#‘something more’ with Than just feels dissonant to me ? Though honestly maybe I’m just completely misremembering it
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izuru-kamakura · 2 months ago
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Siiiighhh,,, final nail in the coffin was being the only ship that even slightly refuted aroallo Zag
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tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago
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the love club — miya atsumu
twenty six: the spectacular now
masterlist | prev. | next
a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around and watching tlc grow! this smau turned out to be more popular than i thought and i’m so glad for all the support! there were times where i was stuck on the plot and genuinely thought of putting this smau on hiatus,, but i’m glad i pushed through and didn’t. reading each and every one of your comments and reblogs made making this smau really fun. tysm 🥰
also the ‘read more’ link is making this post super glitchy and repeating paragraphs for no reason 😔😔
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(continuation of the convos last chap cause i couldn’t fit it in lmao)
atsumu’s chest heavy feeling upon arriving at the last and final train station in tokyo filled him with unnecessary unease. an abundance of worry had crashed upon him in a blasting flurry that even the early onset heat of japan in the spring was the last thing on his mind to complain about.
there were many things that could go wrong with such a flawed plan birthed from suna’s spontaneity. for one, you could very well reject atsumu the moment he finally came into your reach (this was the worse case scenario for him) and it could honestly evolve into something worse knowing his parents would beat his ass if they were to find out he took this trip with nothing but his phone, wallet, his brother, and a friend.
yet at this point, he had nothing to lose.
he was already in tokyo and wasted half his day coming all this way, there was definitely no point in going back and have all his efforts go to waste. if anything, you were atsumu’s pushing force, the strong current that pulled him along with the tides just to see you. he only needed one reason and that one reason was you.
a weary sigh emitted from his lips as osamu’s patted his brother’s shoulder with his free hand whilst the other was carrying a picnic basket. call it twin telepathy or just being plain observant, but the cacophony of atsumu’s erratic thoughts were evident upon his expression for osamu to notice. hell, even a random stranger with half a brain cell would know that the setter was going through some internalized anxiety.
this was osamu’s only way of comforting him as the only thing that would completely wash away atsumu’s fear was for you to take him back.
the feeling of dread didn’t cease for atsumu as it continued in a raging downpour on the way to the convention center in shibuya. the event had already started hours ago and the boys had no idea where to find you—not even kita who was great at taking the lead—he was captain after all.
by the time the four volleyball players entered the largely crowded convention center, they had no other choice but to breathe out their hopes in finding you in the midst of chaos.
by the time the four volleyball players entered the largely crowded convention center, they had no other choice but to breathe out their hopes in finding you in the midst of chaos.
“alright, the plan is...” kita huffs as his eyes scanned the bustling crowds that messily serpentined through booths. his gaze met back to the boys who surrounded him with intent written to their faces. a bittersweet smile melted upon his lips as it reminded him of giving pep talks right before games... no doubt he was going to miss it.
“i suggest we split up and find her,” osamu adds in first.
kita shakes his head, “this place is gigantic, it’ll take ages for us to even call and find each other if we do.”
“or i could steal a mic from somewhere and pretend y/n’s a lost child or something...”
“we’re not doing that, suna.”
“damn,” he sighs as he looked down in faux defeat.
a shaky sigh left atsumu’s lips again, “let’s just stick together and try and find her.”
with that the four of them delved into the crowd.
the convention center was certainly bigger than atsumu thought, and he certainly didn't remember the walk from the entrance of the event up towards the dense middle area where he was right now. perhaps it was the simmering and leftover fervor upon entering that his mind was too clouded to even know where he was going. at this point, he wasn't even trying to find you anymore, instead, he wandered the labyrinthine array of booths in self-indulgence until each turn appeared the same and he was back to the same spot he started.
where were you?
atsumu was at the cusp of giving up. even osamu who was supporting him the entire time was starting to complain. with the aching in his arm from carrying a heavy picnic basket of all the foods he made for you and his brother was weighing him back. even suna who was carrying the picnic blanket was sweating just by holding it.
“guys,” the setter sighs in defeat. “i think we should call it a day and—”
suddenly a hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him aback and capturing his attention. atsumu whips his head around only to look down upon a familiar face. a face that filled him with constant warmth and caused his heart to immediately quicken by the millisecond.
it was sudden. too sudden for you to even comprehend that the moment you spotted atsumu’s familiar figure looming over in the crowd, it was game over for you. your legs started walking by themselves as if they were being controlled by your heart rather than your head.
it wasn’t like you to do this, anyway—this confrontation. if anything, you were the type to pretend you didn’t see atsumu’s face, to turn back around into the crowd and act as if nothing had happened. but there was this aching in your chest, an abundance of tightness until it squeezed every last bi of unspoken truths out of your lungs.
was it guilt, sadnass, or anger? love?
you weren’t entirely sure, yet its dissonance couldn’t be ignored. even if you did try and avoid atsumu, you’d end up right in front of him either way.
“what are you doing here?” you asked, the tone in your voice and even to your expression was unreadable to atsumu.
he had no idea if you were excited to see him or if you were completely shocked and wanted him to leave immediately.
atsumu hoped it was the former.
“i–um...” he tried forming the words upon his tongue, but his thoughts were moving too fast for him to even comprehend what he was going to say to you.
hell, he even rehearsed what to say for this exact moment the entire train ride here to tokyo, yet he was completely slipping up.
his usual confidence and somewhat cocky attitude was nowhere to be seen. and it’s even crazy to think that you’re the only one who can make him act this way.
your grip on his upper arm tightened by the slightest bit when atsumu didn’t answer, “i’m about to present, tsumu, i don’t have enough time...”
tsumu?
you still call him that? even after all that happened?
if only he could just melt into your arms right then and there. he was so close to finally alleviating that yearn, but your comforting warmth left his body the moment you let him go.
“i’m here to apologize.” he swiftly answers as you were about to turn your heel, “...even though i’m three weeks late.”
your eyebrows furrow slightly as you teetered your weight back in forth, your nerves building up. atsumu hadn’t seen you do that since your project presentation together. “i should be apologizing too,” you sighed with instantaneous releif coursing through atsumu’s body, “but now’s honestly not a good time.”
“i know, but matsui told me that you might be moving away this summer and i wanted to see you.”
you swallowed the lump in your throat, cursing to yourself as you felt the sudden influx of crimson blush swearing from your cheeks to the edges of your ears. “so you came all this way?” your voice was a bit shakey.
could he tell you were nervous?
“only because i like you... still”
yup... he could definitely tell.
maybe that slight pinch awkwardness between the two of you was more beneficial that you thought. from the sheepish smiles and stolen glances, it eased you to your surprise. “i can’t believe i have feelings for an idiot.”
atsumu hums in amusement, eyes lighting up when he saw that familiar smirk on your face. “are they good feelings?”
“of course they are,” you scoffed, “why? would you rather have me back to hating you?”
the boy before you shakes his head. “no, i like it this way,” he mutters before pulling you into his chest without a second thought.
it was overwhelming. from how his much broader and taller body embraced you in such familiar warmth to even his scent of honey and mocha. despite being miles away from hyogo, it was atsumu who reminded you of home.
this was nice considering you weren’t exactly planning on forgiving him so easily. perhaps it was the way the moment you spotted his familiar blond undercut in the crowd he towered over caused a switch in your brain to flip. perhaps you miss the way he was right beside you almost everyday.
perhaps you couldn’t keep your distance from him anymore.
pulling yourself out of the hug, your eyes flicker over to a trio of volleyball players standing a good six feet away away from you two. their shoulders basically touched as they all gave you a smile and a wave.
eventually, your eyes dropped to picnic basket in osamu’s hands and the blanket draped over suna’s shoulders.
a slight chuckle emits from you lips, “what’s up with them?” you asked atsumu.
his head turns over his shoulder before looking back down at you. his arms still lingered around your waist as he hesitated to even let you go again. “remember back when we had our date during nationals, we visited the park?”
“so it was a date?” you almost explained.
“it thought it was,” atsumu shrugs, “we saw a couple on a picnic date and you thought it was cute so i figured we could go on one.”
“and you remembered that?” you questioned as you arched a brow towards him.
“every single detail.”
atsumu didn’t have to ask you to go on this date with him. at least at this point, he’d know you would’ve said yes. like what kind of person would reject a date from the love of their life who traveled five hours just for them?
only a idiot would and you were certainly not an idiot... not right now at least.
a saccharine-sweet smile appeared upon your lips as you looked back towards atsumu, “i’m free after six o’clock. you think you guys could stick around for a few more hours?”
“if that’s a chance to meet chef suzuno and eat dessert, then yes.” cut in osamu the moment you asked.
you and atsumu weren’t exactly in the most private of places, so but it wasn’t like you two cared at this point.
suna clears his throat, “um, my parents don’t even know im in tokyo right now, so if i get murdered tonight that’s on you guys.”
“either way, i gotta get home. i have to pack before the weekend ends.” kita adds as he pats suna’s shoulders, “which means you’re coming back to hyogo with me. (y/n) and the twins can take care of themselves.”
“but—!” suna tried to retaliate but was pushed back into the crowd and disappeared to go home.
you sighed in amusement before turning your attention back to atsumu.
“i have to go, now.”
atsumu nods, “samu and i will walk around then before watching your presentation.” he explains but as he was turning over his shoulder, you captured his arm again.
you planted a kiss on his lips. it was much softer than it looked and for a second the commotion around you two seemed to slow.
it felt like it took ages for atsumu to feel your lips against his, but the wait was worth it. his entire plan that ended up failing was worth it. the five hours of his ass hurting from sitting on the train seats was worth it. finding you within this impossible crowd was worth it. you were worth it—more than anything.
osamu fake gagged as he looked at you and atsumu in disgust, “can you two not make out in front of the cupcake display?”
fun facts! —
after the event ended, atsumu and y/n went on that picnic date just in time for sunset while osamu waited awkwardly by the swings
in the end, y/n moved to tokyo after being well liked by chef suzuno
the twins helped y/n pack and osamu even had to pull atsumu off of her cause he wouldn’t let her go 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
because of the long distance, atsumu and y/n go on minecraft dates cause theyre quirky
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straighttohellbuddy · 4 years ago
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how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}
2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.
Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 
Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 
A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.
{ m a s t e r l i s t }
Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 
taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx
----
The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.
The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.
By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    
When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 
It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 
Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 
But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.
“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.
“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”
“Alison, the vibes -”
“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.
“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”
“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”
“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 
"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."
"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.
But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.
As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.
[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]
Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 
But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.
[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.
@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖
@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!
@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️
End ID.]
Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.
"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.
"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.
"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.
“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.
“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 
An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.
"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 
"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 
"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"
And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.
All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...
All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 
"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 
"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 
He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.
"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”
“Have you drunk any water today -?”
“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.
“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.
“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.
“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.
As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -
“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”
“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.
“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”
“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.
“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 
“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”
“Which was?”
“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.
Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.
“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.
“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.
“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -
“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?
“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.
“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.
“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.
“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.
[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]
And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.
“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.
“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.
“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.
“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.
“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.
“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.
Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...
When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 
Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.
“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.
So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.
“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.
“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -
“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 
“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 
“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.
“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”
“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.
“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.
“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.
“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -
“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.
“Yeah?” 
A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.
“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.
“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 
“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  
“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.
“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.
“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.
“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”
[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.
blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]
fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]
fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]
crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]
Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.
So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.
Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.
He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 
“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -
“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.
“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.
So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 
Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.
He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.
It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.
At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.
Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.
"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 
Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 
If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.
Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.
“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.
The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 
He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.
Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 
Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.
[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.
@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺
@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover
(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.
Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)
@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork
End ID.]
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boltwrites · 4 years ago
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Misfits - Chapter 2
Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous) Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn
Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.
Chapter Summary:  You're started to settle in with the Bad Batch. Introductions are in order, but one in particular leads down a path you never expected.
read it on ao3 | or read more below
You had said goodbye to Rex only a few minutes prior. He had wrapped you in a tight hug and told you not to get into too much trouble, and you had to try really, really hard not to start crying in front of your new squad. He’d waved as you entered their transport, and instead of dwelling on those emotions – loss, sadness, anxiety – you’d pushed them to the back of your mind. You learned long ago that acting as if they didn’t exist wouldn’t help anything, but right now, you needed to compartmentalize. You hardly knew these men, and you didn’t want to freak them out by sobbing about leaving your best friend behind.
The men in question had since been introduced to you by Hunter. The tall, slender clone who liked to lean against the side of the ship like some half-baked deathstick dealer was Crosshair, a sharpshooter and sniper. You probably should have figured that, judging by the tattoo that encircled his eye. When Hunter introduced you, he had made a noncommittal noise, looked you up and down, and then decided you weren’t very interesting, instead walking his way back to the cockpit. You hoped he was just antisocial, and didn’t hate nat borns, or women, or something.
The big burly one was Wrecker, who had wasted no time in offering you a big smile and a firm clap on the back. Honestly, you thought he was going to hug you – and maybe he was, and then he thought better of it.
“You’re our new Jedi, huh?” he had asked with a broad smile? You offered him a somewhat hesitant one back – he was intimidating, after all. He was broad and muscular like you had never seen on a clone before, and the large scar that encompassed half of his forehead and a good portion of his scalp was distracting. It made him look hardened and dangerous, but with his jovial tone, you soon found out he was anything but menacing.
“Yeah, guess I am?” you answered with a nervous laugh.
“She’s a force-sensitive, Wreck, not a Jedi. She doesn’t answer to the Council.” Hunter had clarified. You were somewhat shocked that he cared about the difference – but, then again, he had seemed pleased that you weren’t a part of the Order, likely because it meant you had less rules to follow.
“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker had grinned, clapping you on both shoulders now, as he leaned down to grin at you. You had laughed a little harder, because you were starting to see now, by both his force signature and in his voice, that he was really just a big goofball. “I never liked the Jedi anyway!”
“Weren’t you just expressing how excited you were for ‘our new Jedi?’”
That had come from the one with the glasses – er, goggles? You weren’t exactly sure what they were, or if he needed them for his bad eyesight or just tactical reasons. Either way, he adjusted him on his face as Hunter introduced him as Tech. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what his specialty was – much like it was easy to deduce that Wrecker liked to punch things in addition to blowing things up. Tech, of course, handled a lot of technical issues and data – but you were actually shocked at the fact that he wasn’t, well… tiny.
Tech was taller than Hunter, and even Rex, as he peered down at you through his glasses. He took your hand and shook it – you could tell just by his grip that he was used to intricate work – robotics, droid work, rewiring datapads – fiddly things that required a steady hand. You had nodded politely to him as he greeted you.
The last member of the team, and perhaps the most elusive, was Echo. He was paler than the others, and studded with prosthetics – most prominently, the jack that his hand had been substituted with. He had an aura about him in the force that spoke of pain – not the pain of war that the rest of the squad exuded, no. This was a deeper pain, something profound and lasting, and you had a feeling it had to do with that arm, and the bolts in his skull, and the way his cheekbones still looked sharper than that of even Crosshair.
“You’re from the 501st?” he had asked, after Hunter had led you to the cockpit and left to look at something in Tech’s travel plans for the route to their next mission. You were alone, but Echo still gazed out the front of the transport into hyperspace, his flesh hand fiddling with the textured armrest of the captain’s chair.
“Yeah – I’ve worked with them for the past year, most of the time. I get contracted out from the unit to do a lot of stealth work that the Jedi obviously can’t be pulled for. Stuff like this, I guess,” you shrugged. Echo had hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at you, almost curious.
“Were you with the 501st when Captain Rex last worked with… Clone Force 99?”
The wording was strange. Rex had mentioned to your that this squad usually referred to themselves as “the Bad Batch” due to their mutations. But Echo was more cautious – he almost hesitated on the name. His force signature didn’t give away much more – it only told you that he was being careful with his words, that he didn’t trust you quite yet. Which, honestly, was to be expected.
“No. Anaxes, right?” Echo nodded, and you shook your head. “No – I was on a stealth mission. Well, I guess it couldn’t really be called a stealth mission… I was working with a pirate named Hondo Onaka. Think I might have rather been on Anaxes.”
You chuckled, trying to make light of it. You knew Anaxes has been a mess, and honestly you had felt horrible leaving behind the 501st in order to take on what you considered a useless political mission. You knew the campaign had been long, grueling, and complicated, and you always felt guilty when you weren’t by Rex and Anakin’s side to help with something so important.
“Ah,” Echo made a soft noise, picking at some scoring marks on his socket arm. You bit your lip at the awkwardness that permeated the room, the conversation stagnating at Echo dwelled on… something.
“I used to be a part of the 501st,” he finally admitted, glancing up at you. His eyes said more than his lips – there was sadness, there. It was hidden behind his soldier’s veneer of indifference, but you could tell by the way he looked at you that his transfer to Bad Batch hadn’t been as straightforward as your own.
“Yeah?” you asked, sitting down in the co-pilot’s chair next to him. He nodded, sighing, relaxing into the chair before shooting you a glance.
“Yeah. Made ARC trooper at one point. Me and Fives – me and Fives.”
His eyes had gleamed the first time he said it – but as he repeated Fives, his face fell, and your own did as well, your first clenching.
“Oh,” you breathed, and he glanced at you, ducking down to try to make out your expression.
“You knew him?”
“He talked about you – I had – I’m stupid,” you laughed, trying not to think about Fives. You hadn’t known him or Tup long before the incident, but Fives had showed you the ropes, along with Rex. You got along with him easily – he had been funny, and kind, and if he tried to flirt with you a few times you just put it up to you being the only woman available.
You remembered him talking briefly about Echo – he had only mentioned Echo once, with gritted teeth and a set jaw, mumbling something about a previous mission, and how he and a fellow ARC trooper had handled the situation. You could tell that it pained him to mention his comrade – that this Echo had likely died – and you didn’t press the subject. You knew, even then, that Fives didn’t deal well with loss. Ironic, then, how he was the one to cause so die, to cause the grief himself.
“I worked with him, before…” you gestured vaguely, and Echo nodded, not wanting you to mention Fives’s death himself.
“He thought I died at the Citadel. Everyone did,” Echo sighed, staring out at the hyperspace lane. “Maybe I did.”
You stared at him. In the force, his emotions were a tangled mess – grief, both for Fives and himself. Pain – not only physical, but emotional, spiritual. You couldn’t fathom what happened to him – you could look at this physical evidence of his cybernetic appendages, more similar to those of a droid than any prosthetics you had seen before. You could see the pallor in his face, the way his cheekbones jut from his face, how he had squinted far too severely in the light of the Coruscanti sun. He had been through something that you couldn’t fathom, something you would never truly understand, even if he did wish to explain it to you.
But despite that, you could still feel him in the force. When he spoke of Fives – the way his signature sparked let you know that he didn’t just know Fives. You could tell they had worked together for years, that they had likely grown up together. The rest of the Batch – their signatures sang in harmony because they had grown up together, because they had known each other for many years. And you initially hadn’t caught onto Echo’s dissonance – the way that he was trying to fit in with them, but how he didn’t fit in quite as easily as the other men. And now you knew why. It was because, while he had changed, he still held onto those bonds. Rex, Fives, the rest of the 501st – even though whatever Echo had endured, those were still his brothers.
“Not completely,” you mumbled, looking down. You could feel Echo’s eyes on you, so you sighed and continued. “You – you still care about them. Those men. They may not be your men anymore – and I guess they aren’t mine, either – but you care for them. That has to count for something.”
When you looked up, Echo caught your eye. His expression was unreadable, and his signature betrayed nothing. He was hard to read already – the cybernetics clouded your judgement – but you could tell that he didn’t exactly know what he thought of your statement.
“Yeah. Maybe it does,” Echo mumbled to himself, staring out across hyperspace, as stars flew by, exploding behind his eyes as he contemplated his place among them.
After that, the silence wasn’t quite so awkward. It was comforting, almost. You knew that it wasn’t the same – that although you and Echo were both former members of the 501st, that the circumstances were wildly different. But you still felt a kinship with him. Because he still knew Anakin, and Rex, and Fives, and Jesse, and Kix, and all the others. Because he probably played the same drinking games you had with the men, he had fought beside them as you did, and he had watched them die, as you had. You knew he wasn’t ready to talk, and perhaps he never would be. But if he ever was, you would be ready to listen.
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thekitschdiet · 4 years ago
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my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet
Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 
Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 
The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 
Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 
Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm
In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 
If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!
My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.
Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 
Moving on; Decorating your room
Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.
 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 
Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 
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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago
Text
Fic: Sheltered By Memories
Summary: The night after the Promised Day, there’s a thunderstorm. 
Ed hates thunderstorms. 
He can’t exactly wake Al to keep him company through it, not when he’s only just able to sleep again.
But Hohenheim’s awake, and as the weather rages outside, Ed and his father begin to tentatively rebuild the bridge between them, starting with memories of a similar storm many years ago. 
