blades. And when it comes to action, it cuts quickly to the chase. Like any good ninja flick, there’s just enough plot to get to the next sword fight, no more, no less. And in contrast to previous outings, Snake Eyes tells a completely different origin story for the mysterious Snake Eyes. 

In this reboot, Snake Eyes (Henry Golding) and Thomas Arashikage (Andrew Koji) meet as adults, not as children. The Hard Master is played by Iko Uwais, a genuine master of the Indonesian martial art of Silat. A practitioner of Taekwondo and Shaolin Kung Fu, Koji best known as Ah Sahm, the lead role in the Bruce Lee inspired Cinemax series Warrior. 

Like Dudikoff decades ago, Golding had no martial arts background prior to accepting the role. Once he landed it, the Crazy Rich Asians star spent four hours a day training with the stunt team in preparation. 

With the exception of Golding, the casting of genuine martial arts practitioners underscores a critical element in ninja films. Ninja films are about martial arts fights. No matter how good the story and acting might be, a ninja film fails if it doesn’t bring great action. Consequently for a ninja film to work, it needs a cast with a genuine martial arts background. 

Golding makes up for his lack of skills with his smoldering screen presence, but much credit must be given to the film’s fight coordinator, Kenji Tanigaki. Tanigaki is one of Asia’s top choreographers who has been in the business since the mid ‘90s. Just prior to Snake Eyes, he oversaw the action on Donnie Yen’s last two films, Enter the Fat Dragon and Big Brother, and completed two more installments of the five-part samurai manga-turned-movie series Rurouni Kenshin. 

Snake Eyes is poised to spin off into its own franchise. The end credits scene with Storm Shadow declaring his new identity to the Baroness (Úrsula Corberó) was hardly a surprise to anyone, but it teased the possibility of a sequel. Back in May 2020, Paramount and Hasbro were in negotiations with Joe Shrapnel and Anna Waterhouse to write the script, but then the world plunged into the pandemic and no more developments have been announced at this writing. Will the sequel be Snake Eyes’ The Dark Knight? For ninja fans all over the world, we can only hope. 

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Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins is now playing in theaters.

The post Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow, and the Legacy of Ninja Movies appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

hello love!! sorry for the very late response :(((

yes my day was a lil bad, but it wasn’t the worst I guess? I mean, I was more disappointed with myself—I just passed my calculus quiz, but I knew I could have done a lot better since I knew the material well, except I panicked because of the time restriction. It kind of sucks because I’m worried my calculus mark will drop my gpa and it’s stressful bc ✨uni admissions✨ but there’s nothing I can do except hope I do well on my test tmr! it’s actually part of why I responded so late; I had a quiz today (I got 90%!!) and was studying all morning :(( I only logged into tumblr just now, but my day has already brightened reading your message🥰💓💓 (also thank you for the offer babe, but I’m feeling better now🥺💓

yes yes more brainrot please!! warning, this paragraph is just me rambling lol okok anyways mmm yes to everything you wrote but also how they hug you!! like okok going into my personal life, I’m a small bean (fun fact! I’m 4’11 and a neurologist told me I’m never going to hit 5’0”😭) and the boys are over 6’0” like??? i have childhood friends (coincidentally, twin boys who have a similar build to the Miya twins) who are over 6’0” and when they hug me they just kinda fold over me and it’s just an all encompassing hug🥺🥺 I haven’t seen them in over a year tho bc corona so this is just coming from my memories lol but anyways!! going back to our boys, I headcanon that their hugs would be just like that but even more so?? bc romantic relationships🥰🥰 n e ways, imagine back hugs while you’re cooking dinner with them after a long day and they just kinda drape themselves on you like the world’s heaviest blanket and won’t let you go to cook until whatever is on the stove begins to burn, or back hugs while you’re cooking breakfast and they sleepily nuzzle into your neck and leave little pecks on your shoulder that’s exposed bc of how oversized their shirt is on you, or you come surprise them at practice and they just sprint over and full body hug you (lifting you up and spinning you while holding you as close to them as possible) and you can’t even complain about how sweaty they are bc you’re reminded of how genuinely they love you and just hugs🥺🥺 sorry for the long ramble haha I just have so much love for these boys aaa but also I’m glad my last brainrot helped provide inspo for you🥰