Rated: G
Sheltered by Memories
One would have expected the night after an event as momentous as the Promised Day to be clear and still, with the stars shining brightly and a big full moon. Ed knows that he can’t hope for a full moon since it was an eclipse today, but he can still be utterly furious that he’s woken up in the middle of the night to find that it’s hammering down with rain and howling a gale, with lightning flashing across the sky every five seconds and thunder rolling loud enough to wake the dead.
Ed curls up, pulling the thin hospital blanket over this head in a futile attempt to block out the storm. Across the room, Al is sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the weather outside. Ed feels a pang of something he can’t quite define. Al’s never been bothered by thunderstorms. Even when they were little kids, Al was always at ease with the weather, never flinching or cringing at the bangs and crashes and flashes. 
Al never normally sleeps through storms, though. Even back before the armour, he would always stay awake with Ed if there was a storm.
Ed can’t wake him now though. Not when he’s been unable to sleep for so long and now he finally can.
“Edward?”
Ed peers out of the blankets and as the next flash of lightning plunges the room into brightness again, he sees Hohenheim sitting in the chair at the foot of Al’s bed. 
“Hohenheim? How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been here the whole time, you just weren’t awake.”
“Oh.” Ed’s not exactly surprised. After the adrenaline of the final battle with Father and that final trip to the Gate to get Al back had worn off, he’d all but collapsed. He has a vague memory of Hohenheim catching him before he hit the ground, and the haziness of waking up in this bed a few times before the thunder started and woke him properly. He thinks he can be forgiven for not paying attention. 
Hohenheim gets up and comes across to perch on the edge of Ed’s bed. 
“Your mother hated storms too,” he says. “I remember the big storm of ‘02. Al slept right through it and the rest of us had a terrible night.”
It’s jarring to hear Hohenheim talk about events from Ed’s childhood that Ed himself can’t remember. He missed so much of their lives that it’s easy to think that he wasn’t paying any attention to any of it, and easy to forget that he was there until Ed was five, however much he might have stayed in the background. 
That said, now that he’s mentioned it, Ed does have a vague memory of being three years old on a night like this one, and tiptoeing into his parents’ bedroom because the light was on. He remembers Mom curled up tight against Dad (because he was still Dad back then, he hadn’t left yet and lost the right to that name), her fists pulling his undershirt out of shape and mangling it more with every flash of lightning. He remembers crawling into bed with them and Dad pulling him in close, one arm around Ed and one around Mom, keeping both of them safe from the storm. 
“I forgot Mom was scared of lightning.” He feels bad about it. How could he have forgotten something like that? He tries to reason with himself - it’s been ten years since she died, he was so young, Resembool so rarely gets thunderstorms like this one - but he still feels a gnawing guilt at having forgotten something about Mom.
“It’s all right. Trisha was always so brave and strong. It’s hard to believe she was ever scared of anything.”
The lightning flashes again, illuminating Hohenheim’s face. He’s off in the middle distance, deep in memories of Mom, but he’s there, and against all the odds, Ed feels safe. His heart is still leaping to his mouth with every roiling rumble of thunder, but he’s not alone, and Hohenheim doesn’t mock his fear. 
Strange. Just as he can’t really believe Mom was ever scared of anything, he can’t really imagine Hohenheim being scared of anything either. Maybe it’s because he was always so distant, always concentrating on something else. The only emotion Ed can remember on him from his childhood is frowning.
“What are you scared of?” he asks presently. 
Hohenheim doesn’t answer for a long time.
“My worst fear came true,” he says eventually. “So I don’t think I’m scared of anything now. I lost you and Al and your mother. I think that was always what I was most scared of.”
There’s a kind of catharsis in hearing him admit that. He and Ed and Al are all in the same room and all three of them are alive and comparatively well, but he still admits that he’s lost them, that he messed up royally when he left. Even though Ed now understands why he did it and why he didn’t really have another choice, that he would definitely have lost them all if he hadn’t done anything, it still soothes the sting of it all. 
“Did Mom know?” Ed asks. “About the souls, and Father, and the Promised Day and everything?”
Hohenheim nods. “Not all of it. She knew about the souls. I didn’t think it was entirely courteous to start a relationship without her knowing about the several thousand voices in my head. She knew I was immortal. That’s why we made that promise; that I’d find a way to get back to normal and she’d outlive me. She knew about Homunculus, because I’d told her the story of how I got this way. I didn’t tell her about the Promised Day and why I had to leave. She knew I had to do something that only I could do, but I didn’t want to worry her with the scope of it.”
“She always believed you were coming back. Even right at the end.”
“I always was coming back.” The lightning flashes, and Hohenheim’s eyes look old, every one of those four hundred odd years showing in his expression. “I didn’t realise I would be gone for so long, but I was always going to come back. I dared to hope that once it was all over, we could have a normal life and not need to worry about anything again.”
Outside, the storm continues to rage, and Hohenheim continues to watch it calmly, just taking it in.
“I think it’s fitting that it’s storming tonight,” he says. “Washing away the old, getting rid of it all in one big rumbling explosion. Nature’s last act of violence to drown out the violence of the old world and make way for something new and peaceful. There’s always sun after a storm.”
Ed huffs, pulling the blankets up again. “There’d better be.”
Hohenheim smiles. “There will be.”
Ed closes his eyes, the bright flashes and sudden cracks of thunder no longer making him shiver. Even as he’s drifting off, he can feel that Hohenheim’s still sitting on the bed, still watching the storm. 
Still there. 
X
The sky is bright blue and sunny without a cloud in it when Ed wakes up. The birds are singing and the dissonance from the previous night is almost mocking. Still, the storm is over, and the rest of their lives can now begin in calmness, just as Hohenheim said last night. 
Ed sits up, looking around. Al is still asleep, and Hohenheim is nowhere to be found, but Izumi is sitting in the chair. She gives him a tired smile. 
“Hey Ed.”
“Hi, Teacher. Where’d Hohenheim go?”
“The men’s room. And I think he’s probably searching for coffee as well.”
“Oh.” It’s such a mundane explanation for his absence and Ed has no idea why he was expecting something more weird and wonderful other than the fact his father seems to be a magnet for the weird and wonderful.
Ed is prevented from any further contemplation by the sound of Al yawning from the other bed. He scrunches his face up before he opens his eyes, and Ed’s missed that goofy expression so much. 
“Hey. Welcome back.”
“Hey.” Al looks over at Ed, and then at Izumi. “Hi Teacher.”
“Hey Al.”
“Was there a storm last night? I think I remember hearing thunder at one point.”
Ed laughs. “Yeah, it was ridiculous. I’m amazed you slept through it. Guess you really needed a nap, huh.”
“Yeah. I hadn’t realised how much I enjoy sleeping.” Al stretches out his thin arms and looks over at Ed again. “You could have woken me. I wouldn’t have minded.”
Ed shakes his head. “I think the nurses would probably have minded. You need all the sleep you can get to get your strength back. I was ok. Da-- Hohenheim was here.”
Al quirks an eyebrow at the slip but doesn’t say anything, and it’s another expression that Ed’s missed. He’s always known when Al’s making that face, even in the armour, there’s something in his silence that Ed knows equates to that little quirk, but at the same time, it’s so good to finally see it again. 
There’s a knock on the door and Sig and Hohenheim come in bearing coffee, handing off a mug each to Izumi and Ed. 
Hohenheim smiles on seeing Al awake. 
“Good morning Al. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thanks. Honestly just any sleep is amazing right now.”
“We did check with the nurses but no coffee for Al,” Sig adds. “It’s good to see you awake, kid.” 
“That’s ok.” Al waves the arm with the IV line in. “Probably for the best right now.”
Ed just sits quietly, sipping his coffee, watching them all. It’s going to be strange now; his life has been completely turned on its head, but he knows that no matter what, he’s got Al to see him through it, and it seems like Hohenheim’s going to stick around. Maybe before Ed wouldn’t have wanted him to; they’ve got this far without him, they don’t need him going forward. But this is a time for new beginnings, and maybe a time for his feelings finally beginning to thaw, now that he knows Hohenheim takes that responsibility that has so long lain on Ed’s shoulders, now that he’s taking back that burden that has been Ed’s to bear alone for so long. 
It doesn’t undo everything that’s already been done and suffered; those memories will always be there and will always be painful. 
But it’s a start, and that’s all they need.
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iffeelscouldkill · 4 years ago
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this is the place that they pull you to
A/N: I would say “my hand slipped” but this actually took me like a week to write xD
This is a post-season 2 episode 1 fic, so, here be spoilers! Basically I was talking to @dragonsthough101 about how I was expecting more emotional fallout on McCabe’s end from all of the conflict and tensions in episode 1 and the putdowns from Arkady, and while I’m sure we will get that in the podcast, it also occurred to me that I could... write that :D and thus *flourishes hands*
Title is taken from Wires by Savlonic, because I was listening to it and I realised it’s actually a very good song for RJ, both under the Regime and after. And now I earworm myself whenever I work on this fic xD
---
Once the door to RJ’s room on the Iris II has slid shut behind them and the red ‘lock’ light has engaged, they let out a shaky breath.
Then, only then, do they allow their lower lip to tremble.
RJ shuffles over to the bed – more like a cot really, but that’s long-haul space travel for you – and drops down onto it. Park’s words from earlier are looping inside their head. “I hope you’re right. But honestly, in this moment, McCabe? I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”
RJ lets out another shaky breath that’s closer to a sob, and blinks back the tears that are forming in their eyes. It doesn’t completely work, and a couple escape and track down their cheeks. RJ smears them away with the palm of their hand. “Get a grip, McCabe,” they mutter angrily to themself. Sure, they might be alone in their room right now, but they know better than to feel like it’s safe to relax or let go. Someone could be by any minute to check on them, or there might be a situation that requires all crew members to come to the mess hall, or the cockpit, and then how will RJ explain their red eyes and wrung-out demeanour?
It’s not safe to let their guard down. It hasn’t been for weeks. Even around Park, the one person on this vessel RJ knows they can trust, RJ feels – off-kilter, like they’re lagging a step behind everything. RJ is still trying to get used to not addressing him as “Agent”, to figure out what they can and can’t say now, to navigate their new relationship. As friends – but are they friends? Does Park even like RJ, outside of the context of them working together under the Republic?
It seems uncharitable to think, and RJ and Park had always had a good relationship as colleagues – they hadn’t been close, and Park had seemed pretty inscrutable to RJ at first, but then they’d got used to his way of working and communicating. Figured out how to make him crack a smile. Drawn some praise from him, even, and realised that underneath everything he was a caring person, and a good boss.
But RJ had also thought – been sure – that Park was loyal to the Republic, so how well did they really know him? Know this Park? And Park has been treating them… warily, especially these past few days. Not coldly or poorly, but a little bit at arm’s length. Like he isn’t sure what they might do. Like he doesn’t trust them, even though RJ trusts Park totally – to the point where they were willing to throw over their whole career, everything they’d worked so hard for, and follow him onto the Iris II.
Granted, they also hadn’t had a lot of other options at that time, but RJ still isn’t sure they would have made the same decision if Park hadn’t been there.
And yet here they both are, and Park is already a fixture in the cockpit, watching the controls when Tripat- when Sana or Krejjh needs a break, having apparently built up some experience as a co-pilot for long-haul transports after serving in the military (yet another thing that RJ didn’t know about him). And he’s comfortable enough with the crew to be on bantering terms with them, to suggest plans involving decommissioned government satellites. Whereas RJ…
“Cram it, McCabe!”
RJ’s lip trembles again, this time in earnest. And RJ would like to pretend that these are angry tears, or frustrated or indignant tears, but they’re really not. RJ wants to be angry, to stand their ground and fire back and give as good as they get and somehow manage to verbally earn the others’ respect; to be seen as a person instead of a suspect or a liability. But they’ve struck the wrong chord every time. RJ is sick of the awkward tension every time they’re in the room; sick of Arkady’s prickly snappishness and Sana’s increasingly weary peacemaking; sick of the unspoken communication between the crew that they can’t parse.
It doesn’t help to realise that the crew must have got practiced at that during the weeks they spent evading the IGR’s scrutiny before they made landing on New Jupiter. At least Park could say he hadn’t been there by that point. But McCabe had, headphones on, straining to parse something from every off-handed comment, every loaded silence.
Park wasn’t there because he was being tortured in Zone Z, McCabe thinks, and abruptly feels sick. Sick at the thought, and sick of themself for – not thinking, for even considering for a split second that Park might be somehow better off. After being imprisoned, cut off from his friends and family, tortured and maimed by a government he’d spent years of his life serving.
The same government that he believes RJ was thinking of selling them out to.
This realisation steals the breath from RJ’s lungs with a whoosh, and all of a sudden they don’t feel sick, or indignant, or hurt – they just feel cold.
RJ hadn’t been able to explain to Park in the moment exactly what they’d been thinking by withholding the information about the Fowleys being bugged and monitored (because of course they were). When the ‘offer’ from Jay Fowley had first come through, the crew hadn’t been desperate enough to seriously consider it, and by the time they were… well, they’d been on the verge of figuring things out anyway. And RJ had been feeling angry, and vindictive, and not in the mood to volunteer anything that would aid the crew; not when doing that had got them into this mess in the first place.
And maybe in the back of their mind, a voice had been whispering that they should keep their options open. It’s a voice that gets louder in the dark, when RJ is lying awake on their bunk, unable to sleep for replaying those moments in the corridor, the way that it felt like the ground was falling out from under them as Goodman denounced them and Park as defectors. It gets louder whenever RJ clashes with Arkady, whenever they catch uncertain glances from the other crew members, whenever RJ wanders the corridors of this godforsaken claustrophobic ship and realises that this is it now. This is their whole life.
But they never thought about how that might look to Park. It’s like in RJ’s head there are somehow two Republics: the one that would be capable of doing such horrible things to Park – to any person, much less one who hadn’t been demonstrably proven guilty – and the one that RJ had dedicated their career to serving, that they had believed was just and good and right.
RJ wants to find him and apologise, to try and explain, to share some of the fears and secret thoughts that have been curdling on the back of their tongue these past weeks.
But Park told them to get some rest, and RJ has enough awareness to realise that there’s a much higher chance of the conversation turning out well if they sleep a while first. So, reluctantly, RJ toes off their shoes and shrugs off their vest, and wriggles underneath the taut blanket attached to the bunk.
Either they’ve reached some kind of peace with themself or they’re more exhausted than they realised, because sleep overtakes them in minutes.
---
RJ is woken by a knocking at the door: light and tentative at first, and then firmer and louder. As always, it takes a moment for their brain to catch up with their surroundings: the hard bunk beneath them, followed by the bare walls of their room, still unadorned (RJ wasn’t exactly carrying any personal belongings when they fled CUI Headquarters, and the ship hadn’t made any stops since. Not that RJ knows what they would put in their room anyway. There hadn’t been much to leave behind on New Jupiter). RJ sits up and rubs an arm across their eyes, then goes to answer the door.
It’s Violet. RJ clamps down on the reflexive urge to say something like, ‘Did you draw the short straw?’, or maybe, ‘Did they send you to manage me?’ Violet doesn’t look like she’s here under duress, and to RJ’s memory, she’s not a particularly good actor.
“Hi,” they say instead.
“Hi,” Violet replies with a little smile. There’s always a weird dissonance – though RJ would never, ever bring this up – that comes from hearing the voices of the Rumor crew come out of the mouths of actual people instead of a recording. “How did you sleep?”
“Uh…” RJ thinks back, and is surprised to find that the answer is ‘well’. They actually feel… slightly refreshed. “Fine.” Belatedly, they tack on, “Thank you.”
“That’s good to hear.” Violet smiles again. She’s never been unfriendly to RJ, but these past several days, she’s seemed more on edge, more prone to sarcastic retorts, less willing to make peace between them and Patel- Arkady. RJ had believed that her patience was slowly fraying, that like the rest of the crew, she was only willing to put up with the new additions to the ship for a certain amount of time and that she’d stop pretending before long. But now, taking in Violet’s looser posture, the way some of the lines around her eyes and mouth have eased, RJ realises it had never had anything to do with them. Violet had been worried about the supplies. About her… medical emergency.
Speaking of supplies… “Did Park tell you what we wanted to add to the list?” RJ asks, figuring they’d better add a bit of verisimilitude to the excuse that Park had used to speak to RJ alone.
Violet’s smile widens. “He did. I definitely agree about replenishing our coffee supplies – though, I don’t know what kind of quality you’re used to, because I should warn you that the black market kind – the affordable black market kind, anyway – is pretty bad. We get non-freeze-dried coffee whenever we can, but out here…” Violet shrugs as if to say, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’.
RJ manages to suppress a wince at the term “black market”. This is your life, now, RJ, they remind themself for the thousandth time. “That’s okay. The stuff in the IGR breakrooms was basically dreck. I can drink pretty much anything.” RJ is no coffee lover, but they drink it for the caffeine. Pretty much everyone in the Republic has a caffeine addiction or develops one at some point – no way to get through eighteen-hour shifts without it.
Violet chuckles a little. “It was always the same at my lab internships. I guess bad breakroom coffee is pretty universal.”
RJ recognises that she’s trying to bond with them by referencing shared experiences of working for the Republic. It’s not the first time she’s done it. But RJ still has trouble seeing their circumstances as equivalent.
Violet is – had been – a scientist, not an Agent; not one of the IGR’s most loyal, tasked with the defence of the Republic. She’d never had access to classified briefings; hadn’t dedicated her life to tracking down and apprehending insurgent forces. And given that the Rumor crew had deceived her into entering the cryo chamber, she could argue that she’d been duped – and had only co-operated in order to save her own life. Well, the argument would hold water up until Elion, anyway.
It wasn’t the same.
The silence hangs for a few moments, before RJ prompts her, “Did you want to… ask me something?”
“Sorry, yes – I came to tell you that dinner’s ready and uh, we’re about to eat in the mess hall if you’d like to join us.” Violet smiles again, with a touch of nervousness this time. No doubt she’s expecting a caustic brush-off.
“Is it veggie stew?” RJ can’t help asking, with a slight nose wrinkle. They’re expecting a rebuke from Violet, some kind of warning about being grateful for what they have, but instead she laughs.
“Unfortunately. On the bright side, though, it’s only for a couple more days and then we’ll be able to have actual flavourings again.”
RJ almost smiles, and is surprised when they catch themself. And – they were going to decline, make an excuse about continuing their nap, because they’re still feeling off-kilter and they doubt that Arkady will be thrilled to be spending time in close quarters with them so soon, but – they think about Park’s talk with them in the hallway. About how they’ve spent the past few weeks dodging any kind of connection with the rest of the crew, anything that will put them past, in RJ’s mind, the point of no return – and where exactly that’s got them.
“Sure,” says RJ. “Just let me, uh…”
They put a hand up to their hair, realising that it must be sticking up in all directions after their nap. Short hair is gratifyingly easy to take care of, but it sure does have interesting ideas about gravity.
“I have a comb you can borrow, if you need it?” Violet offers.
“It’s fine,” RJ declines automatically. “Park-”
They catch themself, wondering why it feels like such a concession to accept even this tiny piece of help from someone other than Park. They think about their bare room, empty of any personal possessions.
“I’m okay right now,” they say slowly. “But… is it too late to add something to the shopping list?”
Violet blinks, clearly surprised, and then smiles brightly. “Not at all.”
---
Five minutes later, hair tamed and clothes straightened, RJ makes their way towards the mess hall, which adjoins the kitchen. They haven’t spent much time in here so far – there’d been a couple of communal dinners at first, which quickly gave way to the reality of shifts ending at disparate times and the need to simply grab food however and whenever people could, something RJ had been grateful for.
Once, on their way to the kitchen, they’d walked in on Violet and Arkady having what looked like a picnic at the table in the centre of the room, just the two of them. That had been awkward for everyone. Since then, RJ has taken to finding their food and snacks at times when they know most of the crew are otherwise occupied.
Everyone else is already there and making more noise than you would think a group of six people could generate. Brian is in the kitchen, ladling bland servings of stew into the uniform polypropylene bowls that they’d found stacked inside the cupboards. Krejjh stands next to him, loudly enthusing about the virtues of the stew to anyone within earshot. Violet and Sana are waiting to be served, while Arkady – who has just been handed a full bowl by Brian – rolls her eyes and makes sarcastic comments as she carries it through to the mess hall. There, Park is sitting in one of the bolted-down chairs, watching the whole scene with a slightly raised eyebrow and waiting, if RJ had to guess, for the general hubbub to die down before he goes to get his food.
RJ pads over and slides into the chair on the same side as Park’s good eye. Park turns his head slightly, giving them a quick once-over, almost too brief to catch. “Hi,” he says quietly. “How was your nap?”
RJ hesitates over what to say. “It helped,” they reply. “Park, can we… talk? After dinner?”
The tiniest of frowns creases Park’s forehead. “Sure,” he says. “Everything all right?”
RJ nods, drumming their fingers on the tabletop and meeting Violet’s gaze as she comes over to sit next to Arkady, giving RJ a friendly smile. They don’t quite return it, but… it’s not as unwelcome as it would have been, before.
“Yeah,” they say to Park. “It’s fine.”
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skybird13 · 5 years ago
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What Went Wrong With Clover and Qrow: The Writing Pt. 1
And What CRWBY Could Have Done Better
[Spoilers for all of RWBY Vol. 7]
Now that the final episode for RWBY volume 7 has aired (for first members, at least) and I’ve had over a week to throw my tantrum and air my more emotional grievances, I think now is the perfect time to delve into the mechanics of what I believe went wrong when it came to episode 12, particularly in regards to the writing itself. For those of you who have been following my blog for any length of time, it should come as no surprise to you that in order to do this, we have to go all the way back to the beginning of the volume and break things down. For the rest of you... this is going to be a long post. In fact, it ended up being so long, I’m going to break it down into four parts, focusing on three episodes each up to episode 12.
There are a lot of layers to the anger and hurt surrounding Clover’s death. And while my emotional reaction is still very much there, I really do want to take the time to do this so that people can better understand at least one of those layers. I won’t be getting too much into the shipping aspect in this post or even the queer coding that I personally perceived in Clover’s character. Rather, I’m going to be analyzing the writing decisions and offering my personal suggestions for how CRWBY could have tweaked things to make the events in episode 12, as they happened, far more feasible (i.e. foreshadow Clover’s behavior and remove the flirting, primarily). 
Note: This is a critique. I’m not going for negativity here but rather for constructive criticism, where I’ll be acknowledging what CRWBY did well alongside what they could have done better. If you read to the end of part 4 of this series, you’ll find that even after everything, a part of me still very much wants to give CRWBY the benefit of the doubt.
So, without further ado, here we go.
Episode 1 - Clover’s Introduction
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I made a whole post breaking down and analyzing Clover’s introductory scenes in episode 1 where I focused pretty heavily on the animation and the framing. You can read it here if you’d like, but to summarize, the way these scenes play out makes it very clear that Qrow and Clover are going to be linked somehow. These scenes worked, and even in light of the events in episode 12, they still work because things are left pretty open. We have no idea if Qrow and Clover are going to like one another, much less get along to any degree. We just know that we, the audience, are meant to connect them. These scenes, in fact, were done incredibly well.
As far as writing goes, they don’t say a whole lot to one another. In fact, Clover doesn’t speak to Qrow directly at all and the only thing Qrow says is:
“Hey, pal, I’m a licensed Huntsman. Just helped save everyone?”
So... pretty par for the course there. Nothing that really needs to be addressed. This is totally something we expect Qrow to say.
So let’s take a look at Clover’s dialogue. I don’t want to quote every single line, at least not in this particular scene, so I’ll just pull out a few that I think do a great job of setting up his character.
In response to Dr. Polendina asking what the Ace Ops are doing in Mantle:
“Well, we heard a report of an unauthorized ship making an unauthorized landing, followed by an unauthorized use of weapons by non-licensed Huntsmen.”
In response to Dr. Polendina wanting to talk it out:
“They’ll be able to talk this out once they get up to Atlas.”
This is a fantastic bit of writing because it establishes several things at once. 
1) Clover is lawful good. The reasons he lists for being there, and the way he emphasizes the “unauthorized” nature of it all, makes it pretty clear that he’s there to do his job. He doesn’t respond to Qrow or even check him for a license, and he rebuffs Dr. Polendina’s desire to talk things out right there. Clover arrests the teams because in his eyes they were breaking the law, and that’s all he really needs to know.
2) It sets him up as Qrow’s opposite in ideology, which is a great way to mirror the opposite Semblance reveal later. 
 3) It also introduces the possibility of negative tension between him and Qrow. The problem with this is that this tension is never once realized throughout the rest of the volume. In fact, the complete opposite happens and they get along very well. My biggest critique here is that CRWBY absolutely put themselves in a position where episode 12 could have made more sense but then never took it anywhere. Instead, they focused on building up their relationship as a positive thing. 
Problem Tally For This Episode: 0.5. There’s really nothing I would have changed about this particular scene because I think it was very nicely done. Things are introduced and set up but left ambiguous enough that we have no idea how things between Qrow and Clover are going to go. The 0.5 is an acknowledgment of the potential set up for the episode 12 conflict that went unused. 
Suggested Changes Tally For This Episode: 0
Episode 2 - Making Amends
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(^^ I had to go with this screenshot, Clover’s expression is way too good XD)
The end of episode 2 is the first time we see Clover and the other Ace Ops since they arrested the main cast down in Mantle. And... this is where things start to go wrong. Or, perhaps it would be better to say, this is where things could have gone differently. While Clover and Qrow don’t interact in this episode, there are still some key decisions made in regards to Clover’s character.
I’ll pull out the relevant lines and analyze them as we go, then offer up my suggestions for changes.
When the Teams come down the stairs after their meeting with James, Clover approaches them and says:
“I’d like to sincerely apologize for the miscommunication down in Mantle. We didn’t intend to-” 
We never learn what it was they “didn’t intend” to do because Elm cuts him off when she practically body-checks him out of the way 😆 But the wording of this line immediately shifts our perspective on Clover a little. He’s no longer behaving like the stringent, unapologetic law enforcer, but is instead acknowledging that he and his team probably messed up a little by not listening/talking to the Teams. It’s a small thing, but it’s our first hint that while he is lawful good, he is by no means unreasonable or unreachable. Contrast him with Cordovin in volume 6 who listens to absolutely nothing, doesn’t apologize, and never budges in her determination to stop the Teams until she has no other choice.
Now, because writing often relies on the tension between various characters’ lines, and because characters are often defined by those around them as much as by what they themselves say, I think it’s important to have a transcript of the following exchange between Ruby, Weiss, Elm, Marrow, and Clover:
Elm: I feel so bad, honestly! If we had known who you were, we’d be laughing over a hot meal right now and--
Ruby: I understand. You were just following orders.
Weiss: I mean, you could have asked us some questions first.
Marrow: Questions are for the weak, but we’re all on the same team now. Not that I’m happy about it.
Clover: We just wanted to say we’re sorry, and that we’re looking forward to working with you on our next mission. You might be students, but you’ve been fighting just as hard as we have, if not harder.
There’s quite a bit to tease out here. Some of it good, some of it not so great in terms of the larger picture and the events in episode 12.
First of all, Elm apologizes. This functions as a reflection on Clover. Good writers find ways to define and build character through the people around them as much as from the character’s own actions and behavior. As the team leader, you expect Clover’s teammates to have picked up on some of his more prominent characteristics and ways of thinking. The fact that Elm not only apologizes but insinuates that knowing who the Teams were would have changed the decisions made in Mantle, suggests a certain level of flexibility. It can also be argued that this foreshadows the fact that at least one of them will go through a change thanks to their association with the Teams. On a deep writing level, that foreshadowing is there, and I’ll make an argument in just a second for why Clover is set up to be that changed character.
But first, let’s look at Ruby and Weiss’s lines, which both serve well to introduce the fundamental difference between themselves and the Ace Ops: “make it up as we go” RWBY, JNOR, and Qrow as opposed to “arrest now ask questions later” Ace Ops. This is good. This works well as the first hint that conflict between them is possible. I have no complaints here.
And then we get to Marrow’s line. This is where things get a little murky but maybe that was the intent. He’s definitely posturing for his team, which is behavior that he exhibits throughout the volume. As the youngest member and the only Faunus on the Ace Ops, this line does a good job of exhibiting that he really wants to fit in with the others, and as such it also doubles as a second peek into the “ask questions later” ideology that the Ace Ops hold as a group. Which is probably something that trickles down from Clover himself, considering he’s the leader. This, also, is fine and works well.
But then....
Clover apologizes again. He doesn’t correct Marrow but doesn’t agree with him either. He doesn’t acknowledge Marrow’s assertions at all. He apologizes to the Teams and this simple act works to reinforce the shift in our perception that he’s possibly more flexible and open to admitting his own mistakes than we might have thought in his episode 1 introduction. And this is the very beginning of the dissonance so many of us felt in his behavior in episode 12.
Suggested Change #1: 
My first suggested fix is to change the way that Clover’s second apology is framed by changing his initial apology. Even though he gets cut off by Elm, his first instinct is to apologize for the miscommunication in Mantle. Not only does this tie in so well with one of the primary themes of the volume (miscommunication in all its manifestations), it also indicates that Clover’s character itself is tied to that theme. But his acknowledgment that they probably should have asked some questions immediately frames him as a character who is going to change in terms of that theme. The “we didn’t intend to--” part only adds weight to this hint.
So how could they have fixed this? There are a multitude of possibilities but here is the best I came up with:
>>“I’d like to sincerely apologize for what happened earlier. We were only--”
Do you see the big differences here? Two major things change by altering only a few words. First, in this line, Clover does not acknowledge that he and the Ace Ops made a mistake by not asking questions. He’s still be apologizing for what happened but he's not admitting any fault on his or his team’s part. This would have reaffirmed our initial impression of him as a rigid rule follower, rather than dismantling it a little. Second, the “we were only” would have indicated that, despite his apology, he planned to justify their actions. Again, this would have worked very well to maintain the strict lawful good vibe we get from him initially. These minor alterations would have been subtle enough but strong enough to continue building up to the conflict between him and Qrow in episode 12.
Suggested Change #2:
If you don’t want to change that initial apology, change what he says after Marrow speaks. Have him acknowledge Marrow’s assertions that questions aren’t their thing. You could even have done this through animation with a slight nod or a laugh, but since we’re talking about writing, here is one suggestion:
>>“In our line of work, taking the time to ask questions can sometimes be dangerous. I’m sure you can relate. Regardless, we just wanted to say we’re sorry.” 
Again, do you see the difference between this and what we got? What we got brings out the possibility that Clover is somewhat malleable. This, on the other hand, effectively but subtly reinforces his “by the books” mentality, which is exactly what CRWBY needed in order to justify his behavior towards Qrow in episode 12.
I have no suggestions for changes to the lines of the other characters. I think those lines function well in pushing against each other and maintaining a level of tension all around, and they’re necessary for building up to the RWBY vs. Ace Ops conflict. But two very minor and simple changes to Clover’s lines would have continued that initial setup for the episode 12 conflict that was established in episode 1. Instead, CRWBY starts to dissolve it from the get-go.
Problem Tally for this Episode: 1 The biggest problem in this episode is really that Clover’s character immediately starts to shift from “strict inflexible rule follower” to someone who can admit he made a mistake and should probably behave a little differently in the future. 
Suggested Changes Tally for this Episode: 2
Episode 3 - Aaaaaand Here We Go
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This section is going to be loooong. Not only do we get a lot of Clover in this episode, but we get a ton of him and Qrow together. In other words, we get the first beats of their relationship (again, I won’t be arguing for the shipping aspects, because I’ve done that in other posts and you all know where I stand on that, but their relationship, regardless of its nature, is vital to this analysis).
The first scenes we get in this episode are of Clover briefing Qrow, Jaune, and Ruby about the mission. A lot of it is pretty basic and does a good job of establishing him as an organized, efficient military leader. He’s clearly smart and knowledgable with his strategy. 
The first line that really stood out to me in this sequence is the one where he is talking about the Geist:
“But recon has identified a powerful Geist that’s managed to evade destruction and take several lives.” 
And this pretty much just serves to establish that lost life is a concern for him. A very good thing to know. It adds a little depth to his character.
After this, we get: 
“General Ironwood says you’ve seen your fair share of combat. I trust that man with my life, so tomorrow, I’ll be trusting you all too.”
This is actually a great line for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, it establishes his trust in and bond with Ironwood. It’s a line that gets a lot of emphasis both in delivery and in terms of placement (it comes at the end of his monologue), and it’s one that returns in episode 12 as a sort-of justification for Clover’s actions. This particular line also suggests that his trust in the Teams and Qrow, as of this moment, is dependent upon Ironwood’s opinion of them. He trusts them because Ironwood has vouched for them and not because he has any reasons of his own to do so. This actually works really well and I wouldn’t suggest a change. 
The problem in the narrative again comes from what happens outside of this line. The tension suggested here is never carried forward or built upon. In light of this, and because of the direction his relationship with Qrow takes, this line doesn’t work well as a foreshadowing of his actions in episode 12. Rather, its narrative function falls more in line with hinting at the potential for change that was introduced in episode 2. It does do a good job of setting up Clover as the one who is going to have to make a choice between his absolute trust in Ironwood and something else (whether that’s his own judgment or his trust in Qrow or whatever), but because of the writing outside of this line, it completely fails to build up to the events in episode 12 in a way that is convincing. In fact, it does the complete opposite. Because of this line and the way Clover is written in the rest of the volume, we are set up to expect an internal struggle from him in episode 12, not blind obedience. 
Moving on to the scene where he and Qrow have their first one-on-one interactions. As you can probably predict, here is where things start to go to absolute shit. Up to this point, CRWBY still had what they needed to pull off episode 12 without it feeling ridiculously contrived. Sure, they played around with Clover’s character a little, gave us enough nuance in his narrative to potentially pique our curiosity, but they hadn’t passed the point of no return yet. Here, however, is where they start to.
Because of that, I’m going to quote large chunks of the script between Qrow and Clover, and pull it apart as best I can. Here is their very first conversation of the entire volume:
Qrow: Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other Huntsmen in the field.
Clover: But you were on a team before, weren’t you?
Qrow: (sighs) Long time ago. I just found working alone tends to be for the best.
Clover: Well, I think that’s a shame.
[Qrow slips and nearly falls before Clover catches him.]
So there are actually quite a few things going on here and they all contribute to the overall problem with the writing in this volume. 
First of all, despite Qrow’s previously established dislike for the Atlas military in earlier volumes, and despite being arrested by Clover in episode 1, there is zero animosity or negative tension here. He seems more than willing to work with Clover and is even comfortable enough to initiate conversation and open up a bit. There is nothing of plot relevance in this scene. It is solely and specifically meant to give us the first hint of what their relationship is going to be like.
The major problem I have with this, in terms of the overall story that pans out between these two, is that CRWBY already had an inbuilt way to introduce a little negative tension. They could have easily called back to Qrow’s not-so-great opinions about Atlas military huntsmen, even if not overtly, and that would have worked really well as a stepping stone to the episode 12 conflict. But that’s not what we get.
Instead, Qrow opens up about something personal (being alone) and Clover is shown to be sympathetic. Clover’s sympathy here is another major mistake made by CRWBY when we take into account one of Clover’s lines in episode 12. I’m not going to watch it right now to get the exact wording, but it’s something along the lines of “There’s that cynicism of yours”. It’s a line that comes across as cruel and impatient, and it comes out of absolutely nowhere thanks in particular to the exchange above, their interactions later in this episode, and the episode 5 truck scene.
Right here is where CRWBY had the opportunity to at least partially rectify that very specific problem, but it doesn’t happen. We are given no indication that Clover thinks any less of Qrow for this reveal, and are instead given a glimpse at the patience and kindness that he is capable of. 
Suggested Change #3:
The easiest way to fix this would have been to remove Clover’s sympathy, or at least insert a little condescension into it. This could have been done without making him an outright ass, and therefore CRWBY would have been able to keep us invested in at least wondering where this is going to go between them while simultaneously giving us one of the hints needed to make episode 12 believable. All it would have taken was altering Clover’s final line in that exchange. 
Here are a few possibilities:
>> “Hmm” - delivered in a way that communicates his judgment or at least something noncommital
>> “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.” - critical
>> “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” - dismissive, condescending
>> “I have a hard time believing that.” - dismissive
>> “Is that right.” - dismissive, condescending
>> He says nothing and it’s up to the animators to communicate his judgment.
Suggested Change #4:
The slightly more difficult change they could have made here would have been utilizing Qrow’s established distaste for authority and the Atlas military in general. Here is one potential way that could have gone:
>> Qrow:  Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other Huntsmen in the field.
Clover: But you were on a team before, weren’t you?
Qrow: Long time ago. Playing with others isn’t really my thing. I found working alone tends to be for the best.
Clover: Well, I think that’s a shame.
In this case, you could keep Clover’s last line because instead of Qrow opening up and being vulnerable, he’s actually being a bit more antagonistic, which would have been plausible given his behavior towards Winter and James in volume 3. Clover’s line, in this context, becomes much more ambiguous and open to interpretation, which would have fed well into the episode 12 build-up. 
Moving on again to their next interaction in the mines right after the Geist escapes:
Clover: Thaks for the call-out. That could have been bad.
Qrow: (sighs) I wouldn’t thank me. My Semblance brings misfortune. Sometimes I can’t keep it under control.
Clover: That so? Well, hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. My Semblance is good fortune. Lucky you, huh? 
Again, there is quite a bit going on, not only in these lines but in the lead-up as well, so in order to maintain perspective, I’m going to backtrack just a bit to when Clover caught Qrow after he slipped on the ice. The next major beat in their relationship after that event is Qrow warning Clover to prevent him from getting crushed by a falling beam. 
These two things paired so closely together suggest that real trust is starting to develop between them. It’s not trust vouched for by someone else, but the trust that comes from being in a dangerous situation together and coming through for one another. At the bare minimum, the foundation for trust is laid here and with nothing to undermine it (because of the writing thus far), there is no reason for the audience to doubt that it will continue to develop and strengthen. 
Then we have the lines above.
Again, Qrow opens up about something deeply personal here. He is showing unusual levels of vulnerability for him, which suggests that even if the audience doesn’t quite understand it, Qrow has found a reason to want to open up to Clover. It points towards an immediate level of comfort that we have never seen from Qrow before and that is something that can’t be ignored.
As for Clover, I suppose we could argue about the nature of his response to Qrow’s vulnerability. I know some saw it as Clover being dismissive of Qrow’s pain, and if that had been how the lines were delivered, this might have worked very well in building up to a conflict between them. This is one instance where we need to step outside the words themselves and take into consideration the aspects surrounding the words: the animation and Chris Wehkamp’s line delivery in particular (which I assume were directions written into the script).
One of the biggest problems here is that this was yet another opportunity for Clover’s impatience with Qrow’s cynicism to be established. And yet again, that’s not what we get. Instead, Clover takes Qrow’s Semblance in stride, reassures him that it’s not something he needs to worry about, and then offers up a comparable piece of information about himself: his Semblance is good fortune. There is no indication in the writing, line delivery, or animation that he finds Qrow’s attitude distasteful or annoying, and there could have been.
The other major problem with this is, again, the nature of Clover’s final line. I promised that I wouldn’t get into the shipping aspect and I won’t, but at the very least I think everyone can agree that the “Lucky you, huh?” quip at the end is intended to be friendly. This is the first time we learn something personal about Clover and it’s also the first time that his behavior towards Qrow shifts from being purely professional to something else. This shift is maintained and built upon throughout the volume and I’ll comment more about it in just a bit.
None of this builds up to what happens in episode 12. CRWBY lays the foundation for a healthy and functional relationship between these two, hints at the beginnings of real trust between them, and completely foregoes all opportunities to insert some of the negative tension that was sorely needed for episode 12 to make sense. 
Before making some suggestions for changes, I’d like to take a second to really emphasize this point: prior to these two scenes, the audience has little to no reason to believe that these two are going to get along. Clover is elite Atlas military and Qrow is... well, Qrow. We already knew everything we needed to know about them to make the inclusion of that necessary negative tension ridiculously easy. All CRWBY had to do was play them off one another in a way that leaned on this prior knowledge. This is not only sloppy writing in light of episode 12, but this is also the active and intentional subversion of our expectations where these two characters are concerned. This puts us into a bit of a quandary, really, because how can something be both careless and yet so intentionally done? It’s not a question I’m going to try to answer here but I think it’s one worth keeping in mind as we move forward.
Suggested Change #5: 
Remove the friendly/flirty nature of Clover’s final lines and instead write them in such a way that he seems a little more callous and irritated with Qrow’s attitude. Again, he doesn’t need to be such a jerk that we hate him off the bat, but including a little hint of negative emotion would not have been difficult here.
For instance:
>> Clover: That so? Well, don’t worry about it. Luckily, my Semblance is good fortune.
See how different that is? Dismissive, potentially irritated, and it brings the focus on to Clover and his Semblance rather than putting the focus on Qrow and what a good fortune Semblance might mean to him, which is how the original script functions. The very last line that I suggest also serves to put Qrow down a bit in a very subtle way rather than having Clover flirt with/be friendly towards him. It’s basically a “whatever, things will be fine despite the fact you’re here”. 
Moving on from this, we get the following:
Clover: Charlie, Bravo, you should be able to cut off the target at the heart of the mine. Qrow and I won’t be far behind.
Again, this line is a relatively small thing all on its own, but in context with the scenes that precede it, there is actually a lot more going on here than might appear at first. 
I didn’t quote it, but when Qrow and Clover first land at their assigned mine entrance, Clover refers to himself and Qrow as “Alpha Squad”. Here, that changes to “Qrow and I”. 