OKAY WAIT I thought I was done but love letters!! (this was originally in the same paragraph but it got really long so im making it a second one sorry babes) but omg imagine them handwriting you love letters just because and I say love letters but really I guess I mean notes? (I count those as love letters tho don’t clown me 🥺) some of them are like two sentences clowning you for forgetting your umbrella leaving your house(“remember to bring your umbrella next time because ya look like a drowned rat, sweetheart”) and some of them are little reminders to drink water/eat/sleep, but on some occasions, sometimes on your actual important dates (birthdays, anniversaries) but also sometimes randomly, you’ll get a romantic ass letter talking about all the reasons why they love you and it’s all the little things you do, the small mannerisms that make you, you, like (“I adore the way your curl into me and cling to me when you’re sleepy, as if my lap is the only place you ever want to be” and “the way your tongue always slips to the corner of your mouth when you concentrate is the cutest thing ever, baby” and “the way you do everything you can to support me makes me fall even further into love with you (and I’m never going to stop loving you)” and “I know you think I think you’re crazy for colour coding your document folders, but really, I love how passionate you are about your organization system”) and I’m just dying please i want this to happen in real life🥺🥺 and omgomgomg this would be the cutest thing buT THERES MORE !! imagine that they write you love letters, all throughout your relationship, but they don’t give them to you until either your anniversary or your wedding and it’s just a massive compilation of all the thoughts they’ve had of you throughout the years, your dates, and even the unofficial crushing phase 🥺🥺 ngl I swear that there’s at least one letter talking about how frustrating it is that “you’re so cute, I can’t even coneventrate at practice >:( it’s all your fault that kita-san is lecturing me but you’re cute so I guess it’s okay” like hbshh baby please😭

I’ll do my best not to get stressed out!! we’ll see how I do tho lol but thank you for your concern ily angel💓💓

you are forever the angel baby but yes we are gonna have to agree to disagree😤 yes I will try to, lovely! take care of yourself as well; make sure you drink lots of water, eat yummy food, and get more than enough sleep! I am proud of you, as are the boys, for everything that you’ve done today💓

this was quite a long message haha and I’m sorry for how long it took me to get back to you, but take care of yourself love!! stay safe and healthy, and I’ll talk to you soon💘

–☁️

hi, sweetheart! i’m so sorry for not responding sooner! i thought i had, but apparently i didn’t — i’m not sure, tumblr isn’t being nice, today 😔🖐

i honestly can’t imagine how stressful that must be for you, sweetheart. i’m sorry your quiz grade wasn’t what you wished, but i do hope things all work out for you! 💕 i have faith that you’ll do better on the next quiz!! and i’m really proud of you for getting a 90%!! good job!! i hope you did good on your quiz today (or yesterday?) as well! 🤍 i’m sorry i haven’t posted at all, but i do have some good fluff and comfort lined up! (and okay, but never be afraid to ask 🤍)

i’m small too! not as small as you, but i’m 5’1 ans in love with that idea 🥺🥺 more brainrot though! okay okay, so lemme raise you this: hugs after they haven’t seen you in a while. LIKE HEAR ME OUT. so the boys travel, all of the time, for volleyball and games. and the olympics isnt hosted in the same country two years in a row! so i imagine the boys going away for a few weeks for it, and as much as you wanted to be there, you’d told them you wouldn’t be able to, for job related purposes. and like they understand, but they wished you could be there, bc ofc ofc they want you cheering them on. so, they’re at the olympics and they’re getting ready to start, when they spot you standing next to Hajime (either next to the coaches or in a special spot, so you stood out.) and the biggest grin breaks out on their face when they see you waving and cheering for them. and whenever the game is over and they’re able to get to you, baby is sprinting. he catches you and just easily lifts you up in his arms, showering your face in kisses. yes, he’s sweating, yes, it’s gross, but you don’t care, because he looks like an excited puppy, because you’re here and you’re his. and now everyone is staring and everyone knows that you’re his and that’s never going to change. then, he brings you to his teammates, showing you off with a proud smile and they all have a knowing smile because this is not the first time he’s done this. but it’s sweet so they deal with it.

and omg yes!! that’s the cutest thing ever! i love that so much. 🥺🥺 istg im taking notes for drabbles later, baby. that is so cute!

but also like (one of my love languages is gifts) so like. the boys aren’t used to the random items you leave. in their locker, in their gym bag, in their hoodie/jacket, when you give it back to them. they don’t know how to react at first to the gifts, which range. sometimes it’s their favorite energy drinks, sometimes it’s a new game, sometimes a stuffed animal, jewelry, or something sentimental, it all just depends. sometimes they’ll give you a gift in return, but you also let them know that they don’t have to, it’s just your way of showing you love them, and you just genuinely enjoy giving them gifts.

you better not get to stressed out, sweets 😤😤 ilyt and i want you to be happy, not stressed! 💕

i’m really proud of you for all you’ve gotten through today! and tomorrow, i’ll still be proud, because you’re you, and that’s what matters! 🥺🥺 yoh be sure to take care too. which means water, some good food, and a smile 🤍 you’re doing great, love! keep it up!!

and no no, don’t apologize! you’re good, sweetheart! just keep taking care of yourself! have a good day, sweetheart! i’m proud, don’t forget that!!

#🤍.suna #saffron answers #☁️.anon #🤍.anons