Not only does this support and reinforce the change in Clover’s attitude toward Qrow with the “Lucky you, huh?” line (going from professional to something else), but Qrow is specifically named. There is not only an inherent intimacy that comes with using a person’s first name, but it’s a very subtle and effective way of framing Clover and Qrow together as a pair. This further feeds into that set-up I was talking about in episode 2 where Clover is presented as the most likely character to change as a result of his association with the Teams/Qrow, particularly in the absence of negative tension and the efforts by the writers to subvert our expectations in that regard.
Do you see where things are starting to stack up in the completely wrong direction? It gets worse in just a minute but first...
How do you fix this? Again, it’s easy. Considering Clover is military and codenames are a thing heavily used, it would have made more sense for him to at least refer to the two of them as “we” or even revert to “alpha squad”. 
Suggested Change #6:
Make a slight alteration to Clover’s line so that he reverts to pure military professionalism.
>> Clover: We won’t be far behind.
>> Clover: Alpha squad won’t be far behind.
Pretty simple. Either change works. Even though the shift that comes with “Lucky you, huh” would still have thrown us off a bit, Clover’s return to his norm would have signaled to the audience that the perceived change was fragile at best, and possibly even a complete fluke of Clover’s personality. It also maintains a level of emotional distance between Clover and Qrow that we really did need for episode 12 to work. Instead, CRWBY made the choice to close that distance. Significantly. 
Now it gets worse. We go into the scene in the main chamber where Clover and the Ace Ops take down the Geist. The obvious bit of dialogue here that merits attention is Clover’s following line after catching the piece of Dust in reference to the other Ace Ops:
Clover: What would you guys do without me?
I think this line might be one of the most disappointing because it could so easily have foreshadowed Clover’s death. But instead, due to what came just before and what comes after, this line sets up an entirely different conflict. In fact, it does a beautiful job of pretty much cementing Clover as the character who will change the most because of Qrow and the Teams, and who will have to choose between Ironwood and his own moral code. Do I suggest that from here on out, him choosing Qrow over Ironwood was absolutely set in stone? Not at all. In fact, that wouldn’t have made sense for the narrative or Clover’s character. However, Clover’s unflinching blind obedience and immediate willingness to arrest Qrow in episode 12 are completely undermined by this set-up. We expect to see him struggle with that decision, regardless of the ultimate outcome, not turn into a drone who does exactly what he’s told. 
Additionally, thanks to the set-up we get throughout the volume for the RWBY vs Ace Ops fight, this line feeds into that tension in particular. The problem here is that the second we see the Ace Ops act to arrest RWBY without hesitation, this tension is resolved and we have our answer. We know exactly what they do without him and all that’s left to see is the unspoken second half of this question: What would Clover do without them? 
If I could include an illustration of how far CRWBY was leaning away from foreshadowing Clover’s death and callousness in episode 12 up to this point, we’d have ourselves a goddamn Tower of Pisa. 
There is no specific fix here because the problem isn’t with this line itself. It certainly could have functioned to foreshadow Clover’s death, but again, because of the rest of the narrative, that’s not what it ends up doing.
I want to step away from the dialogue for just a moment. I know I said I wouldn’t be focusing on animation, but considering animators take their directions from the script and storyboards, it does technically qualify as writing even if I can’t give you word-for-word what those directions were. There is something in the animation in this particular scene that we can’t ignore.
Clover’s behavior directly following the line above (he tosses the Dust to Qrow, gives him a loose and playful salute, and backward swan dives off the cliff into the pit where the Geist is) is a massive, screaming augmentation of Clover’s shift towards Qrow specifically (i.e. away from strictly professional and towards something else). The “lucky you, huh” line and the use of Qrow’s name right before this pulls us very nicely into this new dynamic.... But this dynamic is exactly the thing that makes episode 12 so outlandishly out of place.
Moving on to the final Qrow/Clover interaction for this episode. After the Geist has been defeated and Ruby makes the day-saving catch, we get this:
Qrow: Lucky catch, huh?
Clover: Hm, no. I’d chalk that one up to talent. 
One of my issues with these lines is that they serve to once more highlight the shift that has occurred between Qrow and Clover, particularly because it gives us some invaluable insight on Qrow’s feelings towards Clover’s Semblance. Here is another area where the light-hearted delivery Jason Liebrecht (Qrow’s VA) gave factors in a bit. A lot of us had no idea how Qrow was going to react to learning that someone else had a Semblance opposite to his own. He could very easily have been upset or resentful or even self-effacing, but instead, he absorbs the information, takes it in stride, and proceeds to joke about it in a way that I just realized mirrors Clover’s “Lucky you, huh?” line. This is basically Qrow shifting seamlessly into their new dynamic and accepting it. 
The other major problem here is, once again, Clover’s characterization. This has all been building up pretty badly to episode 12, as I hope I’ve illustrated, but this final exchange is really the last good chance CRWBY had to pull things back on track a bit. Only they don’t take it. They could have had Clover display a bit of arrogance or dismissiveness in this scene. It would have worked well to at least let us know that the personality he has displayed so far might be more of a front than anything, and if done right, his coldness toward Qrow in episode 12 wouldn’t have been totally unexpected. Instead, we get to see a man who gives credit where it’s due and absolutely believes that his Semblance is not everything. In other words, we get a Clover who is drastically different from the person depicted in episode 12.
Suggested Change #7:
Change Clover’s final line to clue the audience into the fact that he is not what he seems and hint at a darker personality lurking under the surface. Here are a couple of options
>> Clover: It was.
>> Clover: That’s one way to put it.
Problem Tally for this Episode: 14
Further set-up (at least 2 major instances) for Clover to be the one who changes or at least struggles with having to choose between Ironwood and Qrow/disobeying orders. Multiple instances (3 significant by my count) where Clover’s characterization fails to match what we get in episode 12. A failure to lean into the pre-established negative tension between Clover and Qrow by virtue of who they are. An active subversion of the expectations that could have easily supported that negative tension. The shift in Qrow and Clover’s relationship which is never recanted in any way, followed by no less than 4 instances of reinforcement. The beginning of the closing emotional distance between Clover and Qrow. A line that could potentially have acted as foreshadowing undermined by what comes before and after it.
Suggested Changes Tally for this Episode: 5
Total Problems so Far: 15.5
Total Suggested Changes: 7
Do you see where all the little, tiny things are starting to add up? And do you also see where only a few small changes could have been implemented to make episode 12 something that didn’t hit the audience like a freight train? The thing is, not all of these changes would have been necessary. A few of them would have sufficed.
I hope this has been helpful in shedding some light on a portion of the reason why people are so upset by what happened in episode 12. I’m going to continue this analysis as soon as I can, with the next part covering episodes 4-6. With school and everything I’m not certain how soon it will be out, but look for it sometime over the weekend or at the beginning of next week.
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radramblog · 4 years ago
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Album Discussion- The Fall of Troy
Last week I discussed an album that, more or less, was defined by looseness and empty spaces. This might as well be the polar opposite of that.
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(man no-one seems to have uploaded this album art in high res)
Released in 2003, The Fall of Troy is a self-titled mathcore/post-hardcore/screamo debut album made by 3 17 year olds- and in some ways that shows, but it’s not like they were fresh, they’d had two EPs under a different name by that point. The Fall of Troy is probably best known by their song F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X., having been featured as a bonus track in Guitar Hero III, which is notably, not on this album. Rather, their second album, Doppelganger, had a few tracks that were basically retakes of songs from this first album. But we’re not talking about Doppelganger (and I still can’t find a bloody CD of it), we’re talking about The Fall of Troy, by The Fall of Troy, so let’s bloody well dive in.
The first song on here, Rockstar Nailbomb!, is as much a statement of intent as anything I’ve ever seen. It’s starts with hoarsely screamed, incomprehensible vocals over a frenetic set of guitar riffs, that cuts back into a more traditional song structure, you know, after a bit. Like any good opener, it’s introducing what you’re going to be getting from the album- songs that, while extremely energetic, tend to cut between sung vocals and screamed ones at a moment’s notice, complex and overlapping guitar riffs, and a very deliberately unpolished sound. The technical skill on display is incredible considering the age of the band, as well. For such a short song, Rockstar Nailbomb! goes in some real places, closing with a line that would be appropriate to finish off the album as a whole- but of course, we’re just getting started.
The next song is called Spartacus, and it shows off the talent of the drummer in a way that the previous didn’t. Unfortunately, I almost feel like this song was kind of a half-formed idea, considering it’s a minute and a quarter long, and the…squeal…? Near the end is kind of offputting. A mid one.
Oh boy it wouldn’t be a nerd band without ridiculous track names- next up is The Circus That Has Brought Us Back to These Nights (Yo Chocola), and no I don’t fucking know what that means. This one ironically feels the most like a song than the others before it, a slightly more traditional structure, the screaming and singing vocals forming something of a call-and-response that would probably make more sense if I could understand the lyrics half the time. Despite this, it’s no less speedy, frantic, and intricate, mixes between melody and dissonance that are basically the band’s signature.
The fourth track is named Mouths Like Sidewinder Missiles, and it’s one of my favourite tracks on the album. I can’t really describe why, though, so I’m going to take a minute to talk about something else. See, this is one of the tracks that was redone for Doppelganger, and on Spotify, for whatever reason, has the title misspelled “Misssiles”. I let them know about this years ago and they never fixed it, so I guess this is my callout post. For what it’s worth, I think the Doppelganger version is a bit looser, adding in some elements in the empty space (there’s a reverb after the initial riff I really love), but both have their own merits.
Okay, mild rant over, back to regular old rambling. The next track is The Last March of the Ents, Lord of the Rings reference very much intended. This is one of those tracks I always forgets exists to be honest, like the intro started and I was like…what was this one again? And then the bit at like 50 seconds came in and I remembered everything. That section is honestly really strong, though unfortunately the rest of the track kinda feels just like Mouths like Sidewinder Missiles, but like, slightly worse? Which is especially awkward considering it immediately proceeds that song. I will say the part of the song where it slows alllll the way down is really enjoyable, it’s very gradual and smooth, gives the bass a bit of time to shine, before blowing back up again because these guys just can’t bear to play slow for half a minute.
The next track is F.C.P.S.I.T.S.G.E.P.G.E.P.G.E.P. This is the song that their most popular track, F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X. is a version of, and they’ve never actually stated what the acronym is for. A common (and I believe discredited) suggestion is, and I quote, “Fuck condoms, premarital sex is the shit, get ‘er pregnant get ‘er pregnant get ‘er pregnant”, which is A Take. It also has nothing to do with the lyrics of the song itself. This track is actually by far the loosest and slowest on the album completely, appropriate considering it’s first words are “slow down”. There’s really not a lot of screaming on it, left only to the chorus, and they’re actually understandable which is nice (or maybe it’s just because I know it’s “come running home”). This is undoubtedly an emo track, based on the lyrics, but it’s also just kind of excellent, similarly complex lyrics slowed down to a comprehensible tempo and a bridge that builds in a supremely satisfying manner. The comparison to R.E.M.I.X. is of course, inevitable, and I will say the tightening up did help in some places- the very slow section at the latter part of the song probably doesn’t need to go that long, and that’s easily the part that gets sped up most in the redo. Still, the song stands out very naturally, feeling more thoughtful and controlled than its peers.
The next song is titled “Whacko Jacko Steals The Elephant Man’s Bones”, apparently a reference to…a music video where Michael Jackson danced next to a recreation of the skeleton of a famously deformed man. Yeah, ok, sure. I don’t actually have much to say about this one, it’s very scream-led, but doesn’t really stand out to me apart from the naming. It’s play rating supports this, being the second least listened track here, but it’s by no means bad. It’s just kinda long and as generic as something like this can be, I suppose. Honestly I kinda forgot all the directions this goes, some of these sections are really quite excellent, but the song is probably like 2 minutes longer than it needed to be. I’m just saying. Like I kept waiting for this song to try and change my mind and it kinda just didn’t.
Reassurance Rests in the Sea is up next, and god that little riff it’s building around, that just noodles around but at triple speed, is just so sick. It’s a song that spends a lot more time cutting itself down- like F.C.P.etc. it’s looser and slower, but substantially more disjointed than that one is. This song, uh, completely breaks off like two minutes in and just stops. And becomes a different song. Like, I don’t think this is a bonus track or anything, it’s just a part of the same song. And that second half is a really sort of chill (for this album) instrumental, lead by a bassline that slowly gets more riffs over the top of it. And then that bit stops itself, and the main song returns again for like the final half a minute or so. And honestly I was just like, wait, no, go back…….
The actual least listened to track on the album is number 9, The Adventures of Allan Gordon (it’s apparently about a book). Honestly, I’d kinda love to hear this live, because the first minute or so of it is the kind of thing you’d play as an interstitial to keep the audience going while you get your shit ready for the next song. Eventually (and I mean eventually, song’s a third through at this point) the lyrics and such come in, and yeah ok I see why this one isn’t as popular. It’s like, fine? Like, that cut back section is pretty overall mediocre, but when we get back to the screaming and the riffs and the noise its as solid as ever. It’s a little frustrating, because they can do the more lyrical stuff, F.C.P. is right there, but this one doesn’t quite make the mark for me. A shame.
Track 10 is I Just Got This Symphony Goin’, which does not have an actual symphony, but it does present and absolutely killer opening riff, so it’s not all bad. This is one of the songs I most associate with the album, even if it’s one of the ones also on Doppelganger. Its speeding up and slowing down and screaming and singing and lots of interweaving and yeah. I like it. Iunno.
The final song, What Sound Does a Mastodon Make? (I dunno, ask a paleontolgist?), is a full seven minutes, 2 minutes longer than the next longest track. It’s kind of interesting, since the second half of the album going by tracks is much much longer than the first half. It does this really fun bit where the lead guitar and rhythm guitar do their own little call and response thing, immediately followed by one of the weirdest vocal noises I’ve ever heard, and I don’t have a word to describe it, so you’re gonna have to either trust me or listen to it yourself. This song is just really, really long, man, and it goes in a lot of places but none of them are exceptional enough to really justify slogging through a total 7 minutes of it. I’m going to be honest, I’m probably not going to listen to it unless I’m going through the whole album. The extended build near the end is pretty sick, I guess? And the way the last minute just decides to, like, drop everything, and just end with a very quiet, indie-esque instrumental. Like the very “we did it, now we can relax” sort of moment. Lets both you and the band know its over, and you can move on past your energy high to something a bit more chill.
I think the best phrase I can use to describe The Fall of Troy is “ADHD music”. Both in that it feels almost a little distractable sometimes, multidirectional and often not fully resolving its lines, and also in that said lines are great if you’re someone like myself who’s brain needs something to be chewing over while the more conscious parts are trying to do something else. To be clear, I consider this a compliment. Like most music I discuss, this certainly isn’t for everyone, as you’re going to need a tolerance for adrenaline and screaming to enjoy this album, but I do think it’s worth the attempt. Now, I haven’t listened to Doppelganger (or any of the other albums for that manner) in full, so I can’t comment on how the style of The Fall of Troy would evolve over time. But at the very least, this is a very solid starting point for what would become a surprisingly long-lasting act.
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beetlebitchywitch · 5 years ago
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Dissonant Notes, Part 2
Welp, here she is. Part 2 to the super soft Dewey fic I wrote waaaaaay too long ago. Will there be a Part 3? Maybe? We’ll see how this goes...
Part 1 
The minute you got back to your apartment after work, you flew into a whirlwind. You tossed discarded shirts into your hamper, dusted the coffee table, fluffed your throw pillows, and completed just about any other unnecessary chore you could think of to keep your mind off the fact that Dewey was coming over tonight. 
You saw him in the halls just after the bell rang, and for the first time in the history of your friendship with Dewey, you had difficulty stringing words together. God, you’re a fucking teacher and yet you feel like you’re in middle school again, your cheeks flushed and hands just barely trembling. 
“Hey, Dewey, you got a minute?” you asked, your heart pounding away in your chest. 
“Of course, Ms. L/N, what’s up?” he asked, fixing you with a steady gaze and a barely-there smirk. You were surrounded by students rushing to their buses or their parent’s cars, yet you couldn’t look away from him and the way he was looking at you. 
“Um, about tonight. I was thinking I could cook us dinner? It’s the least I could do for you being willing to help me with my musical ability...or lack thereof, rather,” you joked awkwardly. His smirk only grew, his knowing look agitating the butterflied that have recently made their residence in your stomach. 
“Text me your address and I’ll be there.” And with a simple wink, he was gone. You watched him walk down the hall and out the door, not once looking back in your direction. 
...You were so fucked. 
You had a little over an hour until Dewey arrived, so you set to work preparing a modest meal for the two of you. Given your overabundance of fresh produce, you decided to go with a stir fry, throwing every appropriate vegetable you could find into a large wok. You slowly fell into a groove, which cooking always helped you to do. You could simply zone out as you prepared the rice, chopped up some chicken, seasoned your vegetables, and threw it all together into something that looked and smelled delicious. You looked down at your work with pride...until, of course, the panic set in. 
God, you don’t even know if he liked stir fry! What if he was a vegetarian? What if he’s allergic to something you used? Oh God, your first...get together, because date feels presumptuous, with Dewey and you might just up and kill him! He was so put together and smooth this afternoon and here you were, putting together a meal that could poison him and sweating at the mere thought of being in the same room alone with him because you were so-
Before the voices in your brain could take you over, there was a loud knock on your door. Fuck. Fuck. No turning back now. 
You took a deep breath and made your way to the door, attempting to compose yourself before you opened it to reveal a smiling Dewey. 
“Hey Y/N!” he said cheerily, still in his work clothes with his guitar case in hand. “Sorry I’m a little late, I got a bit lost trying to find your place.”
“That’s alright! Come on in,” you said shyly, stepping back to give him room to enter your apartment. Frankly, you hadn’t even noticed he was late; anxiety tended to distract you from things like that. “I, uh, I made a stir fry with chicken and rice! I really should’ve asked what you’d like to eat, so I’m sorry if you don’t like it-”
“Y/N,” he said fondly, “it’s alright, it smells really good. I’m used to cold pizza and stale fries on Friday nights, so this is a nice change of pace.”
You returned his smile and walked him into the kitchen, dishing out servings of the meal for each of you. He took his plate happily, deeply inhaling the savory smell with a soft smile. God, he was adorable. You led him to the living room and plopped down on your couch, looking up at him expectantly. He slid down next to you, leaving a less-than-desirable gap between you as you readily dug into your food. 
“Y/N, this is really good,” he mumbled, his mouth stuffed full as he chewed. “I’m gonna start paying you to bring me lunch to school.”
“No can do, sadly. If I do it for you, then everyone’s gonna start wanting me to cook for them, and then I’m not gonna have any after-school time for you to try and teach me how not to suck at music,” you laughed, trailing the end of your fork nervously around your plate. 
“Come on, it can be our little secret,” he teased with a wink. You simply avoided his gaze and continued to eat, feeling like the blazing heat in his eyes might set you ablaze if you looked at them. 
“I’ll think about it,” you conceded quietly. “Hey, aren’t you a little uncomfortable in your work clothes? My bathroom’s down the hall if you brought anything to change into.” Dewey’s eyebrow quirked, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 
“Trying to get me out of my clothes already, huh? Come on, Y/N, we haven’t even finished eating yet!” he said slyly. You scoffed, trying to play off the heat rising to fill your cheeks by launching yourself off of the couch and stealing his near-empty plate, ignoring his complaining as you placed his dish in the fridge. 
“Oh come on, you deserved that,” you joked, closing the fridge behind you with finality. “You can have your food back when you learn to behave.”
“Oh, and you’re gonna teach me, are you?” he asked, mischief dripping from every word. God, you wanted to kiss that smirk off his stupid face, damn him.  
“Last I recall, you’re the one that’s supposed to be doing the teaching,” you pointed out, grabbing his guitar case from the end table next to the couch. “That is what you’re here for, remember?”
“Y-yeah, right,” he stammered, the bravado in his voice making way for a shaky shyness. “Let’s get to work, then! Could I, uh...I think I could help you better if I was sitting sort of behind you?” 
It took everything in you not to flash him the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable. His “Mr. Smooth” persona was gone, replaced with a blushing, stuttering mess that suddenly made you feel much better about your inability to speak around him- clearly, your feelings were not one sided, but you chose to let that discussion come about naturally. Resisting the urge to tease him, you sat yourself between his legs on the couch, leaning back into his chest slightly as he placed his guitar into your lap. He began walking you through the most basic chords he could teach you, his arms wrapping around you to help guide your fingers to their proper positions. He was perfectly warm, and his hands were gentle, with rough fingertips calloused from years of guitar playing. The hard skin pressed wonderfully into your hands as he guided you, explaining each chord in as much detail as he could. You couldn’t have paid attention to what he was saying if he tried- his breath was rushing hotly over your skin, sending shivers down your spine that you’re sure he could feel. He was soft and warm and wonderful and you’re not sure you could take it much longer.
“D-Dew,” you murmured, feeling him still behind you. You’re sure you’d just cut off some explanation of the importance of the G chord, but honestly, you weren’t quite sure. “If you want me to be able to pay attention, you’re gonna want me to move.” 
He remained still for a moment, his breath coming steadily as it puffed onto the bare skin of your shoulder. You held your own breath, eyes sliding shut as you waited for his response. 
“I...I don’t want you to move.”
Those hushed words sent heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Slowly, you turned slightly in his arms, finally getting a good look at his face- his cheeks were flushed, his lips just barely touching and his eyes were trained solely on you. You placed his guitar to the side, giving his arms room to curl around you as you stared into his eyes. 
“...Show me.”
Your murmured words snapped him out of his reverie, and with a small sigh he pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands drifted up to wrap around his neck, kissing him back as sweetly as you could manage. His hands rested on your hips, grounding you to the moment, this beautiful moment you finally got to share with him. 
When he pulled away, he took a whine with him, your body involuntarily voicing its disagreement. He chuckled, lifting one hand to rest it on your cheek. 
“Sorry it took a fucking guitar lesson to get me to finally kiss you,” he murmured, his signature smirk returning to his lips. You chuckled, leaning into the warmth of his touch. 
“Oh, that was your plan all along, was it?” you joked. “I should’ve guessed, you were quite the smooth operator this afternoon.” 
“Oh, in the hallway? Yeah, I kinda walked out to my car after that and screamed into my steering wheel, so...” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I wanted to...impress you, I guess? Though when it came down to it, I couldn’t keep it up for very long.” You snickered, turning your head to press a delicate kiss into the center of his palm.
 “You impressed me a long time ago, Mr. Finn,” you said with a soft smile. “Truth is, I was so worried about impressing you that I could barely think straight. Guess we both worried for nothing, hmm?” He chuckled, letting his thumb stroke over your cheek.
“I mean, your guitar skills could still use a little work, but-”
“Oh, you’re one to talk! My chord progression was smoother than you by the end of tonight!”
“Oh no, why must you hurt me this way? Attacking my flawless flirting technique with music?!”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“No, yup, OK, that works too.”
He pulled you snugly into his arms once more, pressing sweet kiss after sweet kiss against your lips. You’d talk about what it all really meant later- for now, you were content to enjoy this moment with the man you cared about the most. 
I feel like I could do a Part 3, but I’ll gauge it by reader interest I suppose? Let me know what you guys think!
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hopesilverheart · 4 years ago
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Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you) Artist: @calliartss​ Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood Word Count: ~95k Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.
In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.
This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.
Chapter 11: Can you keep a secret?
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The Lightwood townhouse was a beautiful home.
Magnus had been expecting a huge mansion filled with meaningless paintings and works of art that the family couldn’t have cared less about. He had expected a demonstration in luxury and had instead been greeted by warm tones and knick-knacks that spoke of a loving family.
Alec had told him, of course, that Maryse was a lot more loving behind closed doors.  It was still strange though, to see the dissonance between the woman Magnus had met and the woman greeting her children with wide smiles and lingering embraces. Even Alec, who had once told Magnus he had never been particularly close to his mother, seemed light and happy around his family.
“They’re… Not what I was expecting,” Catarina murmured into his ear, glancing at the group of Lightwoods confusedly. “I always thought rich people would be a little more- Well, I don’t know, I suppose I just assumed they would act like the stereotypical wealthy family that doesn’t like to show affection.”
“I think we all assumed it would be like that,” Raphael snorted from his spot to Magnus’ left. “But now that we’ve concluded that they are not, in fact, an emotionless group of human beings, maybe we should join them? You know, show them that we too know how to function in social situations.”
“I wouldn’t say you and Ragnor know how to function properly around other people, Raph,” Magnus chuckled, reluctantly closing the distance between his little ragtag family and Alec’s perfect siblings. “And I’m not sure their united front is going to stand all night, so stay on your guard.”
“You’re all ridiculous,” Ragnor grumbled, looking down at Madzie seriously. “You shouldn’t listen to anything they have to say, kiddo. The Lightwoods are a perfectly normal family, and so are we. Your mom and uncles are just confused because they thought they knew everything and realised they were wrong.”
“I think the Lightwoods look cool!” Was the only thing Madzie said, breaking free from her mother’s grip and hurtling into Alec’s legs, holding onto him tightly until he picked her up. “Hi Alec! I came here with my family today!”
“I know,” Alec smiled at her softly, effectively turning Magnus into a puddle of goo. “I’m the one who drove Magnus here, but he wanted to make his grand entrance with you, since you’re the prettiest mermaid of all!”
“I don’t think Magnus wants to be here,” Madzie whispered loudly, earning herself horrified glances from the guest-side of the entrance hall and chuckles from the Lightwoods. “Mom said the dinner was going to be a little bit scary. Why’s the dinner going to be scary, Alec?”
“The dinner is absolutely not going to be scary,” Isabelle cut in, sidling up to her brother and holding a hand out for Madzie to shake. “I’m Isabelle Lightwood, Alec’s sister. You can call me Izzy.”
The little girl looked at the offered appendage dubiously for a few seconds but, thanks to a nudge and a nod from Alec, eventually took it and smiled shyly at Isabelle. The young woman grinned widely and ruffled Madzie’s hair before turning to the rest of their party.
“So, scary, huh?” She huffed mock-offendedly, wagging her pointer finger in Magnus’ direction. “And here I thought we were friends and you would feel comfortable enough telling me about these things. What are you so scared of, anyways? I thought you’d already met most of the family.”
“He just doesn’t do families,” Raphael answered for him, shrugging unapologetically when Magnus glared at him. “It’s the truth. He’s terrible at meeting parents and siblings, so he tries to avoid it as much as possible. Why do you think he invited us along?”
“Because Alec asked everyone to come?” Isabelle frowned, looking at Raphael as though he wasn’t making any sense. Which, to her, he probably wasn’t. “He wanted us to have a big family dinner, and that apparently includes inviting all of our partners’ parents and siblings along.”
Catarina opened her mouth, but Magnus elbowed her as hard as possible to cut her off. He didn’t know why Alec hadn’t just told his family that he was too nervous to meet Alec’s family properly without at least some back-up. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth though.
“Are the others already here?” He asked instead, looking around the hallway and trying to figure out where the dining room was. The townhouse may not have been quite as big as what Magnus had been expecting, but it was still a lot fancier than any house Magnus had ever lived in.
“Right through there,” Isabelle chuckled, pointing at an open archway and leading to a beautifully decorated living area, complete with a large dining table and an expensive-looking fireplace. “Simon and Clary have known each other for years, so their families arrived at the same time. Just to avoid any awkwardness I will give you a quick run down. Simon is here with his widowed mom and his sister, and Clary is here with her mom and her step-father, her father isn’t in the picture.”
She gestured at the different groups of people as she spoke, and disappeared before any of them could react, which Magnus took as a sign that they were supposed to mingle by themselves.
“You look lost,” Alec grinned, kissing Magnus’ temple lightly before curling an arm around his waist. “I know this is a lot, especially with the other families here, but I promise none of us are as intimidating as we may seem. Clary’s mom is a super cool artist, and her dad is a badass cop. Simon’s mom works at a school and is one of the nicest people you’ll meet. Everyone here is very normal, I promise.”
“Except you and your ridiculously successful family,” Magnus pointed out, biting back a smile when Alec rolled his eyes at him and pressed another kiss to his cheek before leading him towards Clary, Clary’s mother, Simon and Jace. “And of course you’re leading me straight to the wolves. I appreciate your attempt at getting the worst over with as soon as possible, but I would really rather have alcohol in my system before trying to talk to your brother.”
“Nice try, but no,” Alec smiled sharply, tightening his grip on Magnus as they approached the small group.
As worried as Magnus had been about meeting Jace properly, he had to admit that the rest of the group was a rather pleasant bunch. He already got along splendidly with Clary and Simon, and Jocelyn was just as kind and open as her daughter. Even her husband, who joined them a few minutes later, radiated empathy and good intentions.
The only real problem was Jace. The thing was, Magnus and Jace had talked a few times already. It was inevitable, given the fact that Jace owned the best coffee shop in the neighbourhood they worked in. Magnus didn’t particularly like it, but he wasn’t about to let the strange tension between his boyfriend’s brother and him get in the way of a great cup of coffee. Unlike Isabelle and her mother, who had quickly accepted Magnus’ new position in their lives, Jace seemed to live in constant denial of Alec’s relationship status.
Every time Magnus tried to bring Alec up, Jace would close off or make a comment about the fashion team, and Magnus had eventually just given up on trying to get to know the blond man. A part of him wanted to get along with Jace, no matter how infuriating he was, if only to make Alec happy, but they’d been stuck in the same place for over a month and Magnus honestly couldn’t see things getting any better.
“You’ve talked to everyone but Jace,” Alec whispered as they settled at the dinner table forty-five minutes later, ready to dig into the wonderful meal Maryse and Max had prepared. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you purposefully avoid each other and deflect questions when they could even potentially lead to a conversation between the two of you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Magnus said innocently, smiling politely at Luke as the man offered him some wine. “Jace and I don’t have anything to talk about. We couldn’t be more different if we tried.”
“You should know better than to say things like that to me, Magnus,” Alec smirked, mischief and determination overtaking his features as he stared between Jace – who was sitting across the table from them, completely ruining the idea of a Lightwood side – and Magnus thoughtfully. “I think you just need to give each other a bit more of a chance. I promise you have a lot more in common than you might think.”
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t,” Magnus pleaded, turning wide eyes on his boyfriend. “Alec, I just want to have a nice dinner with everyone here, and I don’t think a conversation between Jace and I qualifies as something nice. He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Alec rolled his eyes, turning towards his brother and smiling brightly. “Hey, Jace! Would you mind switching seats? I have something I wanted to talk to Clary and Max about, you know the usual art stuff, and I don’t feel like yelling.”
Jace stared at his brother suspiciously for a few seconds, glancing at Magnus and sighing heavily as he realised he wasn’t going to get out of this. Well, that made two of them.
“You owe me for this, Alec,” the blond muttered as they both stood up and walked around the table to take their new seats. “And you owe me too. I’m only doing this because Alec is my brother and I would do anything to keep him happy, alright? So just act like you don’t completely hate me and we’ll be fine. Although please keep your elbows to yourself, it’s a huge pet peeve of mine.”
“Babe, please dial the douche-baggery down a little bit,” Simon tutted at his boyfriend from the other end of the table. “I know it’s hard for you, but we’re all trying to get along and you don’t get to escape this huge orgy of positive feelings.”
“Simon!”
“Don’t talk about orgies at the dinner table!”
“Will someone please pass me the goddamned salad?!”
Magnus’ eyes widened as chaos descended upon the table, dishes getting passed around as five different conversations started up. Alec was busy with Clary and Max, which meant Magnus couldn’t talk to him, and he had been split up from most of his friends. Ragnor, the only one who had remained in his immediate vicinity, was already having a deep discussion with Luke, which left Magnus with no other option than…
“He really planned this, didn’t he?” He sighed, glancing over at Jace who had apparently also accepted their fate. The blond man had angled his chair and body in Magnus’ direction, picking at his pasta salad half-heartedly. “Does he do this often?”
“It’s happened a few times in the past,” Jace shrugged. “Not that I can really complain about it, since one of those times led to me and Simon getting together. I just wish he had given me a little more forewarning. You seem like a cool guy, Bane, but I really don’t know if this is going to work out.”
“What? Our friendship?” Magnus chuckled lowly. “Because believe me, I don’t think it’s going to work out either. Alec’s intentions are pure and I appreciate his efforts, but there’s very little I think the two of us could share. Still, there’s no harm in tryi-”
“I meant you and Alec,” Jace cut him off, looking at Magnus seriously. “I don’t know if you and Alec are going to work out.”
Magnus’ breath caught in his throat at the man’s blunt words. So far, all of their friends had been showering them with support and insisting that they had been all but made for each other, so to hear someone suggest the complete opposite hurt more than Magnus could have anticipated. He knew Alec and he were different in many ways, but they cared about each other.
They cared about each other a lot, and wasn’t that what mattered? More than their appearances or their hobbies or how well their friends got along. The longer they were together, the more hopeful Magnus was for the future, but Jace’s words made him wonder if he had missed something. Had there been a glaring red flag above their heads the entire time? Had everyone else simply been too afraid to tell them how wrong they were for each other?
“God, the two of you sure think as much as each other,” Jace snorted, gazing at Magnus amusedly. “I didn’t say anything about how well suited the two of you are; it’s clear to me that you like each other and share plenty of things. I just mean that relationships are always a little uncertain, especially when there are secrets involved.”
Magnus’ heart froze.
“Secrets?” He croaked, swallowing nervously as Jace nodded, staring at him knowingly. “What secrets are you talking about, exactly?”
“I’m talking about the things Alec has yet to tell you about his life and his job,” Jace sighed. “I’m talking about whatever it is you and Isabelle discuss from time to time that has you looking so worried. I’m talking about how you both know you’re not being completely sincere but have yet to do anything about it.”
Magnus knew he should have been a little more anxious about his secret potentially coming out. He had been trying to keep it hidden for almost two months now, and he was so close to getting his tracks completely – or mostly – covered. Jace saying something to Alec could potentially ruin all of that. He knew that was what he should have been thinking about.
Instead, he was stuck on the first part of Jace’s statement. He had always been aware that he wasn’t being completely truthful with Alec, and a part of him had always felt guilty for being insincere. It had just never occurred to him that the lack of transparency might have been mutual from the get-go.
Alec had always been so honest with him that Magnus had never even thought about the things he didn’t know about Alec yet. He hadn’t even considered that Alec might have secrets just as bad – and maybe even worse – than his.
“I’m not saying this because I want the two of you to break up,” Jace continued, staring at Magnus intensely. “And I’m not saying this because I want you to ask questions about what Alec might be hiding. I actually think he has decent reasons to be holding back. However, I also think he should tell you eventually, and probably sooner rather than later. As for you… Look, I don’t know what you’re hiding or what you’re so ashamed of or whatever, but maybe you should think about telling him?”
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t thought about doing, yet Magnus still felt frustration bubble inside his chest at Jace’s unnecessary prodding into his life.
“I know what I’m doing,” he muttered, looking towards Alec to avoid Jace’s stare and wondering if the blond man would be able to sense his lie. “As for your concerns about my relationship with Alec… I appreciate them, but I promise you that I’m serious about this and would never do anything to mess it up. I care about Alec, and I just want him to be happy.”
For a second, Magnus thought Jace was going to bring up the lying again, that he was going to accuse Magnus of wanting Alec to be happy living a lie or some other nonsense. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, shrugged nonchalantly, and turned back to his plate as the main dishes were set on the table.
“Well then, no reason for us not to get along,” Jace said after a few minutes of silence during which Magnus had wondered whether or not there was a way to turn back time and take back everything he had ever said and done wrong in his life. “Alec tells me you’re into baseball?”
And just like that, the two of them were engrossed in their own private conversation about sports and teams and who they wanted to see progress in the league. It wasn’t anything serious, and Magnus could still feel the underlying hint of tension in their voices, but at least they were actively trying to talk to each other.
By the time dessert was brought out and everyone was pleasantly tipsy from the wine, Alec and Jace had switched back. Magnus was feeling a lot more comfortable than he had earlier, Madzie was all but dozing off in her seat, the parents had left them alone, and the atmosphere was relaxed.
The siblings spent the entirety of dessert discussing each other’s relationships as well as their overall excitement for the spring collection. The conversation was riddled with inside jokes and hints Magnus didn’t quite understand, but he was too happy to have gotten through the worst of the evening to worry about it too much.
“Are you okay to drive home?” Alec asked him as the Lightwood children escorted their partners back to the door – or in Jace’s case, got ready to be escorted out with their partner. “Or do you want me to call a cab? I know you had a little to drink, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because we weren’t careful.”
“I was actually wondering if Isabelle might want to go out and have drinks with me,” Magnus blurted out, immediately asking himself what was wrong with him. That had not been in his plans at all. He had been dreaming about getting home and passing on his bed for hours, so why on earth would he screw it all up by asking his friend out for drinks?
Sure, he loved Isabelle, but he had had his fair share of Lightwoods for the night, and they saw enough of each other at work. Besides, she was already drunk as-
Suddenly, he knew exactly what his brain was trying to do. It wouldn’t work, though. Just because Isabelle was drunk didn’t mean she would reveal any secrets that weren’t her own. She might not even know about Alec’s secrets, and then their night out would have been for nothing. It was a stupid idea, and the best thing to do would be to take his words back immediately.
“Ooh, I’d love to go for drinks!”
Or not.
***
“Thank god you dragged me out of there,” Isabelle slurred. “Family dinners are always so draining and having Clary around didn’t exactly make things better. We’ve been going through a bit of a tough time and only just figured things out, so this was… Well, it was something.”
The brunette was well past drunk at this point. She had had too many cocktails for Magnus to keep count of, and he knew he wasn’t far behind. Thankfully, his apartment was just around the corner so they would only have to walk down the block to get back to safety and warmth once the bar closed – or once they got kicked out, whichever one came first.
“You know, your family isn’t half as bad as I thought they would be,” Magnus hummed. “I even talked to Jace about baseball for a while.”
“Yeah, Jace is easy enough to get along with as long as you have some basic knowledge of either sports, coffee, or biology,” Isabelle nodded seriously. “I mean, he’s a bit weird and I don’t always understand him, but he’s pretty cool. Except when he was trying to hit on Clary.”
“He tried to hit on Clary?” Magnus snickered quietly, sipping at his drink and raising an expectant eyebrow in Isabelle’s direction. “Well come on, I want the details! I need to have something on him for the next time I see him, you know, and nothing is as embarrassing as hitting on a woman who is infatuated by your sister.”
“Speaking from experience?” Isabelle waggled her eyebrows. “Did you once fall in love with someone who was already trying to woo Raphael?”
“No,” Magnus wrinkled his nose. “Of course not. But Jace seems like the kind of guy to completely ignore the signs of attraction between two people and just- just shoot his shot or whatever. Although, wasn’t he already with Simon when he met Clary? Wouldn’t that have made things even more awkward?”
“Oh god, it would have been awful,” Isabelle giggled. “But no. We all met Simon after we met Clary, since she’s the one who introduced him to us and asked mom to give him a job and all that shebang. Before Jace met Simon and was hit by love at first sight, he thought Clary was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. And fair enough, she is the prettiest girl in the world, but that’s beside the point.”
“Wait, wait, did you and Clary already have all that-” Magnus gestured wildly as he tried to make his point. Unfortunately, he only earned himself a blank look from the brunette. “Sexual tension?”
“I don’t know,” Isabelle shrugged. “I wasn’t even aware we had something until Alec pointed it out and told me to get my shit together. It took me a few years, but I got there! And Jace never tried to flirt with her again. Although maybe that has more to do with the fact that she slapped him hard enough to make him bleed.”
“She made him bleed?!” Magnus exclaimed, slamming his glass back down on the bar and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for Isabelle to expand on that particular story.
He wasn’t disappointed. It turned out that Jace was terrible at seducing people; he went too heavy too fast and tended to turn into a bit of an arrogant asshole, which Clary had decidedly not appreciated. Jace had ended the night with the promise of a hangover and a mark on his cheek that had apparently stayed there for over a week.
“And then he met Simon and forgot all about my girl,” Isabelle finished her tale, smiling dopily as she thought of Clary. “So now I have her, and he has Simon who’s actually really nice even though he talks a lot and gets on Alec’s nerves with his rambling rants. Everything worked out for the best.” Isabelle said as she ended the story, a fond smile and soft twinkle in her eye.
“Which is all that matters in the end,” Magnus said wisely, thinking back on what Jace had told him earlier that evening.
He had been keeping it locked in his mind for over two hours, not even breathing a word of it to Isabelle, but he was starting to forget why he had been trying to hold back in the first place. It wasn’t like he was going to force Isabelle to tell him Alec’s secret. He just wanted to know if whatever his boyfriend was hiding was as bad as what Magnus had done.
That way, maybe they could be even.
“Jace doesn’t think Alec and I are going to work out,” he sighed, downing the rest of his drink and ordering yet another, completely ignoring the bartender’s judgemental look. “He says we lie to each other too much about the things that matter. Or at least I think that’s what he meant to say. Hey, Iz, do you think Alec and I lie to each other?”
“Well, duh,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “You still haven’t told him about the little white lie that got you the job as Head Editor, did you? And you haven’t spoken about Fade Media with him yet, so… That’s technically two lies? I think.”
“But what about him?” Magnus insisted. “Does he lie to me too?”
At his words, Isabelle’s face went through a series of complicated emotions that Magnus was far too drunk to analyse. He thought he got the gist of it, which was what mattered most, and the gist was that yes, Alec was lying to him. And if the alarm remaining on Isabelle’s features was anything to go by, he was lying about something big.
“Why hasn’t he told me?” He pouted. “Does he not trust me? Does he not think he can tell me about all his deep, dark secrets that no one else wants to hear about? I thought I was the only one in the wrong, but if he’s also keeping things from me, then that’s alright. Right?”
If he had been even just slightly more sober, he would have known that the answer to his own question was a resonant no. Just because Alec was keeping things from him didn’t mean Magnus had to lie as well. Relationships weren’t about holding petty grudges like that, they were about communication. Sober Magnus would have known that.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Magnus was very much not sober.
“Yeah, it has to be alright,” he repeated, nodding to himself. Isabelle didn’t look convinced, but she was too drunk to get an opinion on the matter at hand. “But Jace thinks we should talk to each other.”
“Talking is always a good idea,” Isabelle tutted, poking Magnus in the chest. “You have to talk to the people you love, otherwise they’ll think you don’t love them. I didn’t talk to Clary this week, you know? I locked myself in my bedroom and only came out for the Vogue shoot. And I don’t know why I didn’t talk to Clary? I missed Clary.” Izzy rambled.
“Alec and I talk a lot!” Magnus protested. “We talk all the time! We talk about the things we love and the things we hate and we- we go on dates and talk about how we feel. Sometimes. We just don’t talk about secrets. What’s the point of having secrets if you give them away?”
“I don’t think we’re s’pposed to keep secrets from the people we love,” Isabelle said sadly. “’Cause secrets hurt people.”
“Will Alec’s secret hurt me?” Magnus asked before he could help himself. He had lost all his filters somewhere after his last glass, and he was far too curious to pretend like he didn’t want to know what Alec was hiding. “Is it going to make me cry, Iz?”
“I don’t know,” the brunette answered. “I think it’s a stupid secret that shouldn’t be a secret at all, so I don’t know. I don’t want you to be mad at Alec though, because Alec really likes you and I really like you too. You should just ask him about his secret. Maybe he’ll tell you if you ask him.”
“Why would he tell me?” Magnus threw his hands in the air. “He won’t even tell me about Clary’s secret partner! He keeps saying it’ll happen when it should happen or whatever bullshit quote he likes to use. I should get to know who the designer is, Iz, I’m wearing his clothes! Well, not right now, but… You know what I mean.”
“Of course he won’t tell you,” Isabelle said sadly. “Because if he tells you about the designer, he has to tell you about himself, and Alec hates talking about himself positively. He thinks he’s not good enough, you know? He thinks people will judge him, even though they really wouldn’t. They would just love him even more than they do now.”
Once again, it felt like Magnus was missing something. It had been happening more and more often over the past two weeks, and he was starting to get annoyed at how vague his friends acted around him. There was something they weren’t telling him, something that had to do with the secret designer and that made Alec uncomfortable.
It made Isabelle a little bit angry, made Clary sad, made Simon bite his lip, and made the fashion team roll their eyes. It made them all shut up faster than anything else, and Magnus didn’t know why. All he knew was that he was sick and tired of being left out of something whilst everyone else laughed behind his back.
“Who’s the designer, Isabelle?” He asked as soberly as he could. “Who is he? I know it’s a man, because Alec let that slip, but who is it? I know it’s someone who works at the office, since there’s no way they could have created such perfect outfits if they hadn’t met all the models. I know Clary is friends with him, close friends even, because she trusts him with a lot of things. Alec trusts him too, even though I’m not sure he likes him. So who is it?”
She was dying to tell him, Magnus could see it clear as day. She was bouncing on her bar stool, swaying lightly as she shook her head and scrunched her eyes shut in a valiant attempt to stay quiet. However, Magnus knew she would cave as soon as he stopped speaking, because Isabelle hated this secret almost as much as Magnus did.
Of all their friends, she was the only one who had ever said she found the secrecy stupid. She was the only one who had almost cracked and given Magnus a name before Clary had stormed in and dragged her girlfriend away from him. She wanted the secret to be out, and Magnus was shamelessly taking advantage of it.
(He would regret it later, once he was sober and understood the consequences of asking such a private question, but for now he felt nothing but eagerness and excitement.)
“You know him too, don’t you?” He continued, urging her to break and slip and just spill the beans already. A part of him knew it was wrong, but he was drunk and slightly annoyed at all the secrets being kept from him, and he just wanted this one little thing. “You’re friends with him, and you want him to get credit for what he does. You don’t think Clary should get all of it, which is why you’re always fighting. Is that why you’re always fighting? Because you think- You think…”
“Because I think Alec should get the credit too!” Isabelle cried out, slapping her hands over her mouth as soon as the words slipped past her lips.
She looked horrified and startlingly sober for someone who had had at least four drinks since leaving the Lightwoods. And Magnus could only stare back at her with an expression of matching horror on his face. Because he hadn’t wanted Alec’s secret, no matter how curious he had been. He had wanted to ask Alec about it when he was sober and actually capable of coherent thought.
Instead, he had found out from Isabelle, her words ringing over and over again in his mind as his mind caught onto their meaning. In hindsight, he should have figured it out long ago, given all the clues he had been handed on a silver platter.
“But…” He started, words evading him as he tried to wrap his head around his boyfriend, Alexander Lightwood, being the secret designer he had been wondering about for years.
He just couldn’t see it. Alexander was wonderful; he was kind and smart and always willing to listen to Magnus no matter how long his stories were. He was a great partner, both in and out of bed, and he was the man Magnus was falling in love with one day at a time.
The secret designer, on the other hand, was a mysterious entity whom Magnus had always imagined as dark and secretive and a little rude, maybe even slightly entitled. The secret designer was great at colours, a colour genius, and would certainly know how to dress a lot better than Alexander did. And more importantly, he was a man Magnus had never imagined dating, let alone loving.
“I think- I think this is why he doesn’t like telling people,” Isabelle interrupted his thoughts, staring at him with a mix of pity and disappointment. “He doesn’t like having to explain why he doesn’t dress colourfully, and why he started designing, and how he got in the business… He doesn’t like answering all the questions. And right now, you have a lot of questions.”
“Of course I do!” Magnus exclaimed. “You just told me my boyfriend is also one of the best designers in the country! I thought he was just a CEO! Not that being a CEO is bad, but I never imagined… I don’t understand how it’s possible, Isabelle. Is that why he’s always busy?”
“Probably,” Isabelle shrugged. “He works a lot, even though he’s been doing it less now that you’re here. He and Clary used to stay at the office all the time, even to sleep and eat and live. It was a bit worrying, but they’re better now. Because of us. I think we bring them joy.”
Maybe they did, except now Magnus had gone and ruined that by making Isabelle reveal something Alec had deliberately kept hidden. Sure, Magnus didn’t quite understand why his boyfriend was ashamed of something so wonderful, but that didn’t give him the right to pry into other people’s business by tricking a drunk Isabelle into telling him things.
Now Magnus had the secret he had so desperately wanted to know, but he had a feeling it would come with far more repercussions than he was ready for.
“I have to tell Alec,” he said, standing up and swaying on his feet from the sudden movement. “I have to tell him that I know, and come clean about everything so he knows my secret too, and I should do it now.”
“No,” Isabelle shook her head. “No, no, you shouldn’t do that. It’s very late and Alec is probably sleeping and you’re very drunk. We’re both very drunk. We should go back to your apartment and sleep it off and think about this tomorrow, when we’re a little less- When we’re a little more focused. Besides, you can’t tell Alec. Not before he tells you himself.”
“What? Why?” Magnus gaped. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that hiding this from Alec would only cause more issues.
“Because I told you!” Isabelle cried out, looking desperate and a little bit broken. “Because I promised him I wouldn’t betray him by telling anyone, and I promised Clary I would stay out of it, and now I told you. If they find out, they’re never going to forgive me. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“Of course they’ll forgive you,” Magnus murmured reassuringly. “You did nothing wrong, Iz, you’re drunk! As long as they know that, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m the one who’s in trouble.”
“Then don’t tell them,” the brunette repeated, turning her pleading eyes on him. “Just wait for them to make a move first, alright? I’m sure you’ll agree with me tomorrow morning.”
Magnus wasn’t half as certain as Isabelle was, but he also knew she had a point. Going to Alec’s whilst drunk and telling him that his sister had told Magnus about his secret sounded like a terrible idea. He didn’t know how he would feel in the morning, but at least he would be sober, which was infinitely better than being drunk.
Sober Magnus would have never pushed Isabelle to tell him something she clearly hadn’t wanted to talk about. Sober Magnus wouldn’t have brought up a topic he knew was one of Alec’s most sensitive spots. Sober Magnus was, as a general rule, infinitely smarter than his drunk counterpart.
God, he was never drinking again.
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sirmontgomery · 4 years ago
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TITLE: Finishing Fights  TIMEFRAME: Evening on the 31st of October, Halloween Masquerade.  TAGGING: Cassius Westbrooke ( @cruelboy​ ) + Graham Montgomery. TOTAL: 3,399 words. NOTES: Complete; and followed up by the thread ‘Patio.’ 
GRAHAM
Graham had been out in the hallway, heading to get a different mask. His borrowed one didn't seem to quite fit his face. He wouldn't have been worried about it but he'd gotten the impression that it drew him more attention that he would have liked. Graham would pick something more subtle. Though, he'd only chosen the mask he had because it afforded him the illusion of anonymity. Too much plumage. 
He was coming out of the display room where the school trove was on display when another student had come down the hallway too. He'd been intent on keeping to himself but that wasn't what the other student -- rather students -- had in mind for him. Two flanked the hall while one exchanged some choice words with him. Graham responded in kind and a punch was thrown.
Graham struck the student's windpipe and shoved him quickly into the wall. He drew his fist back and landed a first satisfying punch. He should've been more gentle, given the other boy's smaller height, but he couldn't leave well enough alone. Graham pulled back and landed another punch.
"Go ahead," he said, eyes flat, edge to his voice. "Call out for help. I'm sure your friends are eager to have their chance. Go on."
   CASSIUS
Cassius didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble usually found him, etcetera, etcetera. Cassius was one to pick fights and most of the time he didn’t cast too much judgement on those who did. Good for them he usually thought when he saw two guys duke it out in the halls of Lowell. Really, there was a lot a good punch could fix.
This however did not include any punches thrown by Graham. Cassius had a whole different set of rules when it came to Graham. 
He heard the crack as the punch landed. Recognized the silhouette (Cassius was certain he would recognize Graham anywhere.) He’d been watching Graham from the corner of his eye the whole evening and even from across the room he’d noticed something was off. He was finally starting to understand what exactly that was now as the man hissed heated words and stoked the fight. This was abnormal.
“What the actual fuck, Graham?!” 
Cassius snarled and his hand grabbed Graham’s elbow, the one cocked and ready to through another punch. He tugged hard, in no way being gentle, hoping to pull the other man back even though he had a few inches on him.
“You’re what? Picking fights with guys smaller than you now? Since when are you about unfair fights? Back the fuck off.” Harsh words masked concern. If there was any concern to be found, it was buried under mountains of anger. So much anger that Cassius was ready to deck Graham himself just to get him to listen. Before this though, he turned back to the man at the end of Graham’s wrath.
“And you - why are you still here? Now would be a great time for you to get out of here. Run, kid.”
   GRAHAM
Graham almost whirled around and decked the person who'd grabbed his arm  Almost. He figured it was another one of them and honestly he relished it. He had learned basics of hand to hand combat in West Point and had been addicted ever since. 
He'd taken Jiu Jitsu and Tae Kwan Do very sporadically. Each required structure and discipline but Hunter had his priorities on West Point when he was learning. He wouldn't let forms of fighting interfere in his future. 
Here he had no future. Here he had only time. Time and enemies.
He near growled as the boy scampered away. His flat, dead eyes turned to Cassius now and he got into his space. "I didn't start that fight, but I was sure as hell going to finish it," he said. It was an anthem as much as a statement. He didn't go picking random people in the halls. They picked him. It was always him. "Three against one. Definitely doesn't seem like him being smaller was so much a concern for him if he and his buddies felt brave enough to punch me."
Graham could already feel the swelling of what would become a minor black eye. The jerkoff couldn't even throw a decent punch. It nearly took the fun out of it. "You let an enemy know what you'll do to one if they cross you when you're outnumbered and the rest will think twice. And don't think for one second his cronies wouldn't have joined in to kick me when I was down."
His urges were driving this aggravation, at least in part. Coupled with his anger at the world and his disbelief in the point to anything and Graham would be happy to serve a few detentions for this. Westinghouse wouldn't need another scandal on his hands so Graham did the mental calculus rather quickly. Indulged in some aggression.
"You let him get away," he said. Though all the force from earlier had nearly left him at the sight of Cassius. Nearly. "Don't you have a date to get back to?" asked Graham, referencing the one who supposedly was his boyfriend now. He was suspiciously never anywhere to he seen, not that Graham looked.
   CASSIUS
His eyes hardened at the mention. No, Graham wasn’t wrong. And if it were Cassius, he would have turned down the hall gone after the attackers himself. For all Cassius’ love for politics, the chess move he’d just pulled was a shitty one. But his own actions were dictated by one simple thing: he didn’t want Graham to get hurt — which, evidently, was so fucking stupid because it was clear Graham would have just gone and done it all over again if he had the chance. Cassius should have just let him bleed out on this hallway. Did he have any idea how frustrating it was to deal with someone so stubborn?
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point. Machiavelli’s rolling in his grave and all that. But there’s something to be said for going against an enemy when you don’t know the extent of their forces.”
A beat. Who was he? He’d never follow such advice. Maybe that’s why so many people dished it out. A lot easier to preach than enact.
For a moment, Cassius let silence stretch between them then, allowing it to turn into the shape of the chasm that distanced them in the years. Just a few hands of space between them now and yet — the black eye was darkening right before him. The corner of Cassius’ mouth ticked into a frown at the continued sight. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne through the door to his right. If he could just grab it... there was a handkerchief  in his pocket.... it would be easy enough to fashion up a poor man’s ice pack.
“Want to go find them?” He muttered as he stepped forward so that he was facing Graham. “They can’t have gotten far.”
His fingers came up to gingerly touch the shiner that was blooming black and blue across his exes’ face. Up close, the bruise made Cassius want to hiss. It would definitely still be there tomorrow. And probably would still be there while Graham paid for this whole ordeal with detention. Another gold star on the Montgomery name. Cassius wanted to make a joke about how if anyone was going to bruise Graham up, it was going to be Cassius.
“Might be a good idea to keep the masque around for the rest of the week, huh?” Cassius said instead, keeping the same cold tone to his voice. His lips pressed into a thin line at the accusation. “Oh, I more than let him go; I told him to go,” Cassius continued, trying to keep his tone casual though it came through gritted teeth. A clear: are we going to fight about this too? “Let’s not sell what I did short here.”
Cassius held a stellar poker face as Graham asked about his boyfriend. His fucking what? Oh right, his boyfriend. That little lie had almost slipped away from him. But Cassius was nothing if not committed to the bit. Standing here with Graham, he wondered why he so desperately wanted to twist the knife. Especially since he was certain every time he twisted it in Graham, he felt it in himself too.
“My date is fine not being attached to my hip all night.” Cassius said coldly. ‘Where’s your date? Oh right, dead.’ Was probably not an appropriate follow up.
“We don’t need to be seen together everywhere we go. It’s my birthday I can do what I want.” Cassius always did what he wanted, that was besides the point. “We will have great sex later and it’ll be fine.”
He should lay off, before he sounded too defensive. Besides, they hadn’t even addressed the biggest elephant in the room. That which was clearly the source of their current dilemma. He folded his arms and stared the other down.
“When was the last time you dommed someone?” It wasn’t a come on and he’d give Graham another black eye to match if he so much as presumed such. “Like Jesus fucking Christ how hard could it be in a place like this? And don’t - “ He felt the space in his chest tighten slightly. “Don’t say you can’t cause of him.”
   GRAHAM
Graham shook his head. “Wouldn’t matter how many there were. Whatever happened to me would be on their heads.” Of course that same reality went both ways. He had never intended to hurt the other students in any serious or lasting way. Though Graham had been making a lot of surprising decisions ever since his loss. Decisions his honor would previously have never allowed him to make. Careless, reckless decisions. 
He almost wanted to take Cassius up on his offer to go find them. That sort of vengeance had never been in his blood before but Graham had begun to grow comfortable with the idea of walking darker roads. There was no journey, no destination scarier and more bleak than the one he’d walked with Alec.
Graham winced and pulled back as Cassius’ fingers came to inspect his developing bruise in an act that felt familiar and kind and all too dissonant with where they were at these days. They were equal parts bile and banter interlaced with the knowledge that comes from intimacy. His answering glare held an edge to it but he couldn’t deny that he’d inspect Cassius in much the same way if he were in Graham’s position. All chastising, dispensing advice, examining the damage.
He wasn’t ready to grapple with what these actions spoke of. They could pretend they stopped caring about each other with the ending of their relationship but that sort of bold faced lying could never survive the naked gaze of either man’s scrutiny. It would crumble like the decaying facade of a historic building. As it was, Graham’s shoulders tensed and his lips pressed lightly together at the examination Cassius was giving his eye. The only warmth he offered was the brief lift of a corner of his lips at the joke about keeping his mask around.
“We all have our masks,” he said quietly. Vague, brooding. Yes, let Cassius figure out what he meant by that. Let it settle into his thoughts and cloud everything like an inescapable dust he would futilely and fruitlessly try to clear.
Graham rolled his eyes at Cassius’ assertion of his later evening activities. “Those who actually have great s-- don’t need to say they are.” The Dominant moved forward, urging Cassius to back toward the wall, features smug and knowing. “They simply exude it. They make it obvious with everything but their words.” He quirked a brow. “As I’m sure you remember.”
A subtle brag to speak of the ability they both knew Graham had.
If there was any certainty Graham held about what Cassius would ask next it flew out the window with the question posed.
A flash of anger had Graham’s jaw flexing, his cheeks newly hot, and his gaze sharp as it bore into his ex. Had it not come with his disbelief in the effects of Graham’s grief it might’ve been better received. As it was this was both invalidating and insensitive. He backed the other even further up against the wall.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “You really don’t understand what it feels like to lose what I’ve lost. To wake up in the morning and wonder why you ever opened your eyes. To feel like you’ve lost a piece of yourself -- a vital organ -- and can’t get treatment for it because you can’t pick out the parts of you damaged by the wound.” He shook his head. “If you got it...if you understood that loss...you would never be able to choke those words past your lips. You would never say it like that.” 
Graham stood there trying to calm himself down. He shook his head. “Who are you to ask me about my needs when you’ve spent your entire life ignoring everything about what you are?” Graham lifted his brows. “Answer me.”
He pressed further still. “When was the last time for you?”
  CASSIUS
Cassius isn’t the kind to be walked backwards into a wall, and yet here he is, being walked backwards into a wall. He would have kissed Graham, in that moment, a gesture that would be more attack than an act of intimacy; a way to slip out of corner he’s been backed into. It would be easier, Cassius thinks, than sitting here and talking to Graham about the different masks they wear. The other is looking smug now as he talks about people who have great sex, poking Cassius to remember. It’s a dangerous game, opening that particular box of memories, but there Graham goes, poking. It makes Cassius want to poke back harder.
In fact, thumb comes up, to teasingly trace the sharp angle of the Dom's jaw he knows so well. A mistake in its own right, because this small bit of contact will sustain him for years. The memories that Graham stirs up have heartbeats of their own. For as much as Cassius liked to talk, there isn't much need for words between them. He doesn’t need to say he remembers, he knows Graham knows he does. It's the simplicity of them.
It is the talk of Alec that causes him to freeze, drop his hand and instead let fingers curl into a fist, pressing painful crescent moons into his palm. There’s no denying the sorrow in Graham’s voice. Anger, some hurt too. Graham is living with an open wound and Cassius is just watching him bleed out.
Who is he to ask such things? Especially when Graham has made it so vividly clear in so many words that he is has no space for him in that shattered heart of his. For a blink in time, Cassius doesn’t even care that there is no space for him, he thinks about the ways he could make himself slightly smaller so that his presence is instead inconsequential. Maybe he could slip into a corner of Graham’s heart in a way the other would never notice, in a way that wouldn’t take up emotions or time, just a little bit of space so he could still be there. Stubbornly digging in his heels, planting himself, till Graham’s heart stitched itself back together. It’s a thought that lasts just a blink. And then Cassius is back to his cruel ways.
There’s that demanded ‘Answer me,’ - a statement that Cassius feels compelled to respond to for reasons that  he’d rather shoot himself over than dig into or uncover. He won’t answer him. “How about we hit pause on the Spanish fucking Inquisition, huh? I don’t see why I have to answer you, when you won’t answer me.”
Maybe he should’t go looking for that ice bucket. All of a sudden, Cassius doesn’t trust himself to not throw it at Graham, bucket and ice and bottle and all.
“And I would consider that maybe you don’t know as much about my needs as you like to think you do." Cassius continues, venomously. "I left for a reason didn’t I? Really proving it was the right decision.”
It’s a low blow. Frosty words born of hate and confusion and hurt of his own. They are completely unfair - and completely cruel. Cassius doesn’t mean them, but he’s already said them. He takes a step to the side, so that he’s no longer between Graham and the wall. “Anyway, wouldn't want to keep you from your date.”
He’s looking to cut this conversation short, but hates how closely he listens for the affirmation that Graham is here with someone else. That dreadful hope he gets a name. “Steal some ice from his drink or something for that black eye.”
  GRAHAM
There's a moment where the subtle trace of his jaw with Cassius' thumb has Graham staying still. If not to figure out what was happening then at least because it felt comforting. He hadn't been touched by Cassius in this way for a long time and the ghost of it seemed to beckon life back into Graham's thoughts of their past. He knew this was a dangerous game and knew that Cassius understood exactly what he was doing. Playing with fire was Cassius Westbrooke's specialty and he remained skilled at it.
Determining his intentions...sifting through his actions...had become harder now than it had ever been before. Though even when they were angry at each other they couldn't help but care about each other. Cassius asking after his Dominance and Graham worried, too, about Cassius' stubborn will not to give his body what it needed. Often to the detriment of his health. Graham could never quite understand it before.
Now that he was denying himself for other reasons Graham had a different perspective. Perhaps the impetus was different but the mechanism was the same: the mind. The mind fed into the body and the body the mind. There was no escaping its reciprocal nature. If one of them had a problem with submission or Dominance then it effected them both.
His anger was satisfying but confusing all at once. Cassius had always been more than antagonistic toward Alec even after his death and Graham couldn't figure out why. This wasn't a competition. It would be like trying to compare the moon and the sun. Both celestial entities, both crucially important, but so different that each were their own undeniable category. It made Graham want to press the issue. Get answers. Certainly he needed to get to the bottom of these. But Cassius was content to clam up.
The venom was also expected but how much it hurt was not. Graham /had/ left Cassius and yet he thought they'd both understood the purpose. The good it would do in Graham's life.
He had never forsaken his duty to Cassius for his duty to his Country but he knew that he'd had to put Cassius on the back burner anyway. He just never thought it had impacted Cassius' views on Graham's ability as a Dominant. He had never meant to not take care of what was his. It had made him feel stuck in an impossible position and when they'd broken up Graham saw the merit in letting Cassius go to be able to look after something that he temporarily could not look after.
It had never been out of a lack of desire or want. The capability of Graham's to carry out the responsibility had been hindered. It was a subject of guilt on his part because he would always wonder if he could have tried harder to do more to make Cassius' health more of a priority while he was at school.
"Perhaps you're right," said Graham. He straightened his jacket. "Thank you for the advice."
Graham dipped his head once and set off in the opposite direction of the ballroom. He shot off a quick text to Liam, saying he'd been delayed and would meet up with him later. The best thing he could do for anyone right now was to be alone.
-END-
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hana-bean · 4 years ago
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Ayumi Hamasaki Picks:  A Song for ×× era (1998-1999)
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I’ll admit, I avoided A Song for ×× like COVID for way, way too long. Her vocals were hard to adapt to if you had only heard her I am... material and beyond. I personally found her voice high and squeaky; seemingly years and miles away from the Ayu I was introduced to at 14 years of age in 2002. There were a few tracks in their remix form I was able to stomach but otherwise, this album was an Ayumi I didn’t care to know. In fact, you’ll notice on most of these tracks I note that I prefer remixes over originals.
Within the last couple of years, I listened to this album in its entirety and ultimately fell in love. I realized now how important this debut is in considering and appreciating where Ayu started. Yes her sound is relatively high-pitched and un-Western, but it’s endearing AF. This album is able to span both sides of various spectrums: fun and sad, innocent and experienced, light-hearted and heartfelt. It exudes such a compelling, youthful perspective of love and heartbreak that I can’t help but empathize with it. Honestly, I don’t think I would feel the same emotions if this album was recorded with a more mature, older voice.
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Rating system:
☆☆☆☆ Love - play this at my funeral ☆☆☆ Like - skippable, but still good ☆☆ Meh - this does nothing for me ☆ Hate - I’ve only listened to this once just to confirm I hated it (⭒ you might see these little guys pop up from time to time, which represent a half star because I can’t make up my damned mind)
For a couple of tracks I give two different ratings because sometimes a remixed version is better than the original.
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A Song for ×× album tracks
Track 1: “Prologue” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like It’s a prelude. Not the best or worst, but a good one.
Track 2: “A Song for ××” Rating: ☆☆☆☆ Love Are you really even an Ayu fan if you don’t like this song? Kidding! But seriously, I think it’s safe to say that this is a very, very important song to Ayumi; if the number of its live performances aren’t an indicator, the drama from even watching one is enough to move you. One of my favorite live performances ever is from her A Museum tour—the a cappella beginning of the first verse and bridge lures you in and forces you to listen, for her only to then blow you away with the booming orchestral intensity of the chorus. GAH! Fuck me up, Ayu!
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Her “030213 Session #2 Take” re-recording of it on the A BALLADS compilation album provides a more organic, and arguably more powerful listening experience. Though she is older, you still can hear the strength of her despair. Her loneliness and strong façade hasn’t left, but has only changed and grew up with her.
The “Ferry Corsten Chilled Mix” from her first ayu trance album is also a total vibe. Great remix.
Track 3: “Hana” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like I’d file this one under: “the remixes are better than the original.” I mean the original is still a good listen, but the “dub’s trance remix” and acoustic orchestra version give it more oomph and dimension respectively (both are found on the first ayu-mi-x compilation). The lyrics reflect a fear of the relative unknown, or rather, a fear of growing, only to wilt or get stepped on. And I love how her considerably sad and pensive lyrics are backed with lively arrangements; it’s one of the many things I love about her music.
Track 4: “FRIEND” Rating: ☆☆☆☆ Love This 👏🏼 song 👏🏼 is 👏🏼 underrated 👏🏼 OMG do I love this song, it’s so fucking wholesome. This track was the one which truly solidified my love for ASf××. Like if this had a music video, I can totally see it popping up on the Disney channel back in the late ‘90s with Ayu dancing at a beach carnival in a pair of Keds or something. Though this song is not devoid of sadness, there is a bit of hope to it, and it’s just simply, super pure. It’s definitely a personal fave. 
Track 5: “FRIEND II” Rating: ☆☆ Meh It’s forgettable... I’m having a hard time trying to remember how it goes. I’m sure if I heard it, I’d be like “Ohhhh yeah!” but my mind is only broken picture links rn.
Okay I’ve listened to it and for some reason I get “Song 4 u” vibes like the very beginning guitar riff sounds like the “S4u” chorus, and even the build to the “FII” chorus is similar, I almost expect “S4u” sung over this. At least she copied herself LOL I mean it’s not a terrible song, but the first FRIEND is the better FRIEND.
Track 6: “poker face” Rating: ☆☆ Meh Yes it’s her first single ev4r so like, it’s all important and shit. But I feel there are better tracks on this album which easily eclipse the song. Though it fits in well with the album as a whole. Perhaps as a single compared to only “FRIEND” it holds its own but honestly, just it being Ayu’s debut song is really the only reason why I even remember it.
Track 7: “Wishing” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like I believe this is the first (and only) slow ballad that pops up on the album, and also believe this was a good foundation laid for the rest of the slow ballads of her career. This song showcases the youth and yearn of her voice very well. Does anyone know if she has even performed this song live?
Track 8: “YOU” Rating: ☆☆ Meh (original); ☆☆☆☆ Love (”Aggressive Mix”) I’ll be real: this original track is boring. Though the “Aggressive Mix” on the first ayu-ro mix album slaps for years and I don’t even really care for Eurobeat. The “FINE MIX” on the ayu-mi-x album is also pretty groovy with that—albeit slow—reggae vibe. I’d argue any remix of this song gives it way more personality and likability. 
Confession time: back when cosplay shows at cons were just like a mishmash of skits planned the day of and walk-ons, I thought about actually doing some kind of one-woman interpretive dance to the “Aggressive Mix.” It never happened so you’re welcome. 
Track 9: “As if...” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like This is just a good bop. I love the fake-out beginning of the slow piano and then: !!!TATOEBA!!!
Also I really appreciate the bass during the verses, like it goes ~BUM BUM~ every four counts and it’s just something nice and subtle which contributes positively to the song.
Track 10: “POWDER SNOW” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like (original); ☆☆☆☆ Love (acoustic orchestra) Three words: acoustic orchestra version. Are y’all seeing the pattern here? But seriously, this song supported by the simplicity of a haunting piano completely changes the mood of this song for the better. I will agree that the original arrangement has a great buildup, but it doesn’t compare to the emotion of the acoustic version.
Also, do any of you fellow old people remember Kazaa? When I was Ayu-curious, I was looking for random songs to download and the acoustic orchestra version of “POWDER SNOW” was one of the first songs I ever downloaded (maybe that plays into my bias). 
Honestly, now that I think about it, it might have been Morpheus at the time...
Track 11: “Trust” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like Also one of the first songs I ever heard from Ayu, so I like it for nostalgic reasons. Otherwise I would have relegated this to the ‘meh’ pile. 
This is one of the first Japanese songs I ever learned to sing, so I gotta give credit to my 14-year-old self.
Track 12: “Depend on you” Rating: ☆⭒ M— (I don’t hate it, but don’t not hate it enough to warrant the full ‘Meh’) This song is overrated :D The only good thing to come from this single is “Two of us.” Next! 
Track 13: SIGNAL Rating: ☆☆⭒ Meh-eh? Well...? It’s a good track, I respect it. Not as memorable as the other songs but it fits well in the album. A good filler song.
Track 14: “from your letter” Rating: ☆☆☆ Like The very beginning with the snaps and twinkly sounds are pretty cool. The song is enjoyable and calls for some shoulder moving at least. There was a remix on AHS a long time ago by sleeperspaceborn which was pretty damned good, and in fact made me like this song. 
Track 15: “For My Dear...” Rating: ☆☆☆⭒ Like Like  Here for the drama and the high notes, shoot it straight into my bloodstream and do not resuscitate. The Acoustic Version is also a great remix, I love how she sounds like she’s screaming over the piano and guitar.
Track 16: “Present” Rating: ☆☆ Meh Like “FRIEND II” I can’t remember this song...
Ah there it is! *proceeds to forget again*
Non-album tracks:
“Two of us” Rating: ☆☆☆☆ Love I absolutely l-o-v-e this song right down to the cheesy, slow dance prom-y feel to it. Hell, even the “touch of mahogany mix” is one of the best remixes; I dare you not to at least bob your head when you hear it. This song can only be found on the Depend on You single and it’s a damn shame it didn’t make it to the ASf×× album. However maybe this can be considered her first slow ballad... but again, solid foundation. The lyrics are once again so pain-ridden and sorrowful, but then when you hear it against that funky rhythm on the “touch of mahogany mix,” you can’t help but submit to the dissonance of snapping along while in tears.
Also Xelakad provided an ah-mazing remix of this song on AHS a while back too. It seriously turns this song into a spiritual experience.
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Average era rating: ☆☆☆ Like
If I could describe this album in two words, they would be: cohesive and precious. Yes her lyrics reflect hurt, rejection, and cynicism, but against the pop rock beats and her high voice, the album maintains an element of innocence. I believe it was a strong and consistent debut relative to her discography, as we are introduced to a young and weary Ayu who’s uncertain about the future, of love, of herself... *le sigh*
But let’s tie everything up in a nice pretty bow. For the list of Ayu’s creative bests, the common denominator is how much I really loved the drama and uniqueness of the tracks. Given that Ayu’s music style quickly evolved after this album, we conceivably don’t and won’t hear any songs like these ever again, and that’s why they’re just special.
The ‘Loves’ (only in order of track listing): A Song for ×× FRIEND POWDER SNOW (Acoustic Orchestra) YOU “Aggressive Mix” Two of us
Ayu’s creative bests: A Song for ×× POWDER SNOW (Acoustic Orchestra) For My Dear... Two of us
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Credits: -Album art from Wikipedia -Concert screenshots from eneabba.net/ayu
Disclaimer: this post is solely my personal view and opinion. I am a Westerner with no fluency in Japanese, and so my viewpoint is shaped from English translations provided by ahsforum.com and all the feels from years of daily listening.
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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago
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I can’t make builds so let’s talk about the latest UA
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I can’t make builds right now so let’s talk about Feats. I’m honestly a big fan of feats but I do think that ASIs are a little too strong by comparison in 5e. I feel like in order to compete with ASIs in 5e a Feat needs to do one of two things:
Offer new unique abilities that provide a large boost to your character’s capabilities so that taking them is worth sacrificing an ASI. (Feats like Crossbow Expert, Great Weapon Master, Warcaster, etc.)
(Half Feats) Provide a nice bonus to reward you for slower progression, or for having an uneven ability score to increase. (NOT ATHLETE, but feats like Linguist, Resilient, and the racial feats from Xanathar’s)
For the most part feats do accomplish these two concepts well but there are some feats that are laughably weak (Keen Mind, Weapon Master) while others are way too good. (Lucky.) I think that Feats should remain as options for players who want to build a specific build. They shouldn’t be the “best” choice but rather they should be inherently optional for those who want the power boost they provide.
With that in mind we got an Unearthed Arcana for Feats, and since I want to do more on this Tumblr than just make League of Legends builds I figured I’d throw my thoughts out into the wind.
Artificer Initiate
The main strength of this feat by far is that the spells are added to your spell list. This means that Artificer Initiate is a very easy way for just about any spellcaster to get access to Bless and Cure Wounds / Healing Word. These spells are fairly independent of their spellcasting modifier so getting both of them as a Wizard, Sorcerer, or even Warlock can be good in a pinch.
Other than that the ability to cast spells with tools is nice but ultimately pointless. It’s good if you’re playing an Artificer / Wizard multiclass but Artificers can already cast spells through their infusions. Ultimately this feature of the feat would work better if there were more Intelligence casters in 5e.
It’s a very fun feat for roleplay and has good utility, but I don’t think anyone’s going to be begging to get this feat.
4 / 5
Chef
How the mighty Gourmand and the “mighty” Song of Rest have fallen. Okay let me start with the obvious: the “treats” you can make are complete fucking trash. They’re laughably underwhelming and serve more as a ribbon ability than anything.
As for the Song of Rest-esque effect Song of Rest was already a grossly underwhelming ability for Bards. It’s really sad that it was so underwhelming they flat out gave it to everyone (at the cost of a feat) but I don’t think that harms the Bard class too much.
Just overall the feat really doesn’t live up to the fantasy of being a cook. Two underwhelming abilities for the price of an ASI? No thanks.
2 / 5
Crusher
“Hi I’m playing a Champion Fighter with a Warhammer!” The utility of this feat starts and ends with the critical hit modifier which I’m gonna be honest is insanely overpowered.
“But what about moving people? My Monk can now push people off cliffs!” Have you ever played a Minotaur? To be fair you probably haven’t. Pushing people around will hardly ever be useful. There’s perhaps niche utility in pushing someone away so you can run without provoking opportunity attacks but the Mobile feat does this so much better while also giving you additional movement.
Perhaps the only niche use of this feat is that it can increase your DEX, making it a good Half Feat for Monks that isn’t fucking Athlete.
1 / 5
Eldritch Adept
I really like this feat. It’s kinda become a running gag on this account that I really like sticking Warlock levels into things, and while it isn’t just for the invocations that’s definitely a big part of it. There’s a lot of really cool invocations that you can grab to make your character mildly magical without messing them up by multiclassing. To name all the invocations you can get as a non-Warlock:
Armor of Shadows is, has, and always will be the invocation you take more for character flavor than for practicality. Reddit has been theorycrafting how to break this feat with an Abjuration Wizard but I think that’s a bit too niche.
Beast Speech is really cute conceptually but will rarely be useful. I can guarantee that every single Druid and Ranger is going to hoover up Eldritch Adept just to talk to their animal companion though! (This would’ve been a nice feat to put in my Kindred build if it had existed at the time.)
Beguiling Influence... take Skilled instead. Maybe some niche use for the Half-Elf Rogue who wants proficiency in literally every skill in the game.
Devil’s Sight! This is the main Invocation people are going to be looking for! Magical Darkness is incredibly hard to use effectively and this invocation is pretty much the only way to make it not completely useless?
Eldritch Sight: at-will Detect Magic is never a bad thing but it always suffered from opportunity cost. This makes it available for Bards.
Eyes of the Rune Keeper: just get the Comprehend Languages spell tbh. It’s a ritual after all.
Fiendish Vigor is alright. Decent on an Eldritch Knight as a backup Second Wind.
Gaze of Two Minds is far, FAR too situational to be useful.
Mask of Many Faces is a god-tier invocation for Arcane Tricksters. It ticks me off that you can’t take this feat as a non-caster for a regular Rogue to gain access to this.
Misty Visions depends on what your DM lets you get away with using Minor Illusion for.
Thief of Five Fates: just get Bane from another source.
It kinda bumbs me out that this feat is restricted to just magic users, and I feel like that part of the spell could be removed. Also kinda bumbs me out that you can’t blow two feats to get Agonizing Eldritch Blast (Magic Initiate [Warlock] + Eldritch Adept) but I sort of understand why that’s a thing. But invocations are the perfect example of something worth losing an ASI for.
5 / 5
Fey Touched
Here’s the first feat that I think is a little too good. Let’s get the elephant out of the room first: Fey Teleportation. The differences between the two feats are as follows:
Misty Step from Fey Teleportation comes back on a short rest.
Fey Teleportation is locked by race.
Fey Touched gives you two spells.
Fey Touched lets you add the spells to your spell list.
Oh and let’s talk about some of the spells that are in the Enchantment / Divination school: Bless, Command, Detect Magic, Dissonant Whispers, Heroism, Hex, Hunter's Mark, Identify, and Sleep. (Just to name the notable choices.)
This feat should’ve been a full feat (no ASI.) Adding both Misty Step and Hex to your spell list as a Cleric or Paladin is more than enough to make this feat OP. If Artificer Initiate is a full feat than this should be too.
5 / 5 - OP award for being OP
Fighting Initiate
This should be a half feat. Actually: this should be merged with Weapon Master. I personally already Homebrew the Weapon Master Feat to do this along with the effects of Weapon Master (+3 weapons, +STR or DEX.)
If this was done as an eratta to Weapon Master (instead of its own feat) the feat could be taken by Wizards who want a way to defend themselves, Rogues who want more options Scimitars cough while also honing their own skills, or Barbarians who just finally want a fighting style. I’m glad something like this is finally being considered but please just buff Weapon Master instead.
4 / 5
Gunner
Crossbow expert for guns. A lot of people interpret this as a silent endorsement of guns in D&D or a hint at a potential official gunslinger (sub)class but really I just think Jeremy Crawford got sick of people asking him “does Crossbow Expert work with guns?” on Twitter.
gun / 5
Metamagic Adept
IE the feat that’s making Reddit throw a hissy fit. Does this suddenly make the Sorcerer class useless? Well excluding the fact that Sorcerers get way more sorcery points, metamagic options, and the ability to turn their spell slots into Sorcery points (and vice-versa)? Put bluntly your options are:
Make (Charisma Mod) creatures succeed their saving throw for your spell. (Rarely going to be used unless you’re already a Charisma caster.)
Double the range of your spell. (Maybe useful for a Cleric to extend the range of Cure Wounds idk.)
Reroll (Charisma Mod) damage die. (Kinda useful for spells that roll few dice.)
Double the duration of your spell. (Perhaps some niche use with certain spells.)
Can’t use Heightened Spell
Can cast one spell / cantrip as a Bonus Action. (One use of a bonus action spell isn’t really worth a whole feat.)
Cast 2 spells without verbal or somatic components. (Can’t be counterspelled!)
Make a spell of first or second level hit two targets. (Actually has some niche use for certain spells. Particularly nice to get extra value out of healing spells.)
(UA)
Change the damage type of a spell. (Maybe useful for Tempest Clerics? But barely.)
Ignore cover. (Very rarely useful.)
Reroll a spell attack once. (Kinda meh; might be useful if you have a very big attack roll spell but you probably won’t.)
I think the main thing Reddit is upset about is two uses of Subtle Spell for a Wizard but... if your player took anti-counter spell insurance instead of an ASI let them have it? Chances are you’re way too counter spell-obsessed if the Wizard casting a good spell once and awhile ruins your game.
As for the feat itself? The two that rely on your Charisma mod are hard to use for that exact reason. Beyond that there are some interesting ones beyond “anti-counter spell insurance” but I feel like two Sorcery points to use on metamagics isn’t enough. Probably a testament to how underwhelming the Sorcerer class is as a whole.
3 / 5
Piercer
It’s Savage Attacker and Brutal Critical combined in one half feat. I guess if you’re using Piercing weapons but I can’t shake the feeling that Savage Attacker would be the better option.
One interesting thing to note is that essentially all ranged weapons do piercing damage, and this feat doesn’t have a melee limitation like Savage Attacker. This could be a good feat for a bow fighter to do more reliable damage.
The irony though is that even though this is essentially just Savage Attacker I’m forced to say it’s overpowered since it provides more utility than Savage Attacker (assuming you don’t use weapons that don’t do piercing damage) as a half feat. This isn’t really a testament to this feat being overpowered, but rather that Savage Attacker should honestly probably be a half feat as well.
2 / 5
Poisoner
This is how poisons should work! It’s perfect for someone who wants it, and it looks well-balanced overall. The gold cost, action economy, and CON save requirements makes this feat fair for the DM.
It’s interesting that this feat allows you to ignore resistance to poison but not immunity. Poison was one of the elements Elemental Adept couldn’t affect which was part of the reason that Green Draconic Sorcerer was so bad (among the zillion and one other problems with Poison damage.) Overall this feat is really awesome but it’s held back by poison damage as a whole in 5e. Basically if this was for any other damage type than poison it would be great (which makes me wonder what this feat would be like with flaming poison.)
4 / 5
Practiced Expert
This is basically a slightly worse version of the Prodigy feat but it’s a half-feat and it’s for all races instead of just for humans and half-races... honestly  Prodigy is such a shit feat that I see no issue with this. I already let non-humans take Prodigy in my campaigns. My only real complaint is that this feat proves that Prodigy (as well as the Skilled feat) should probably be half feats.
4 / 5
Shadow Touched
Darkness is very hard to use without abilities to see through it (Devil’s Sight.) But other than that what can you get? Disguise Self? Just take Eldritch Adept instead for unlimited Disguise Self. There are very few low-level Illusion / Necromancy spells when compared to Divination / Enchantment. There are some midway decent ones (Inflict Wounds) but is it really worth it to lose an ASI for Darkness and Inflict Wounds? Put bluntly: no. Maybe some niche use for Darkness spam Warlocks to get an extra “spell slot” but it’s still underwhelming.
2 / 5
Shield Training
It’s nice to be able to grab a shield as a caster who likely has their off-hand open anyways. It’s also nice for a fighter to be able to “chance stances” and drop their AC in exchange for harder hits. The only part that bugs me about this feat is that the fantasy of an arcane caster using a shield as a focus is weird to me. I feel like there should at least be some sort of gold cost to convert a shield into a “not-quite Ruby of the War Mage” that can be used as an Arcane Focus.
3 / 5
Slasher
This feel like the best of the damage feats since it actually lets you do some unique stuff. Being able to slow enemies (without fucking Sentinel) lets melee fighters keep their allies safe, and giving allies disadvantage to hit you allows you to be a lot sturdier.
The sad truth is that this is probably the most underwhelming of the damage feats though. It’s very hard to use this feat as anything other than a Swashbuckler Rogue, and in order to get Slashing damage as a Rogue (Scimitar) you’d need to blow another feat or do some multiclassing. Slows in melee range are largely useless, and the crit is unreliable. I really want this feat to be better.
4 / 5
Tandem Tactician
Here’s the one feat I honestly have a big problem with. I don’t think being able to Help as a Bonus Action makes this feat OP. (It’s nice for anyone to be able to gain access to a useful Bonus Action without multiclassing.) But the problem lies in the fact that this feat lets you affect two people with the Help action. This makes the ability to give two melee allies (such as your Rogue) Advantage even more broken. People can already testify to how strong Mastermind Rogue is for its action economy increase.
And the best part? This feat still fails at giving Bonus Action Economy to “everyone” since backline characters can’t use the 10 foot range Help. I’d much rather this feat be given 30 feet, and Mastermind Rogue given an eratta to have its ability reach 60 feet or something idk.
1 / 5 - OP and dumb award for being OP and dumb
Tracker
“LOL RANGER IS OFFICIALLY USELESS NOW XDDDD” Jokes aside Hunter’s Mark and tracking abilities is good value for a half feat. Magic Initiate (Warlock) or Fey Touched are still probably better than this feat, but if you need the Survival skill then this is helpful.
4 / 5
FINAL RATINGS
Favorite Feat: Eldritch Adept
Least Favorite Feat: Crusher
Most OP Feat: Tandem Tactician
Weakest Feat: Shadow Touched / Chef
Overall this Unearthed Arcana excites me because I’ve always liked Feats and thought that they were cool. In my opinion it’s much more interesting to create a character with unique abilities over one that’s just traditionally strong. A lot of these feats need revision but I hope that practically all of these get published so we can make some truly unique characters with them.
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electric-sugar-darling · 5 years ago
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“Other”
For as long as I've known, I've been "other."
I am "other" in the eyes of a dominantly white American census. They see my brown skin (though sometimes, they claim to not "see color.") They see my smaller, almond-shaped eyes. They hear my speaking voice that, while occasionally quiet and stuttering, but firm when it comes to things I am passionate about, seems to blend with the American standard. Not a "foreign" accent anywhere within earshot. Though when I would go back to visit the Philippines in the past, I'd occasionally get poked at for sounding like an "American boy." But hearing how I speak now, it is assumed the colonization has worked, and that I am relatable from an American perspective. Yet when I speak of the cultural dissonance and assimilation I have faced in this country as a first generation Filipino immigrant growing up stateside, I'm told I just need to "work harder" and "be more confident," but assured that I am "beautiful" regardless. Honey, you don't know the half of how hard I've "worked," and what exactly I've "worked" on, to make my supposed "confidence" what it is today, to bring it to an acceptable level for me to play whatever functional role I am meant to play in this modern American society. But thanks for calling me beautiful, I guess. I am "other" when it comes to Filipino ethnicity and culture, because even though I am Filipino, I still struggle to fully connect with it, beyond reading up on histories, cultural norms, and current events of my home country as an adult, but never got to fully absorb and internalize as a child because I moved to the States when I was four years old. As such, I was too busy in my childhood attempting to fit into the white American standard to which schools are subconsciously defaulted in this country, under the guise of the United States being a "melting pot." The concept of a melting pot is so colorful, and attractive, and appealing, and almost comforting to a little brown child born in one country, but brought to an entirely new country, before education and social interactions could really even begin for that child ("that child" is Me, if I've lost you.) But the problem with the idea of a melting pot is that when things melt down, the individuality of the different flavors lose themselves when they all attempt to come together. And while visually, everything seems to have combined into one, it is still incongruous. Certain flavors overpower others or cancel them out completely, especially when there's too much of one, and only a pinch of "other." The idea of melting implies that everything has amalgamated into one, to make it easier to digest for the mass palate, specifically the status quo. The cost is that celebrating genuine individuality and uniqueness is (literally) lost in the mix, under the guise of "unity." But thanks for tagging me in your post about lumpia, I guess. I am "other" as a gay man, in a sea of image-obsessed, chiseled bodies, meant primarily for the white porn star standard of 'beach bod 5'9".' There's no room for overweight. There's no room for too tall. No room for stretch marks. No room for extra skin left over from weight loss, even though I was under the baseless assurance that losing weight would equal me being supposedly more "desirable." No room for being "too masculine looking" for guys that prefer their bottoms to be more feminine, twinky, and submissive. No room for not being masculine ENOUGH, as is the general dominant desirability factor in the endless swipes of hook-up app profiles, over which my thumb has all but burned itself off. Masc4MaskedToxicMasculinity, bro. No room for not being confident in yourself, even though you were picked apart for all those things on dating websites, until my outward physical appearance started to try and fit into these "desirable" niches and archetypes. There's plenty of room for Asians, apparently. Until they find out I (literally) don't fit in their fetishistic image of small, meek, petite Asian. I also get the occasional gem of "Man, I'm usually not into Asians, but..." or "Man, you're exotic looking." Big fucking yikes, bro. Yes, I am probably looking for gratification in all the wrong places. But even though I am gradually becoming more accepting of the parts of me that I previously hated, tried to hide, or distance myself from because I was made to believe they were ugly, the past emotional pangs still scratch at me, and I find myself going back to square one when I default to re-opening that dating app when I get that carnal urge, to try and feel better about myself. But thanks for sending me a wink, I guess. I am "other" in a society dominated by heteronormative romantic prospects. Soulmates, getting married, having kids, having one true love, love at first sight, true love's kiss. From a very young age, all of this is pushed onto us as something we had to strive for. An ultimate goal that we are meant to pursue, otherwise we are viewed as crazy, as spinsters, as eccentric and lonely old crones, as if any of these things were the most horrible things in the world to be viewed as. As a child, I had little playground crushes here and there. And as I got a little older, when I was faced with the possibility (turned reality) of being gay, I had crushes on boys, too. But I also had to push that away from my mind, because gay was that taboo thing no one ever talked about, or else it would be either vilified or mocked. But all these crushes were just fluffy, meaningless, outward attractions. I never felt any sort of romantic attraction. And as I got older, the idea of romance was a concept that never clicked with me. I've had exactly two boyfriends in the past, which, at the time, I considered "love." But was it really? Or was it because I was in the standardized view of a two-person mutual relationship with this person, that I instantly equated it as "love." I've never been able to fully make the connection of what exactly "romance" is. I take a very long time to open up to people. But when I do trust somebody enough, I tell them everything about me, the secrets, the ins, the outs, the whispers and screams of my heart, my dreams, my hopes, my despairs. But is that romance? Maybe it can be, but it wasn't for me. Because my closest friends and family are also people I've told all those private things to. Is it love? Sure. A platonic love. But I don't equate it to being romantically attracted to my friends or family. Is romance hand-holding and kissing? I've gone on dates and "seen" guys in the past, where we've kissed and held hands, even had sex. But did I consider any of it romance? Not in the slightest. Is romance sweet, thoughtful gestures? I do my best to show my friends and family I care with gestures whenever I am able, or sometimes, simply listening or offering words. But again, does that mean I am romantically attracted or linked to them? No. And so for a while, I thought I was some sociopath that simply was not capable of romantic love. Until I read about the spectrum of aromanticism. People who feel intense platonic love, and value these many important platonic relationships in their lives equally, but have never related to this idea of finding one specific fulfilling "love" above all others (the romantic kind) as something different than the other platonic relationships they have in their lives. I've never subscribed to the notion of ONE soulmate, because anybody that has made a profound impact in my life with whom I've shared a meaningful and long-lasting connection, and who fully understand me and accept me as I do them, I consider them a soulmate. I have many I consider "soulmates." And honestly, I'm tired of being told I "just haven't found the right one yet," when I have plenty of the "right ones" in my life right now. But thanks for suggesting that rom-com to me, I guess. I have lived my entire life in constant dissonance (which might explain why I like abstract 20th century composers.) Not necessarily because I WANTED to live in dissonance, but simply because any time I was simply trying to BE, there was pushback, or criticism, or questioning, which in turn, made me push back, criticize, and question myself. I have lived my life as perpetually "other," but for a time, believed it was a terrible thing to be anything "other" than what everybody else was doing or being. But I have lived through enough dissonance to realize that living against the grain is essentially what has gotten me this far in life. And although it was a difficult and uneven road to self-acceptance (and I still occasionally struggle with lingering pangs of insecurity to this day), this road is mine and mine alone. And without me on it, there would be no other.
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larenoz · 5 years ago
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Roswell New Mexico - Live Rewatch - Ep 1 - Pilot
So I don’t really have much in the way of original content on my blog. So I decided it might be fun to post the live blog I’ve been doing on discord of the rewatch our server is doing for Roswell, New Mexico over the hiatus period. 
I’ve only posted my comments, so there might be a couple of bits that look out of place. These are my responses to other people’s comments. I’m up to episode 6, so I will post the backlog and then do one a week until the re-watch is complete.
Be warned, there is swearing. 
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Sorry, cat decided it wanted a cuddle
I love the glass effect, it's so cool
You may not plan to see the small people again, Liz but we know it's gonna happen!!
Not gonna lie, I love poltics in my TV
You quote that verdict to him, Liz!!
That vent tells us so much about Liz in such a short period of time.
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You're finally back says Max.Because he's been waiting for that to happen the whole time.
Excuse me Sheriff, with that good girl comment. Rude!
Arturo, playing along with Liz's mpreg story.
Fuck, I just realised - mpreg is canon!?!
Rosa!!
I want antenna headband
Cream on a milkshake is wrong.
So many people in this show have pretty eyes!!
Nooo.
Damn that's alot of lights to replace
I love that damn bullet hole in Liz's dress. It was the first indication they weren't gonna make everyone dumb as a bag of rocks and drag the storyline out FOR EVER.
Hoverboarding. Iz!!
Hey there Kyle!
Annnd here it comes, I'm in love.
That smug fucking grin. The song.
That look when he's trying to get the keys. That look would make you do just about anything.
That Michael monologue. It just gets better everytime I watch it.
Without a doubt, top 3 best character intros ever.
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And we're only 15 mins in! I need to make less comments
I didn't think anyone was reading!! :wink:
"Untie some loose ends" - you go Iz
Oh Max you fucker. Telling Michael he wouldn't do anything for anyone else. Excuse fucking you.
Ok, blasting Max across the room is kinda hot. But then his guilty face! :sob:
And god, that little shoulder touch on Iz one the way out.
Another example of non-verbal storytelling. In one scene we get the fractured relationship between Max and Michael, we get that Iz and Michael are close and that both boys defer/protect Iz. So much with so little. It also sets up the physicality of the broken relationship between Max and Michael.
Others have commented on how Max is physically intimidating with people, and literally pushes Michael around, but to be fair, Michael is pretty much the same with Max (but never really with anyone else that we see on screen though we hear about it.
And then in a few lines, Iz gives us a lifetime of fears and concerns - dissection, prison, lying and hiding to loved ones - the rest of the season in seconds of dialogue
Ah, the ONLY thing that gives me Max feels is how dismissive both Iz and Michael are of Max's feelings about Liz. Especially annoying consider Michael should really fucking know better.
Yeah, because he's been pining for Alex just as long.
Unrequited love hurts just as much. Kiss or no kiss.
That's my take anyway.
Here it comes...
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Typing may get bad. Cat is sitting on chest and I can't see keyboard.
Seriously, there is nothing overtly relationshippy or sexual, no pointed stares, but just how soft Michael is, even as he's making the real Manes man comment, you just know these two have a past, and that past was probably intimate.
The casual sex comment though, oh yeah they've fucked. That is such a fuck you comment to an ex.
And again with massive story in few words - Alex knocking his leg. "3/4 of one"
That run and tell Daddy line. The nastiest thing Michael says in the entire season, although we don't know that yet. And it strikes such a dissonant tone, even though we don't know why. I'm gonna put it down to things changing so much between shooting the pilot and the rest of the season.
Just my humble opinion but the shirt changing scene could've lasted longer. Just sayin'
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Maths, lots and lots of maths
I love the glass SFX
Rosa!! "All our lives that kids been making eyes at you"
Oh Liz, such a good sister. Fixing up the memorial. And the braclets
Ah, sneaky Liz appears
Oh yeah can he keep a secret
Liz begging Max to tell her she isn't loosing her mind. Fuuuck.
Not cool Michael. Great control, but not cool.
Racist Hank, you douche bag
And Maria introduced as taking no shit from ANYONE.
Iz and her slideshow. I love that line.
Why is Iz so vehement that Michael would be so upset about telling Liz?
Max loosing it and Iz looking quite surprised. Forshadowing
yes, Iz no like about it. He is in love with her.
Ah Iz, Iz, Iz. "Too many secrets, things she can't ever know" you don't know the half of it.
Fall in love with someone else.  - If I could have, I would have. Fuck, Max, I feel you on that one.
Jesus, how do all these guys make dark flannel look so hot?
Dance it out. i don't dance in this town anymore, Kyle...
Hot take, I know everyone is mad for Trevino's cheekbones, but honestly, they aren't my thing. But his eyes, gods, his eyes. He has the best eyes on the show. God that make me sound like a freak.
"whatever" with that tiny, tiny almost invisible smirk. Yeah, you think you're all that
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He manages that whole distraction use me, use me speech without coming off as a total wanker. And that is pretty amazing.
The station promo/ad on my cable channel has a bit for Roswell - tag line: "Beam me up hotties." Too right.
Scientist Liz!!
Needs answers now.
Fuck you Jesse Manes
I hate you already.
No Kyle, don't do it. But thank fuck he doesn't just start talking,
Yeah, nah Max. That's not how it works. It's not ok if people are nice to you but shitty to everyone else.
Why should Michael like the world? it's been pretty shitty to him!?!
Liz with the serial killer joke, just with the wrong person!!
The pods are sorta cool.
They could've been so chessy.
Now we know why the three of them are so close. And just about the only real bit of exposition on the show.
But will you Liz? Will you keep the promise?
Secret Bunker No 1
"This matters to you, so I'm here". :heart:
Do what Michael, what could you possibly mean?
"Just like you did 10 yrs ago".......
What are you max? Just a guy from Roswell
In Max's favour, when he says he stayed in Roswell, and didn't follow Liz because of Iz and Michael, he doesn't sound resentful, which is sort of what you'd expect here. I like that.And Max going to the reunion for Iz. And Liz tagging along even though she's expecting a bad reception.
"i don't save people all the time. I never save people" But you saved Liz, And why is that Max?
OT re Trevino's eyes. It was that gif set of him laying on his stomach  on his bed (?) with his doggo, looking up to the camera. That angle, OMG, his eyes....
And no verbal confirmation, just Liz realising exactly what Max said - that even though he's in a job where he'd be in contact with sick/dying people alot, he's never saved anyone before. Omph
Of course you remember the very first time you met, Max.
Little kid Max is sooo cute.
Ah you big sap, Max.
No kissing. An "Echo" of what he feels for Liz.
Nice choice of words there writers.
We see what you did there.
So far it's taken me 2 hrs to watch 50 mins
Fuck you again Jesse Manes
Swoon Kyle's eyes.
And we have Kyle's first exposure to the fact that the govt knows about aliens and did medical type stuff to them.  Does this hover in the back of his mind from now on? is this the reason for the quick reaction to his fathers actions at Caufield.?
No he's fucking not cooking meth. Seriously, Alex, what the fuck?
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Sorry Alex, not cool, not cool AT all.
I want to see the outakes of Tyler saying phenyl-2-propanone
Because I'm a bitch like that
Yeah, that so serious up close and personal for straight people....
And there is Alex's nastiest line - You're wasting your life. Gods, that is such a shit thing to say to Michael.
And re outtakes because Tyler would laugh and do that thing where he covers his mouth as he trys to stop himself giggling. That's soooo cute.
But anyway, back to the show...
Oh, he wants to hold something, Michael but it's not your hand...
Macho cowboy swagger.
Did it get old for you.
No it did not get fucking old for him. At all.
Michael walking away with arm around girl. Noting for those who say they didn't realise Michael was bi after watching the pilot. How?
How could you miss it?
You go Maria - dying alone of syphillis to bitch
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Maybe Liz does still dance in Roswell!! She just needs a good reason.
And that song begins.
"You can't hide from who you are". Alex's prothesis as he looks at himeself skating in the slide show. Fucking killing us.
And it only gets worse-
I don't thnk that's an unpopular opinon at all. That's totally where I see his headspace. But that does result in him saying some nasty shit to Michael. And it's because we know it's not true that it hurts so much.
Fair warning it may take me half an hour to get through the next 2 mins of show!!
Long shot - "Nostalgia's a bitch"
Fuck, the way Michael looks at Alex as he's leaning against the door. People have started wars to have someone look at them like that. That's Greek epic shit right there.
Then cut shot to Max and Iz looking at Liz.
Alex expecting Michael to be gone from Roswell.
"Is that what you want" as Michael takes a step closer. Not "wanted", but "want".
"What I want doesn't matter" as they both slowly sway towards each other. Bullshit, Alex. What you want is ALL that matters. Fuck everything else.
Michael's eyes flicking up to Alex's face....
And Michael launches himself at Alex like a dying man.
God, how do you even describe that kiss?? Everything about it is just.......
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But it's more than just the fire. Its the tenderness of Michael gently craddling Alexs' head even though the kiss is passionate and desperate.
Battery break
And then, back to reality - Iz knows that Max has told Liz.
And then Jess Fucking Manes (I fututus et mori in ignie cunne) (don't look that up it's very bad swearing) talking about being monsters who despise compassion and love. Projecting much.
"Thrive on our tragedy". Die MF Die
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Despise Love over a visual of Michael and Alex. Die some more you MF
But you haven't told Liz everything have you Max. There's still some stuff you're hiding.
"When the truth hunts you down"
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Yeah, that truth is going to hunt you down and fuck you up Max
My house just wobbled.
No, there isn't a secret that is safe.
And people will be caught in the crossfire - have already.
"What's lost will be found, when the truth hunts you down."
Well doesn't that one line sum up a ton of shit that goes down in the rest of the season.
And fin
3 hrs
That was not what I planned.
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